Junoesque ✿George Weasley✿

101.

Blair's black eyes fluttered open. She had expected to see George's face looming over her with tears down his face and the morphing of his expression into a goofy grin. But she only saw the ceiling of the Great Hall without its usual enchantment of a night sky. It was dark besides the torches that were mounted on the walls and it was eerily silent. Gathering her strength, she forced her torso to lift her upper half up from the stretcher. A groan left her throat from the wearing feeling that coated her limbs and head. It was as if she had woken up from a restless sleep where her mind refused to plummet into a its deep subconscious. She was tired but most of all, she was confused.

She didn't remember anything that had happened during her unusual sleep. She remembered George carrying her into the Great Hall before everything went dark. He hadn't been able to step into the hall before she passed out in his arms but everything was fuzzy from there on. Had she simply passed out from blood loss and exhaustion? Or had there been more to it?

Another groan brought her out of her wondering and she turned to her left, seeing Fred lying beside her with his eyes cracking open from his own sleep. She then realised that there were bodies everywhere. The entire hall had become a morgue with stretchers sitting under every poor soul that suffered the unfortunate fate of death. Blair felt the material under her own backside and realised that she too was on a stretcher. So was Fred. Had they both been pronounced dead? All these people in the hall were motionless, meaning that all of the dead had been gathered into this one room. But why? Had they won the battle against Voldemort? Or had everyone been killed?

While Fred sat up next to her, she scanned the room for people she knew. She saw Remus and Tonks together, which was awful to see. But to some relief, she couldn't see George, Molly, or anyone she knew had come to the battle. But that didn't mean that the possibility of them being dead was impossible.

"Ugh my head," Fred groaned and Blair turned to him once more. He held the side of his head in his hand and pulled it back to see flakes of dried blood on his fingers. "What the hell?"

This made Blair look to where the pain had been before she passed out. There was large blood splatter stretching across her torso, but there was no longer any pain. She pulled back the ripped material of her jumper and shirt, only to see unscathed skin. All of the injuries she had previously acquired had simply vanished with only the lost blood that stained her clothes and skin. Everything had been healed.

"Blair? What are you doing on a stretcher?" Fred asked, looking at her with squinting eyes.

"I-I think we died, Fred," she said vaguely. It was the only explanation. Why else were they lying on stretchers with the rest of the dead?

"Pfft, yeah right," he sniggered before catching sight of the many others who lay in similar positions around the room. "Woah..."

Blair then felt the weight of her pockets against her thighs. She reached into them and pulled out the bottles of beige that she had carried throughout the night. It then all clicked into place. She remembered giving the potion to Lavender Brown and the boy who had been killed in the courtyard next to his friend. She remembered Lavender waking up and being confused as to why Blair was so ecstatic to see her awake. But the girl didn't remember anything about being dead for at least a few minutes. The amnesia had made her completely oblivious. It was the only explanation as to why she and Fred now lay on stretchers with countless others who were motionless.

"So it worked? We were brought back?" Fred stared down at the bottles in her hands and Blair had a faint memory of white. A completely white world where she felt clean and at peace. But then the memory faded and she couldn't remember it any longer. But its effect lasted.

She stood to her feet while swaying for a moment, regained her balance and turned to the person on the stretcher next to her. She didn't recognise them as they wore no Hogwarts uniform and had to be at least over the age of thirty. Regardless of her unfamiliarity, she uncorked one of the bottles in her hand and dropped the smallest amount of the potion past their lips. The coldness of their skin and the vacant sheen in their eyes didn't change, but she knew that would soon change.