The Graveyard - 8

The snake in his mind flicked his eyes methodically on his location, intently studying the door and the surrounding room. Harry felt cold, calculating recognition dawn as a sickening sense of accomplishment filled his senses.

With cold dispassion, he turned his slit-like eyes onto Ron, Hermione and Ginny's panicked faces. It was the terror in his friends' expressions, added to the feeling of the evil in his soul thrilling at their presence, that finally enabled Harry to push the Darkness from his mind. He felt it swirl in a whirlpool, receding slowly as if sliding down a drain.

The pain diminished slowly until only a dull headache remained, leaving Harry gasping on the floor. The palms of his hands were scraped and bleeding from trying to stop his fall, and his ankle felt strained beneath him.

"Harry," Ron said, shaking him slightly. "Wake up, Harry. Can you hear me?"

Harry groaned, his body aching. He wanted to drift into the sleep that beckoned, but Ron just wouldn't let him. Dark shadows encroached upon the edge of his vision, threatening to overtake him completely.

"Harry, wake up," Hermione said slapping his face.

Groaning again, he pulled his face away and tried to open his eyes. They didn't want to cooperate, and it took him several moments.

Blinking, he realized he was lying on the floor propped against Ron's chest as his friend cradled him tightly. As if realizing Harry's new awareness, Ron released his grip, although he continued to support Harry's weight.

"You were thrashing like mad. I thought you were having a seizure," Ron said, sounding panicked.

"What happened, Harry?" Ginny asked, her face pale and tear-stained.

Harry furrowed his brow, confused. Suddenly, memory crashed over him like a tidal wave. "We have to get out of here," he cried, attempting to rise. He would have fallen again if Ron hadn't caught him.

"Easy, mate. We're going. Just catch your breath," Ron said.

"No! You don't understand. He knows we're here. Voldemort!" Harry gasped, scrambling for the door again. He had to get them out of here. He couldn't lose anyone else.

Finally catching on to his urgency, Hermione jumped to her feet, pulling Ginny up beside her.

"Let's go," she said, yanking open the door.

Ron pulled Harry to his feet and wrapped his arm around him.

"Hurry," Harry moaned.

When they were out on the porch, and Harry could see the graveyard at the bottom of the hill, the popping sounds of Apparation began to fill the air.

Both girls stood on the porch, their wands at the ready.

"Go! What are you waiting for?" he shouted.

He tried to clear his mind, to concentrate on the hills surrounding the gates at Hogwarts just outside of Hogsmeade, but he couldn't get his mind to focus. A swirling mass of gray clouded his vision, darkening the sky.

He felt his knees give out, and his last thought before losing conscious was the fact that he really would die in that God-forsaken graveyard after all.

**~~**~~**

The late afternoon sun shone weakly on the Scottish hills surrounding Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. February's chill permeated the village of Hogsmeade, and icicles dripped slowly onto the cobblestone below. As usual during these days of political unrest, the village was nearly deserted. No one wanted to risk being seen in public lest Voldemort's supporters should strike. The Wizarding world at large was in hiding, holding its breath, awaiting the next calamity.

The ground around the gates of Hogwarts was muddy and puddle-filled. The iron gates blended seamlessly with the cold gray sky. A loud popping sound disturbed the stillness, causing a few stray birds to caw and flutter from their branches. Hermione and Ginny appeared a short distance from the gates. A moment later, Ron arrived, clutching an unconscious Harry.