𝐎, 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃 ⎥ "He wants a fight with
a God? I'll give him one."
﹙ from stardust we came, to stardust we return ﹚
Prisoner of Azkaban - Deathly Hollows
...
HARRY SAT HIMSELF up. His head was pounding violently in his skull, and his back felt like it was shattered into a million pieces. Groaning, he massaged his temple and gazed around, trying to get a sense of familiarity. He saw a girl lying on her back only a foot away from him, eyes closed and her face scrunched up.
Fear struck his heart like lightning as his eyes focused.
He remembered falling through the sky before he faded out of consciousness. Surely Elara didn't take the fall. . . .? His senses finally came flooding back to him as he snapped out of his reverie.
Stumbling, he reached over to Elara, groping around for her wrist, praying to the Stars she had a pulse. His hand shook as he placed to fingers on the veins on her wrist. Maybe it was because of the pure desperation, or the looming anger he would feel if he had actually let her sacrifice herself, but he felt like his heart had stopped.
She was alive.
Sighing in relief, Harry sat back. He pulled Elara out of the shallow water and placed her head face up in his lap. He was angry she was so reckless, so willing to sacrifice herself on a whim to spare him injury.
A rustling in the tall grass moved Harry to draw out his wand and point it in the direction of the noise. A figure emerged, but it was too dark to see if it was friend or foe.
"Woah, Harry," came the scottish accent of Oliver Wood.
"Sorry," said Harry sheepishly, stuffing his wand back in his pocket.
