A cold feeling enveloped Harry from toes to ears. He shivered and backed away from the ghost, until he came flush against the wall behind him. "What do you want?"
"What we all want, Mr. Potter." The dark caves narrowed, trapping the lurking danger inside. "Peace."
With that, the ghost floated right through Harry, raising goosebumps all over his skin and making him feel bloody and exhausted and bruised, as if he'd been in a fight. One he'd lost. But before Harry could turn or make a sound or call him back to explain himself, the Baron vanished through the wall behind him.
Harry leant against the wall for a long moment, catching his breath. Using the smooth, damp stone for support, he forced his feet to move, one after the other, until he was well away from that cul de sac. It took forever, it seemed like, before he finally reached an area he recognized. Aside from still panting a little and with a trace of a hitch in chest when he breathed, he was mostly recovered by the time he entered the common room at last – or as much as he could be after being run through by a ghost. He made his way directly to the table he and his study group used each night. . . but no one was there.
And the common room was oddly quiet, too, especially for this first Friday. Only a few older students lurked about in corners . . . including a couple snogging in the shadows near the corridor to the girls' dorm. Harry had expected a lot more activity. Wouldn't everyone be excited about the end of the first week of school? Teddy had said as much, when commiserating with Harry over his week's worth of detentions.
Checking the time on the mantel clock over the fireplace, though, Harry shocked, but he understood why it was so quiet. How in the world had it gotten to be 2 am?
It had been the Bloody baron, he was sure of it. Something weird had happened when the ghost went through him. But he didn't remember anything . . .
"Potter!" a voice said behind him, and Harry jumped, turning around for the second time that night to face something less than pleasant. This time, the person was very much alive, and very, very angry. Snape continued, "To what do I owe . . ." before he suddenly trailed off, eyes widening. "Come with me," he ordered, then turned on his heel and marched back out the portrait door and along the corridor toward his office.
More exhausted than he could ever explain, Harry just sighed and trailed after him, through the dark corridors, and through the door that slammed open to admit them both to Snape's office.
Snape pointed at the chair in front of his desk. "Sit." Harry did, watching as Snape opened the door behind his desk that led to his private potion stores and stormed in there. He returned a minute later with several bottles which he placed in a row in front of Harry at the edge of the desk. "Remove your shirt."
"Sir?"
"Do it now, Potter. You are covered in blood. I wish to discover if any of it is yours."
Harry looked down at himself for the first time since the Bloody Baron had slid through him. To his horror and disgust, the front of his robe was soaked with blood, as was the button down shirt underneath. He peeled both away from his skin, making a face as the shirt stuck to him and he had to yank it away. Doing so stung, and he winced.
"What, pray tell, have you run afoul of this time?" Snape asked as Harry pulled off his robe and let it fall to the floor. His fingers shook as he undid the buttons on his shirt, and then he saw that they too – no, his whole hands! – were red and tacky with blood.
"I . . . I don't know, sir," he said, starting to tremble as the coppery tang of the blood hit his nose and the pulse of his heart sounded extra loud in his ears. He could almost feel it flowing through his veins. Lub dub. Lub dub. It wasn't until his shirt was open and he saw the deep gouge in his chest that he realized at least some of the blood was his own. And then the pain hit, and somewhere in his mind was a little voice telling him he was in shock and that's why he hadn't felt anything before, but in the next second, he locked eyes with Snape, shook his head uncomprehendingly, and dropped like a stone as the world turned black.
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