Fire swallowed the world.
One moment I was standing in the damp, echoing Chamber, Ginny's light, fragile body in my arms and Harry clinging to my sleeve. The next one, golden flames wrapped around us and we were elsewhere.
We reappeared in the Hogwarts infirmary with a rush of heat and light.
Fawkes remained perched on my shoulder, warm talons gripping my robe. He leaned forward, peering down at Ginny, and let out a soft, sorrowful trill. For a creature of rebirth, even he seemed uncertain.
That… unsettled me more than I cared to admit.
The door to the matron's office flew open.
Madam Pomfrey strode over towards us, her wand already in hand.
Her sharp eyes fell on Ginny. "Bed. Now."
I placed the tiny, unnaturally light body down as instructed. The second she was laid flat, Pomfrey was already flicking her wand, blue, green, and silver diagnostic charms flaring to life over Ginny's chest.
"What happened?" she demanded without looking at us.
I answered honestly. "We found her in the Chamber of Secrets. Her… life force had been drained, we believe."
That did it. Her head snapped up so quickly I thought she might hex me.
"Out," she said, pointing her wand at both Harry and me.
I didn't argue.
She shoved us beyond the curtains and sealed them with a sharp flick. The soft hum of layered privacy charms filled the air.
Harry stood beside me, trembling. "Professor…" he whispered. "Is Ginny going to be okay?"
I looked at him, really looked at him.
He was far too young to be carrying that much fear in his eyes.
I wanted, truly wanted, to lie.
But something in me… perhaps the part that had finally earned that sword… refused.
"I don't know," I admitted quietly. "But Madam Pomfrey is one of the finest healers in Britain. If anyone can help her… it's her."
We waited.
Minutes stretched so long that it felt like hours.
Every flicker of curtain movement made my muscles tense. Fawkes remained utterly still on my shoulder, eyes half-lidded, feeling the air, the magic… perhaps even Ginny's fading pulse.
Then…
FWOOM.
He vanished in a plume of golden fire, almost making me jump in place.
An instant later, flames erupted near the entrance, and Dumbledore stepped through.
His expression was calm. Always calm.
But as a seasoned actor, I am able to notice things most others don't.
There was frustration in his eyes. The kind that came from being outmaneuvered.
I didn't bother softening my tone. "You didn't find anything, did you?"
But he didn't bristle. Only shook his head.
"I'm afraid not," he said gently. "Whoever orchestrated this was extremely skilled at covering their tracks. They've left behind… very little."
I cursed internally.
Tom had really slipped through our fingers.
His gaze moved to the closed curtains. "How is Miss Weasley?"
As if summoned by the question, the curtains drew back and Madam Pomfrey stepped out.
She looked… tired. Not physically, but magically. The kind of exhaustion healers earned when they were fighting hopeless battles.
Dumbledore turned fully toward her. "Poppy… how is she?"
She slowly shook her head.
"There is very little I can do," she said quietly. "She's lost too much. Her life force was… almost entirely drained."
Harry sucked in a sharp breath beside me.
"I've given her a Draught of Living Death," she continued. "She's in suspended animation. It's the only way to slow what's already happening."
She hesitated, then added the words that made my stomach tighten.
"Unless we somehow acquired a Philosopher's Stone and knew how to brew the Elixir of Life… there is no conventional method to save her."
A crushing silence fell over the room.
For once in my life… I had no witty line, no dazzling reassurance, no clever trick.
Only the echo of a girl's fading life behind a curtain.
And the quiet, furious vow that I wouldn't let Tom get away with this.
Then as if we had planned it beforehand, we all turned to Dumbledore at once.
Even I felt it, that thin, foolish thread of hope pulling tight in my chest. If anyone could work a miracle, it was the man standing before us. And if anyone had access to the impossible, it was his old friend.
But, of course, reality is rarely so kind.
"The Stone is gone," Dumbledore said quietly. Like the words were heavy and he didn't wish to drop them too roughly into the room.
Harry's shoulders sagged as if someone had physically pressed him downward. Of course he remembered. It happened just last year. How could he not? He'd nearly died over that damned thing.
Silence stretched between us, sick and hollow.
Then Dumbledore spoke again. "However… I will contact Nicolas."
My head snapped up.
"He had mentioned to me," the Headmaster continued, "that he had retained a very small quantity of the Elixir of Life. Not for immortality… but to settle certain affairs before he and Perenelle chose to pass on, properly."
Madam Pomfrey's expression tightened. "Even with the Elixir," she said, arms folding, "it is not a simple thing."
"I know," Dumbledore said gently. "But doing nothing is not an option."
For the first time since we'd arrived, I felt Harry shift closer to me.
"Professor," he whispered, like he was afraid the word itself might shatter something. "So… she has a chance?"
Dumbledore looked at him then. Truly looked at him.
"Yes," he said. "She does."
It was a small word. But Merlin, it hit the room like a thunderclap.
Pomfrey let out a breath she'd clearly been holding far too long. Fawkes, who was perched quietly on one of the bedposts, gave a soft, hopeful trill, a sound like warm firelight.
I hadn't realized how tightly I'd been clenching my fists until they started to ache.
Good. A chance was enough.
…
Dumbledore turned to Madam Pomfrey. "Poppy, please inform Professor McGonagall to contact Miss Weasley's family."
She nodded once and moved off without another word.
Then his gaze shifted to Potter. "Harry, I trust you to inform her brothers. They deserve to hear it properly."
Potter swallowed hard, but he nodded. "Yes, Professor."
And then, inevitably, those sharp blue eyes settled on me.
"Gilderoy," Dumbledore said calmly, "you're coming with me."
"Coming with you?" I asked, unable to keep the confusion out of my voice. "Where, exactly?"
"To visit an old friend," he replied, already placing a firm hand on my shoulder.
A familiar rush of heat filled the air.
"Fawkes," Dumbledore called softly, and the phoenix appeared in a flash of gold fire. "Take us to Nick."
There was no time to protest as the flames swallowed us whole.
…
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