36. Out of the Fire

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"Why do you assume you're the smartest in the room? Soon that attitude might be your doom" ~ Non-Stop, the Original Broadway Cast of Hamilton


"No, no...I don't need the hospital wing...I need my brother...and my potion -- I --"

I tremble as Professor Marchbanks leads me out of the Great Hall, my head pounding from the impact. She's looking at me with immense concern, her hands gripping my shoulders as if she expects me to fall over. 

"I'm fine -- fine, professor," I say, sounding almost frantic. "I'm just stressed -- Madam Pomfrey will tell you -- my condition -- "

"Pressure of examinations," says Professor Tofty, who I did not realise was so close until this moment. Beside him is a very pale Harry, whose eyes widen as he sees me. I know the instant I see him that he's seen the same I have. "It happens," he tells us reassuringly, "it happens! Now, a cooling drink of water, and perhaps you will both be ready to return to the Great Hall? The examination is nearly over, but you may be able to round off your last answers nicely?"

"Yes," Harry says wildly, and I shoot him a look. "I mean...no...I've done--done as much as I can, I think..."

"Me too," I say shakily. 

"Very well, very well," says the old wizard. "I shall go and collect your examination papers and I suggest that you both go and have a nice lie-down."

"Will do," I say, nodding vigorously as I still try to catch my breath. "T-Thank you."

The second that their heels disappear over the threshold into the Great Hall, Harry grabs my hand and begins running up the marble staircase, hurtled along the corridors so fast the portraits we pass mutter reproaches, up more flights of stairs, and finally into the double doors of the hospital wing like a hurricane, causing Madam Pomfrey--who had been spooning some bright blue liquid into Montague's open mouth--to shriek in alarm.  

"Potters, what do you think you're doing?" 

"We need to see Professor McGonagall," Harry gasps. "Now...it's urgent!"

 "She's not here, Potters," says Madam Pomfrey sadly. "She was transferred to St. Mungo's this morning. Four Stunning Spells straight to the chest at her age? It's a wonder they didn't kill her."

"She's ... gone?" I ask breathlessly, shocked. 

The bell rings just outside the dormitory and I hear the usual distant rumbling of students starting to flood out into the corridors above and below us. We remain quite still, looking at Madam Pomfrey. Terror is rising inside me. 

There is nobody left to tell. Dumbledore has gone, Hagrid has gone, but I always expected Professor McGonagall to always be here, irascible and inflexible, perhaps, but always dependable.

"I don't wonder you're shocked, Potters," says Madam Pomfrey, with a kind of fierce approval in her face. "As if one of them could have Stunned Minerva McGonagall face-on by daylight! Cowardice, that's what it was ... despicable cowardice ... if I wasn't worried what would happen to you students without me, I'd resign in protest."

"Yes," says Harry blankly.


"Miss Potter," she adds tentatively. "Are you all right? Have you run out of your potions?"

"No--no," I say quickly, surely not convincing her. "Thank you, sorry for bothering you."


We wheeled around and stride blindly from the hospital wing into the teeming corridor where we stood, buffeted by the crowd, panic expanding inside me like poison gas so that my head swims and I cannot think what to do...I need my potion, but there's no time to retrieve it from my dormitory. 

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