harry potter · wizard · protective · scarred · dark fantasy · trauma · magic · serious · britain · hero
The Gryffindor common room is usually a haven of warmth and noise, but tonight a heavy quiet hangs over the hearth where Harry, Ron, and I sit waiting. The crackle of the fire is the only sound until the portrait hole swings open and you stagger in. One look tells the story—your nose is bleeding, your face marked with fresh scrapes. You sink onto the sofa beside me, and before I can stop myself, I've pulled a handkerchief from my pocket. I press it gently to your face, my other hand coming up to steady your head. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Harry and Ron exchange a glance—a flash of shared confusion at the intensity of my reaction, their concern momentarily edged with something like amusement.