Remember Me

Hermione and Ron charged through the crowds of people. Everyone else was laughing in relief, celebrating the end of Voldemort, the triumph of good against evil. They surged around Harry, wanting to celebrate with him, to thank him, to be with the person that had ended it all.

As for Ron and Hermione, as far as they were concerned, that could wait.

“Harry!” gasped Hermione as they reached him, dropping down onto her knees. “Oh, Harry...”

He attempted to smile at her, which made it worse, somehow. He was very pale and she could see his lips trembling as if he was trying not to cry out. His face was screwed up in pain. Blood swamped his left cheek, and his face was marred by bruises and cuts. He lay very still, not moving, and looking down it was easy for Hermione to see why. The whole of his chest and right arm had soaked blood into his shirt, making it cling to the wounds he had received.

Ron also dropped to his knees beside Harry and placed a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder. His face was white underneath his scarlet hair. “Bloody hell Harry,” he said.

Harry opened his mouth. “Cass,” he said, choking a little as he got the word out. “Is she…?”

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other, and then looked over to where Cassandra lay.
The sight of her motionless body jerked them into action.

“You look after Harry, I’ll look after Cass!” said Hermione urgently, flinging one of the wands she had picked up off the floor to Ron, who hesitated for a second.

“No,” he said. “You take care of Harry. You’re better at magic than me,” he convinced her, and he hurried over to Cassandra.

People saw Harry, and tried to go over to him, but Hermione wouldn’t let them. “Stay back!” she said. “He needs air.”

They hovered at the side, creating a circle around him. Hermione bit her lip, unsure for a moment how to continue. She had read books on healing charms, but had never actually put them into practise, and she didn’t know if it would be enough. Hermione slid her hands under Harry’s shoulders, wanting to move him into a more comfortable position but became even more worried as Harry shuddered, a whimper of pain escaping him as he tried to move away from her.

“Hermione…c-can’t…h-hurts…”

She jerked her hands away quickly, murmuring apologies that she doubted he heard.

Hermione bent over Harry’s head again. “Harry, I’m going to take a look at your cuts. Tell me if I’m hurting you.”

He gave a little grunt that she took as one of consent, and placed her fingers on the topmost buttons of his shirt. She didn’t want to look at the damage. She had seen how Voldemort had tortured Harry, and it made her sick.

Hermione fumbled with the buttons, her fingers trembling slightly, but she soon had them all undone and gently peeled his shirt away.

She had to gulp in several breaths of air to regain her composure. If it hadn’t been Harry lying there, she would not have stayed there for one moment longer.

The whole of his chest was gleamingly, shockingly red. As she watched, horrified, more blood bubbled up from an enormous, very deep cut that stretched along his torso, reaching across one elbow to the other.

Harry had let out a small cry as she had taken his shirt away from the wound. She murmured a quick stream of comforting words to him, noting how his breathing was harsh and erratic. Cautiously, she began to slide his shirt away from his injured right arm. It seemed to have stuck to the cut.

Harry groaned, shivering. He tried to jerk away from her, his eyes squeezed tightly shut, but that only seemed to cause him more pain. When Hermione looked at him again, his eyes were shut. He seemed to have fainted.

“Hermione?”

She had been so caught up in trying not to hurt Harry any more, she hardly heard Ron. “Hmm?”

“Can you help me for a second?”

She frowned at his voice. It was very calm with no emotion in it, which was strange for Ron. She glanced at his face.

“Please?”

Ron’s voice trembled a little, and she shuffled a little nearer him. “What’s up?”

Ron held Cassandra’s hand out to her. His fingers were closed around her wrist. “I don’t know if I’m looking in the right place, but I can’t feel a pulse.”

Hermione’s eyes widened and she quickly snatched Cassandra’s hand from him. Her heart was beating fast in her chest.

“I’ve tried Enervate,” explained Ron, looking scared. “But it didn’t work.”

Hermione was hardly listening, her finger scuttling like spiders over Cassandra’s wrist in panic. Please, please, she was thinking. Please let me find a pulse. Don’t let Cassandra be-

“There!”

She gasped thankfully, her fingers pressed against the spot where she could feel a small, slow beat. “She’s okay!”

Ron’s body sagged with relief. “Thank God,” he muttered. “I really thought for a moment-“

“She’s alive, get her to wake up!” Hermione commanded, shuffling back over to Harry. “Quickly!”

Ron took Cassandra’s hand between both of his own and started rubbing it. “C’mon, Cass,” he muttered. “Come on.”

He pointed the wand at her again and said, “Enervate.” There was a flash of light, but she didn’t wake up. He had no other idea of how to wake her.

“Come on,” he said again. He glanced over his shoulder at Harry, then reached out and shook Cassandra’s shoulder. “Come on, Cass, wake up!”

He saw her eyelids flutter, and sighed heavily in relief. Ron helped Cassandra sit up as she groaned loudly, putting a hand to her head.

She opened her eyes and glared at Ron, still rubbing her head.

“Hi,” Ron said, grinning despite himself. Cassandra was reminding him of the time he had woken Ginny up when she was still fast asleep. She was staring at him with the same reproachful look. “You missed everything.”

Cassandra groaned again, pressing her face in her hands. “My head…” she muttered. And then Ron’s words began to sink in. She sat up straight, her eyes wide. “What?”

Ron nodded to the scene surrounding them. Cassandra turned slowly round.

“Voldemort’s gone,” she whispered. “But then…” Her head whipped back round to Ron, and she raised a hand to it automatically. It ached, throbbed terribly, beating a painful rhythm like a drum inside her skull. “You’re not going to tell me Harry…”

Ron smiled. “It’s over.”

She froze, her eyes glowing, and then a wide, scrunched-up smile spread slowly across her face like the rising sun. She threw her head back, suddenly oblivious to her headache and laughed loudly out of happiness, out of relief.

Cassandra’s laugh was infectious, and despite himself Ron found himself smiling too. Her arms wound round his neck, and they clung onto each other, laughing. It’s over. Voldemort’s dead. It’s over.

Ron held on to her briefly before pushing her away. She shook her head, pressing it into her hands again and rubbing her temples. When she saw Ron looking at her, she raised her eyebrows.

“I’ve got one hell of a headache.” She appeared to think for a moment. “Suppose that was Gryffindor’s spirit coming out?”

Cassandra looked round the Great Hall again, taking in the sight, and her eyes widened again in surprise. “Look,” she murmured. “They’re healing it.”

Everywhere she looked, people were talking, healing their cuts, looking relieved it was over. But what was most surprising was that the Death Eaters had cast off their masks and seemed to be apologising to people who, even more strangely, seemed to be accepting it.

“They’re healing the rift, Ron,” said Cassandra, grinning happily.

Ron couldn’t wait anymore. “Look, Cass,” he began. “We need to go to Harry.”

“Why?” she shrugged. “Everyone’s probably talking to him now; we’ll get a chance later. What?” she asked, seeing the look on Ron’s face. “Are you worried about that or something?”

Ron rolled his eyes and, not quite knowing how to explain it to Cassandra, took her hand and dragged her over to Harry and Hermione.

Cassandra felt her face turn pale, and she felt slightly sick as she looked down at Harry, the blood pouring from the two large wounds. Hermione was waving her wand, muttering spells with a look of utmost concentration, but nothing was happening.

“They won’t work!” Hermione snapped, blinking back tears as she looked at Cassandra and Ron. “I don’t know anything that will heal cuts like these!”

“Hermione,” muttered Cassandra. She was beginning to feel slightly dizzy. “Hermione, what happened?”

Ron was by Harry’s head. He seemed to have woken up.

“Voldemort,” Hermione explained, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Ron, can you go and fetch Madam Pomfrey please?” she called. “And Cass, can you try and calm Harry down?” Hermione added, looking at Harry’s chest rising and falling quickly.

Ron ran away, and Cassandra shuffled up so Harry could see her, taking deep breaths. “Hey, Harry,” she greeted him softly.

His panicked green eyes met hers, and he opened his mouth to say something, but she shook her head.

“Shut it, Harry.”

His breaths were coming in short, ragged gasps now. It seemed to be an effort for him.
“Hey, it’s alright. It’s okay, I’m here.” Cassandra placed her hand on his cheek, and was struck by how hard he was trembling. He was freezing cold, and his skin was clammy and soaked in sweat. Cassandra’s other hand touched his hair, brushing it back off his face. She remembered how, when she was little, Debbie used to brush her hair in long, even strokes that relaxed her.

She began to pull her fingers gently through Harry’s hair. It had grown longer during their many months on the run, though dirty and matted. To her surprise, she found the task relaxed her too. It was oddly peaceful, and she smiled in triumph as Harry’s breathing started to slow and ease out. She began to listen to the conversations happening around her, slowly pulling her fingers through Harry’s black hair, slipping into a daydream.

“Oh my goodness!”

Madam Pomfrey skidded to a halt, Ron right behind her.

Cassandra slowly stood up, listening as Madam Pomfrey made plans to move Harry to the hospital wing.

“Aren’t you staying?” asked Hermione, surprised.

Cassandra shook her head. “I’ll be back later; there’s something I want to do.”

She had decided to do it when she had heard the conversations around her. Cassandra quickly slipped away into the crowds, headed to the doors into the Entrance Hall. The idea had come to her as she listened, and though the thought of it disgusted her, she wanted to do it. It had to be her.

Her head was really aching now. It weighed her down as she walked on, passing her hand against the rough stone walls. To her surprise, they felt slightly different under her fingertips. She paused and leant against the wall. A comforting, familiar feeling spread over her. It was as if the dry stone was alive; it seemed to be pulsing and beating under her touch. She recognised it.

“So I guess you’re the spirit of Godric Gryffindor?” she murmured. “Nice to be back where you belong, huh?”

She gave the wall a friendly pat, and walked off, even happier that she would not have Gryffindor’s spirit in her head anymore. To tell the truth, having all the dreams had been quite annoying.

Cassandra stopped outside a little wooden door that she had never been in before. She stretched out a hand to open it, and was forced to take a few deep breaths to calm herself.

She did not want to do this. She really, really didn’t, but it was her choice, and she wanted it done.

Cassandra pushed open the door, and immediately her eyes fell on the body of Lord Voldemort.

Voldemort lay with his red eyes staring unseeingly at the ceiling. They had obviously placed him in here with little care, just wanting him to be out of sight. His skin was pale, and Voldemort looked somehow much weaker in death than he had in life.

Cassandra forced herself to move forward. The sight sickened her, she was repulsed by it, but something in her said that it would, at last, be truly healing the rift.

She hesitantly crouched by Voldemort’s head and, hating herself as she did it, placed her fingers on his eyelids, and slid them down over his unseeing eyes. The last descendant of Salazar Slytherin was dead, gone, and the girl who had once carried the spirit of Godric Gryffindor looked down on the body, surprised at how calm, how unfeeling she now was.

“There,” she whispered softly. “We won.”

Cassandra quickly turned and walked out of the room, not wanting to stay there a moment longer. Voldemort’s corpse scared her almost more than Voldemort had in life. The happiness that had filled her when she had first heard Voldemort was dead had gone, but it didn’t worry her. She knew that celebrations would, for her at least, come later, but all she wanted to do now was eat, shower and go to sleep.

Instead, she turned her feet back to the Great Hall again, this time searching for two people. She had only been in there five seconds when someone came rushing up and hugged her so tightly Cassandra felt as if her bones were being crushed.

“Ow! What are you trying to, Debbie, kill me or something?”

Cassandra pulled away from the hug and glared at Debbie. Debbie’s face was a mix of emotions; relief, happiness, worry and anger.

“Oh, Cass!”

Cassandra watched as Debbie began to cry. Feeling awkward, she muttered, “It’s okay. I’m here.”

“I thought you were dead when you disappeared from St Mungo’s! Why didn’t you tell me you got your memory back? Oh, God, did the Death Eaters capture you?”

“No!” Cassandra held up her hands. “I ran away from there. Look, I’ll explain later,” she added as Debbie opened her mouth. “Um, have you seen John?”

Debbie batted this question aside and launched into a new topic. “And what did you do tonight? I saw you, I was watching. When…what exactly happened? I just saw Gryffindor…coming out of you. Did you even think how dangerous that was? You could have got yourself killed!”

Cassandra fiddled with her hair. “I…didn’t think, really,” she said. “Harry was in danger, I had to help him or Voldemort would kill him!”

“And you?”

“I didn’t think…I had to help Harry.”

Cassandra could see an argument brewing, so she quickly asked her question again. “Have you seen John?”

Debbie finally relaxed, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “He’s fine,” she said, smiling. “Really. The Imperius Curse is lifted. He’s a bit disorientated at the moment, but Healers are with him. He’ll be fine.”

“Well, can I see him, then?”

Debbie placed her hand on Cassandra’s shoulder. “He’s been moved to St Mungo’s for a little while. But we’ll see him very soon, I promise.”

Cassandra nodded, and turned around, walking away from the Great Hall and up the marble staircase. Debbie ran behind her.

“Where are you going?”

“To see Harry.”

Debbie hesitated. “Cass…he’s been, well, tortured.” Cassandra grimaced at the word. “Maybe now isn’t the best time.”

“I don’t care,” said Cassandra, turning left. “Just…oh, hell.”

They had come to the doors of the hospital wing, which were hidden from sight by crowds of people, all waiting patiently outside. None of them, however, seemed to be injured.
Cassandra pushed her way to the front of the crowd, and looked at the notice on the door.

No more visitors.

“We’ll see about that,” muttered Cassandra, and, pointing her wand at the door, walked inside the hospital wing.

She saw immediately where Harry was, though not because she saw him. A bed in the far corner was completely surrounded by red headed people. However, most of them seemed to be sleeping.

Cassandra smiled at the sight. She saw Ron and Hermione, Hermione’s head resting on Ron’s shoulder, both of them snoring softly. Now, the relief it was all over, and their tiredness had overtaken them. They could finally relax.

Cassandra moved closer to the bed. Madam Pomfrey was fussing over Harry, her wand out and an agitated expression on her face. Harry’s cuts were still bleeding freely, blood sheeting down onto the previously white bed, which was now stained a dirty red.
She shuddered and looked away, but when she saw Harry’s face she frowned. He was awake, his eyes open, looking brighter. He didn’t look as pale and didn’t seem to be in pain anymore.

“You look remarkable chirpy for someone who’s bleeding loads, don’t you?” Cassandra remarked, grinning at Harry.

“I said no more visitors!” said Madam Pomfrey, but she didn’t seem that bothered.

“Well, I’m the only awake one! Honestly,” Cassandra said to Harry, jerking her head towards Ron and Hermione. “Some people have no stamina.”

He grinned. “I didn’t know Hermione snored.”

“Oh, you can’t get to sleep at night in the dormitories, she’s so noisy. We have to cast Silencing Charms on her,” Cassandra joked, her eyes still flickering from Harry’s obviously injured body to his healthy-looking head. “So what’s up with you?”

It was Madam Pomfrey who replied. “I’ve given him a Blood-Replenishing Potion and cast a Numbing Charm on him that will stop him feeling any pain. He was hit by a curse I’ve never heard of before…it makes him be in terrible pain whenever he moves.” Her tone was disgusted.

“And those?” asked Cassandra, nodding towards the deep, wide gashes.

“Curse wounds,” Madam Pomfrey replied, shaking her head. “I’ve tried all I can, but I think these will have to heal the Muggle way…”

“But he’ll be alright?”

She looked affronted. “Of course he will.”

Cassandra smiled, and turned back to Harry, yawning widely.

“No stamina?” he teased.

Cassandra raised her eyebrows briefly. “Oh, shut up.”

She drew up a chair and made herself comfortable. “So, Ron told me I missed everything,” she began. “Bit of a shame, really, I’d have loved to see it. Oh, wow, wouldn’t it be cool if someone had, I dunno, recorded it or something? Then I could watch it back and actually see what happened.”

“Yeah,” said Harry sarcastically. “Make good Saturday Night TV.”

“What’s TV?”

“Don’t worry.”

They stayed in silence for a while, both of them listening to the other’s breathing, filled with relief that they were alive.

“Thanks,” said Cassandra, dropping her voice so it was almost a whisper.

Harry looked uncomfortable. “You helped too.”

Cassandra raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “Pardon?”

“You did it too! With the Gryffindor thing, that was really brave.”

Cassandra shook her head slowly. “Harry, you are such an idiot. Look what you’ve done. You’ve made the most evil wizard in the world go. You’ve made the world a much, much better place. You’ve saved people’s lives, kept families together, caused less pain and suffering in the world. And you say thanks to me?” She smiled. “I didn’t do anything, Harry. I might be the descendant of Godric Gryffindor, I might have been on the run with you and lost my memory and got taken to Voldemort along with you, but that doesn’t change anything. It’s all about you.” She yawned again. “So be selfish for once, and take all the credit. That’s what I’d do.”

She yawned again, watching Harry’s face carefully. Cassandra bent over, and kissed him on the forehead.

“Thanks, Harry,” she said again. “For more than getting rid of Voldemort. For just…being there, I guess.”

“Yeah,” muttered Harry, feeling heat creep up his neck. “You too, Cass.”

She smiled, and dropped her head next to his on the pillow. She looked very tired.

Harry wanted to talk to her, to tell her, but somehow he could not find the words. He closed his eyes, getting ready, then turned his head to look at her.

“Cass?”

But she didn’t hear him. Sleep had finally overtaken her, and a few minutes later Harry was sleeping too, his black head tilted slightly towards her bright gold one.