[27] He's Gone-- For Now

                                    

                                          
Something gold was glinting just above me. It kinda looked like the Golden Snitch. I blinked and realized it wasn't the Snitch, but a pair of glasses. I blinked again. The smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swam into view above me. I gasped, sitting up quickly. Way too quickly I realized as my vision blurred slightly  when I looked around me. I could just make out the castle's infirmary around me before I turned back to Dumbledore. 
                          
"Professor Dumbledore, what am I doing here?" I asked him uncertainly. 
                          
"Do you recall anything about last night, Rory?" Dumbledore's kind voice asked.
                          
I squinted my eyes in concentration as I tried to remember what happened to land me in the infirmary. Suddenly, flashes appeared before my eyes. Fluffy, Devil's Snare, giant killer chessmen, knocked out troll, Snape's potion test--- QUIRRELL AND VOLDEMORT!
                          
"The Stone! Quirrell tried to steal the Stone. Voldemort came back!" I cried in horror. I couldn't be sure what happened after Harry and I passed out. HARRY!
                          
"Wait, where's Harry? Is he okay? Please tell me he isn't dead!" I shouted in panic. Harry couldn't be dead, we promised each other we wouldn't leave one another. I promised to protect him. 
                          
Dumbledore waved his hand to me and said in a reassuring voice, "Relax, Rory, everything is fine. You needn't worry yourself about the Stone or Quirrell. And as for Mr. Potter, he is right here." The Headmaster stepped aside to reveal Harry lying on the bed next to mine. His eyes were closed but I let out a sigh of relief when I saw the rise and fall of his chest. He was alive.
                          
"Is he going to be alright, Professor?" I questioned nervously.
                          
"Harry will be just fine, Rory. As will you," Dumbledore said. 
                          
Slowly, I lowered myself back onto the bed and laid my head on the pillow. My head was dully pounding and my body was sore all over. I could still remember Quirrell choking me to death. 
                          
"Oh, I believe he's waking up," Dumbledore told me. I turned my head and watched as Dumbledore leaned over Harry's stirring form. Harry's arms slightly raised and reached out to grab at something. No doubt, he thought that Dumbledore's glasses was the Snitch like I did. Harry then blinked a couple of times, finally awake.
                          
"Good afternoon, Harry," said Dumbledore. Harry stared at him. Then he shouted, "Sir! The Stone! It was Quirrell! He's got the Stone! Sir, quick--"
                          
"Calm yourself, dear boy, you are a little behind the times," said Dumbledore. "Quirrell does not have the Stone."
                          
"Then who does? Sir, I--"Harry kept questioning.
                          
"Harry, please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out," Dumbledore stated matter of factly.
                          
"Rory!" Harry exclaimed in panic. "Where is she? Is she okay? What happened to her?"
                          
Harry swallowed and looked around before his eyes fell on me. 
                          
"Rory?"
                          
"I'm here," I reached my hand across the space between our beds, palm face up. Harry leaned towards me, placing his hand in mine. "I'm okay, you're okay. We're okay."
                          
He sighed in relief and gave me a soft smile. Dumbledore stared quietly at our entwined fingers before glancing back and forth between us with a knowing glint in his eyes. For a moment, I thought about taking a peek into his mind but quickly dismissed it. I would never do that to anybody, especially not to someone I respected as much as I did Dumbledore.