The Bent Boy
I don't mind losing sleep
Pray the lord my soul to keep
I'll get plenty of rest when I'm dead
But 'til then won't you share my bed 'cause
All I mind's losing you.
Losing You -John Butler Trio
O O O
He was glowing. Red and gold and purple. light shone through his t-shirt, so he appeared to be a firefly of some sort, with his pale skin shining brightly lighting up the room.
Dumbledore was in the room, too, as I had called an assembly of people together when I first noticed the resonant quality of his previously pale skin. Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were there standing and observing him, along with Carter, Neville, Ron, and Hermione. Sirius sat in his dog form near the edge of the bed, having reemerged from wherever Dumbledore had hidden him until a big event like this came up.
"Minerva, Floo-call Bill Weasley. Tell him we need him in the infirmary," said Dumbledore.
McGonagall shot the Headmaster a look, confused no doubt at my brother's need, as was I, before rushing into Madam Pomfrey's office, where a fireplace must exist.
I stared at Harry, chest heaving a bit too hard, nervous for what was to come next. I had to wait out the odd situation, though, or else I'd go insane with worry.
I reached out through the tense breathing in the room with my hand, nearly grasping Harry's before an age-spotted one grasped my arm in a surprisingly strong hold.
"I don't believe it wise to touch Mr. Potter."
I stared at the solemn Headmaster. "Why's that?" I asked, voice little more than a whisper.
"That glow you're seeing is his curse," he explained, releasing my hand. "To touch a curse like that could have dramatic consequences for the perpetrator. You could get a backlash or a part of the curse, or perhaps the entire quantity of it."
I let out a breath, interested with this bit of information. "Would it remove it from Harry?"
"I know not for sure," Dumbledore said, "but I don't believe it would, no. Instead, it would likely affect both of you in equal measures."
I nodded, humbled with this bit of information. I was about to sink onto an empty hospital cot when my eldest brother walked in, followed by a harried McGonagall.
"Bill!" I exclaimed, and I heard similar sentiments from Ron. He was dressed in a loose, white tunic and brown khakis, his red hair pulled back in a sweaty ponytail. Clearly, he had been at work in the tombs right before.
He took in the sight before him of Harry glowing. Then, turning, he looked first at Ron and then me grimly. He approached me cautiously, as though I would react explosively if any sudden movements were made. I wasn't sure I wouldn't. "How are you holding up?"
I took a shaky breath. "I don't know. Look at-" I broke off, gesturing to Harry's bedside, where his glowing chest was rising and falling with forced air.
Bill carried his stare from me to Harry. A moment passed, then, eyes unable to leave the boy in the bed, asked, "That the curse?"
Dumbledore moved forward, standing a foot away from Harry's bed.
"Yes, I believe so. Can you remove it?"
Bill's eyes snapped onto Dumbledore. "I-I've only ever removed curses from non-living things. I don't know if-have you tried?" My brother was flustered, more than I've ever seen him. I was thrown off by this: Bill was sure, steady, strong.
"I am afraid my gifts do not lie in the art of curses. Transfiguration, though useful in many respects, cannot help Harry." If Dumbledore looked at me like that, eyes piercing severely into my temple, I would have felt self-conscious; however, Bill merely looked back at Harry, biting his lip in thought.
"Amazing," he murmured, hovering a hand over Harry, shadows reflecting off his face and fang earring forebodingly. "Why is the curse at the surface? A group of the best curse-breakers around and I couldn't even locate its center."
I looked over at Neville, as did most others in the room.
The Boy Who Lived cleared his throat nervously. "We made the MutatioHistoria potion. It stops further mutations from occurring in his cells by putting the curse in a stasis mode."
"Neville made MutatioHistoria," I said, and many pairs of eyes snapped to me. "If it weren't for him, there would be no hope for Harry." I smiled softly at Neville, trying to show my thanks for his efforts, even if they didn't turn out for the best. He blushed under the praise.
"Brilliant," said Bill. He pulled out his wand, glancing at the headmaster. "If I may?"
Dumbledore nodded in assent, stepping back. Others did too, but I leaned forward, eager to see what Bill was going to try.
His brow furrowed, and he aimed his wand purposefully at my boyfriend's chest. He said an incantation under his breath. I waited expectantly, holding my breath. I could hear my own heart beat as I stared at Harry, fingernails digging into my palms, hoping for some sort of response. And then Bill's shoulder's sagged, and I let out all the air in my lungs. I breathed again, disappointed.
"Rewording, to get it. . .," Bill whispered, rubbing his eyes as he tried to concentrate. I'd never seen my brother look so serious. Then again, I'd never seen him work.
Straightening up again, the room was still death still, everyone on their toes, and Bill pointed his wand again.
Bill recited an indecipherable spell once more, and I expected nothing. In fact, there appeared to have been no results, and I slumped down.
Then I heard Hermione's frantic voice. "Look!" she exclaimed in an excited whisper. "Ginny, look!" She shook my arm, and I stuttered my neck around. I inhaled sharply.
The multicolored light that was emanating from Harry had centered. His chest was now five times as bright as it was before and growing brighter by the second. It was as though the northern lights had settled and were focusing themselves inside of my boyfriend. The room was aglow.
Bill's wand was attached to what looked like a thread of light that connected to Harry's chest.
"A vial!" he shouted. "Get me a container! Anything glass!"
Madam Pomfrey rushed away into her office. Ten tense seconds later, in which the thread of light grew longer and Bill stepped back, Pomfrey was back with a glass jar in hand.
I grabbed it from her as she rushed near, and I came near Bill. This was important. I had to be a part of it.
He glanced at me once briefly, before completely focusing his efforts back onto the light connected to his wand.
"Hold the jar open towards me. On the count of three, I am going to force this light into it. I need you to close it when the last of the light enters. Understand?"
"Yes," I said, breathless with adrenaline.
"Okay," said Bill, pulling at the light a bit. "One," his wand yanked, and Harry jerked, his body flinging as though in a seizure. I cried out, startled, but I slammed both of my feet back on the ground again. I could to do this. "Two," and the light was leaving Harry nearly completely. His chest glowed only in the center. "Three!" and Bill pulled his wand all the way away, flicking his wrist expertly and the light-the curse-flew into the jar, jolting me hard, and I grunted, the wind knocked out of me.
And I did, unable to breath. I slammed the lid shut and fell to the ground, tears escaping the corners of my eyes. Whether from pain or emotion, I knew not.
I vaguely registered a spell being cast over me, and then my airway was clear and I could breath. I panted, dizzy with exertion.
Bill kneeled down beside me, laughing slightly. "All in a day's work, Gin, huh?"
I barked out a slightly hysterical laugh, the room spinning around me. I clutched the jar to my chest, as if to keep myself grounded.
"This damn jar," I said, leaning against the side of Harry's bed. My vision swam, and the concerned faces peered down at me. "Evil." The faces started to fade. "Nothing but evil."
A curtain of red hair fogged my vision. "It's done. Gone."
And with those last words of victory, the world turned dark, and I knew no more.
O O O
A/N: I should finish this sometime. Sorry. College is wonderful, but I have not been writing like I used to. Probably why. This is unfortunate for you, I am afraid. I have been writing this story for three years. Oh, god. Review!