"I was bringing it to you…"
Henry blinked, feeling such dismay for his new friend. Lodgok cast his eyes down, anxiety and resignation shackling his body. I believe you, my friend, he wanted to say, but his lips felt sewn shut, jaw too tight with anxiety. I know you were, a voice murmured behind Henry's thick tongue. The expression on the goblin's face is a startling echo of the couple flashes Henry has seen as though they were a distant memory. This is familiar, as though he had experienced it through other eyes.
We have.
"You are a traitor to our kind!" No, Henry wanted to tell the overlord. Lodgok only meant peace; I foolishly drew him into this.We can talk about this. We can-. "Traitors are beneath my company," Ranrok growled, clawed hand pulling back, magic manifesting.
"Wait- No!" Henry reached out, his legs moving to intercept as a shockwave sent Lodgok crashing into the wooden beams behind them. Henry physically flinched as he heard the crunch of the body molding with the wall and flopping to the ground, Henry's useless hand outstretched to catch what he'd failed to protect. Lodgok… he was-. Henry skidded next to the body of his fallen friend. He saw the stillness and the blood. He sees it. But even so, he crouched nearby, protecting Lodgok with his body as he assessed the damage.
He can be saved, he can be saved, there's still time.
"Avada Kedavra!" Snapping up a protective shield that would do nothing, Henry realized it was Rookwood who had fired at Ranrok. The goblin looked prepared to respond with a more assertive message, but the walls around them shook. All parties took a deep breath, sucked in preparation for the unstoppable. Then, the pillars crackling and splintering. The rocks crashed down from the ceiling and Henry shrank when he locked eyes with Ranrok.
His expression had a different sort of fury, like Henry had personally been the reason his younger brother had gone against him. This part wasn't true, but Henry had been the one to pull Lodgok from the safety of Hogsmeade. Ranrok's gleaming eyes fell upon Lodgok's body, expression twisting. For once, Henry felt like this was none of his business. Like he had stumbled upon something that wasn't his to be witnessed. Even so, Henry sucked in a breath and scooped up Lodgok's body, wand clutched in the hand under his friend's limp knees as he bolted to the exit.
A startling snap of power exploded next to the wooden beams, and he jerked to the side when wood and metal showered over him. The additional weight had Henry staggering with a jolt of ripe fear(if he fell now, there may be no leaving here alive). He'd only narrowly caught himself on his uncooperative feet as he blindly ran. He couldn't protect himself with his arms full, but his boots knew the way to the exit, and he persisted.
There's still time, there's still time, be quick, be quick, faster-. Henry hurdled up the stairs by twos and threes, legs irritatingly heavy, breath ragged. His hair had come loose from its clasp, and he spat some strands from his mouth. He swung his right leg over the seat and started the vehicle to take them to relative safety. The headlights crackled and flashed before turning on, and they were both off. Henry grasped only one of the handles as he held his friend across his lap, murmuring prayers to whoever would hear him.
Please, mama, he whispered in his mind, because who else would care enough to hear him from above? If there was a God, he did not look favorably down upon Henry DeWitt. Because Lodgok didn't do anything but know Henry. From the start, he was skeptical, and Henry strode into the Hogs Head like a possible confidant, sure of his own plans. All of Henry's friendly words and bargains of trust—foolish hope.
Not much time passed before Henry stumbled out of the crumbling mine, a weight on his left leg dragging him down, clutching Lodgok's body to his chest, one arm under his swinging knees and the other under his limp neck. But even then, once Henry wobbled down the metal walkway and collapsed in front of the seafront... he knew. He knew Death. He could feel Death's hands wisp over Lodgok's body, the way the fabric of his existence felt abandoned. An empty shell, his magic told him. Henry knew what the feeling of someone who had just passed was. He knew Death's face and their touch; he knew their fair greed and their demands that we not take this life for granted. Henry knew… in the stillness and silence that his friend was dead.
And the face Death left him to look down upon was mirrored of another from his memory.
"Neither of you deserved it, mama," Henry murmured. His mind echoed in sorrow, an overwhelming grief. He hadn't called her 'mama' since he was a babe because he always considered 'Mum' more grown-up. He wished that he had called her 'mama' more. He wished he was back on the farm. He wished he was plain. He wished he had invited Lodgok out to some Butterbeer before this to get a chance to truly, honestly know him.
What right do I have to grieve this soul? Henry asked himself, and then, with wrenching guilt and undeserved fear, he thought, what am I to tell Sirona? His lips trembled as he sat there for a small while longer. Trying to breathe through hiccups, Henry listened to the waves lap at the sand and mud. He reached up to push his gritty hair out of his face. He hadn't properly gotten a bath in days. His hair was greasy and covered in a layer of dirt. It stuck to his forehead from sweat and clung to the underside of his chin from tears. After a moment, he tried to stand - stop.
The movement sent a bolt of pain spearing up his leg, and Henry choked, eyes snapping downward.
A piece of wood jabbed through the meat of his left calf. It was thin and only about 10 centimeters long but implanted in his skin, tearing through his trousers. He almost refused to believe it was there, as the blast Ranrok had sent towards him couldn't have possibly caused this. And yet here it was, quite literally, sticking out of his body. From the looks of it, it was a good 2 centimeters from the surface of his leg and plunged right through to the other side like an arrow. He didn't think it hit anything vital.
Henry stared at it, eyes wide. How had he not noticed? Even then, he tried to take a deep breath only to feel a wave of nausea rise at the sudden and demanding pain. What… What do you do when you have wood lodged in your calf? He could still move his foot, still feel it, so… that was good, right?
He looked away from it, swallowing thickly and staring across the sea.
"God," he whispered anyway, "what am I going to do now? Please, tell me what I need to do." He had the limp body of a friend in his lap, a piece of wood sticking out of his leg, and an urgent need to rush to the Keepers to tell them about what Ranrok now knew. Sebastian and Ominis would surely want to know about this, but to put them in any more danger was almost too much to consider. Natty was essentially grounded. Fig could only help so much, and none of the other professors knew what was happening. His father was miles away, and his mother was miles above. And… so was Lodgok now. Henry sucked in a deep breath as the voice whispered in the back of his mind.
Stand and persist. We can't be caught here, child. Danger hunts us even now.
Henry pressed his lips together and tottered to his feet, nearly listing to the side when his leg acted up, Lodgok's dirt-covered body in his arms. Henry couldn't even treat his body with respect, with its state, a horrible friend he was. He could feel Lodgok's blood, still warm, against his chest from the head wound. He most likely died on impact; Death was prepared to grasp his soul and pull him away from its broken body. Henry hoped it was quick, for he deserved no pain.
Riseandendure.
Henry started limping away from the mines, a sway in his steps.
Locate a floo port, and do not stop treading.
He felt his boots tremble as he followed the shoreline. The salt stuck to the inside of his mouth, and every time Henry swallowed, he could taste it. His eyes were crusted, and his leg made him gag every time he placed any sort of responsibility on it. Lodgok added weight, but Henry couldn't leave him there—not in that empty and crumbling mine, though he is ashamed to say he considered leaving him on the beach. Lodgok deserved a grave and friends who could see him, so Henry continued onward.
What sort of Keeper am I? He asked himself with startling viciousness. Why the hell did that asshead hat put me in Gryffindor? Why was I given a gift unfit for such cowardly filth? He wasn't a savior or protector. Henry was a murderer and a blasted idiot. A waste of life. A waste of magic. A waste of comfort. A waste of the very clothes on his back and all of the extra work his professors put in to get him up to speed. Because he was going to die.
Henry would die in the last repository, though he came to terms with that long ago. Almost felt fitting. After perhaps an hour, he arrived at a cabin farther along the shore. There was a floo-point there, surely.
What of your siblings?
Henry grits his teeth so harshly that his jaw creaks.
What of father?
His shoulder hurt.
Will they not mourn the loss of your life, child?
Henry threw words back at the voice: Keep walking.
He kept walking.
Henry blinked slowly when he got to the cabin with the floo spot outside. He had to take a moment to lean against the stone wall just to allow something else to take his weight. His leg didn't particularly feel better for it, but it wasn't as terrible. A small part of him wanted someone to come along and ask if he was alright, if he needed aid. Someone who was capable of handling this small piece of awfulness for him.
But that wouldn't happen.
Sucking in a deep breath, the teen reached out to grab the floo powder. On the first try, the powder only drifted to the ground and coated his boots, as he'd tilted too far and only grasped the stone. He let his head fall against the top of the stone, ragged hair curtaining his view. Tears burned his eyes as he trembled, gasping in pain and lost on what to do. "Please," he whimpered, "give me strength, mama, to carry his body to Sirona." He sucked in a deep breath, imagining his mother's firm hands and her unwavering strength in tone. He imagined her holding on to his shoulder, encouraging him on. He heard her voice urging him to 'keep the faith' and 'keep those feet on the ground; they'll carry you to where you ought to be.'
Henry lifted his head, exhausted.
"Merlin's beard, my young friend! Adventuring too far?" the headstone asked. Henry ignored it (because a headstone of a dead adult didn't count) and readjusted Lodgok, pain lancing through his calf and spreading through his leg. He reached out with the hand under Lodgok's legs and threw a second handful down. A gust of wind crackled in his bones, and the world dissolved uncomfortably.
❈✢❈
Henry ended up inside the Undercroft an hour later. It was late, and nobody was there to see him wobble down the stairs with a stick in his calf and shift behind the wall. He closed his eyes when the barred gate shut behind him.
Before getting here, Henry had first gone to Hogsmeade, carried Lodgok down to the Three Broomsticks, knocked, and found the place nearly empty. When he entered, Sirona was sitting behind the counter, counting the day's pay and writing something down on parchment. She had looked up at the sound of the doors swinging open and closed, her mouth falling open at the, no doubt horrendous, sight of him.
"Henry? Oh-." He only carried himself forward pathetically and mumbled apology after apology when she gasped upon the sight of her dear friend.
"He- he was murdered, Ranrok- I didn't- it's my fault," Henry told her. "I'm so sorry, Sirona, I couldn't- I wasn't fast enough-. Could you bury him? I couldn't leave him there." She gently took Lodgok from his arms and he almost felt barren without his purpose of carrying the goblin. "I am so, so sorry, Sirona, I-."
"Hush, my friend," she spoke softly, much more than he deserved. "I somehow knew that day when Rookwood came in here, seeking you, that I would find you here, unraveled and battered. I did not expect Death to follow you, but I should have. I don't believe you are to blame, you hear me?" He only shook and trembled in his boots, hands twitching to grasp for his injury as if gripping it would ease some of its stress. "First, we'll work on that." He ignored the way her eyes trailed down to the wound in his calf as she spoke.
I am Death, Henry realized, looking upon Lodgok once more. Sirona shifted around him towards the staircase, her expression melancholy. "I will be right back; you stay right there." I am Death's unrivaled companion. They linger on my shoulders as I am on their schedule and await my next victim of circumstance.
We are not Death.
Henry did not 'stay right there'. As soon as Sirona disappeared for half a minute, most likely to tend to the friend Henry killed, he left. He turned and exited through the doors, unable to face her again as he realized that, those few moments ago, was the last time he'd ever see Lodgok. He left and swore he would never allow himself to take in the comfort of the Three Broomsticks again. He murmured a 'goodbye' to Sirona Ryan, which she wouldn't hear, and continued to the next floo point.
Now, Henry sat in the center of the Undercroft, leaning on one of the pillars, the light bearing down on his trembling hands. Lodgok's blood had long gone cold and sticky on Henry's chest through his red and gold sweater. He'd liked that sweater.
Some part of him wanted to see his partners appear. A more consequential part was terrified for even being here. Because people get injured just by associating with Henry. For once in a long while, Henry thought about the man in the carriage. His name had been George Osric. Henry's hands trembled at the memories that bounced around in his mind, relentless.
The sound of the carriage snapping in half, hearing the crunch of the dragon destroying the other half, Mr.Osric inside. Perhaps that crunch was the sound of his body being cut into? The snapping of limbs and bending of bones-. Henry smacked a hand against the side of his head, yelping at how it jostled the wood in his leg.
"Fuck," he swore, voice tight with anguish. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." He hadn't a clue how to deal with that. Letting gravity take hold, he hit his head against the pillar. Looking up at the Undercroft ceiling and feeling the foreign object in his leg, though thin, only aided his terror. He trembled and shook and shuddered. His body was a terribly thin barrier between the pains in his mind and the swirling devastation of his magic.
Be strong, child, the voice whispered in his ears.
Henry only shook his head, biting his lips as tears brimmed his eyes. The consciousness of his magic was warm and considerate and Henry was faltering under it. He hadn’t a clue which part of him that level of comfort came from, but it was building the churning anxiety in his limbs.
We must tell the Keepers about Ranrok.
Henry sunk his teeth into his lips, breath catching in his lungs. He sucked in to clear it.
Get up, child.
Henry's shoulders shook, and his hands spasmed.
Get up, Henry.
He groaned.
Persist, Henry.
He was weak, and he wanted to sleep. His own internal voice assisted the consciousness that lay in the corner of his mind, though it was much harsher in nature.
Henry, get up, you idiot! Get up! Don't be so selfish! People will die soon! Get up, Henry! Get up, Henry! Get up-. "Henry!"
Eyes flying open, Henry went rigid when hands grasped his shoulders, pulling him forward slightly.
"Henry, Merlin's beard, what happened? Shit-!" The panic in Sebastian’s voice struck something in him, worried and comforted.
"What, Sebastian?"
"There's a- his leg is injured, badly." Warmth and comfort bled from the hands that held his shoulders and inspected his form. He wanted to fall into them, into their concern. But Ranrok's hate-filled eyes burned into his soul, and Henry knew danger was brewing in retaliation. The reality of possible doom loomed over him.
Henry swallowed, weakly pushing his hair back to open his view of the two beside him. His dry mouth opened, "Ranrok is coming."
"What?" Clearing his voice, Henry spoke again.
"Ranrok is coming, I need-."
"No, Henry, you need to get to the hospital wing," Sebastian told him sternly, a croak in his odd tone, edging fear. Henry jerked, swinging his view to his right.
"No, Sebastian, no," he grasped Sebastian's robes with his left hand. "We've no time! Lodgok's dead, and I don't know how much longer Ranrok will take to gather his army. I must speak with the Keepers."
"Henry," Sebastian reached up and grasped his hand, thumb brushing over his knuckles, so soothing and so undeserved. "You are injured, love. Whatever fight you anticipate will not last long for you in this state."
"Sebastian's right, much as I find it weird to say," Ominis said from his other side, voice softer but not less firm. "Tell us where to take you, and we will take you, but you cannot go on this way." Gentle fingers prodded at the skin near his wounded calf. He spasmed a bit at the unexpected touch, instinctively leaning into Sebastian’s hold as though it could make the pain go away. The fingers retreated quickly. Henry's thoughts ran wild, but one stuck out to him.
I won't survive this fight anyway; I just need to keep on long enough to defeat Ranrok.
Even still, he staggered to his feet, his partners quickly following his lead. "Professor Fig," he spoke with a gasp. "Professor Fig will know what to do." He'll tell the Keepers and figure out what the plan is. His partners were eager to follow his direction. Sebastian looped an arm around his waist and held an arm across his shoulders, his warmth soaking into Henry’s aching body, grip tight and protective on his hip. It also blessedly took a significant amount of weight off his leg. Ominis remained in front of them, wand raised to lead them through the halls undisturbed.
With every step up the stairs, Henry almost wanted to ask for a break. His leg often bumped into something, and exhaustion burned through the corners of his mind. He gasped when they took a considerable step up to the hall where Professor Fig's classroom was. Sebastian murmured an apology as they continued. Sebastian was tall, but not taller than Henry. He worried his partner might stagger and bring them both down, but Sebastian remained steady.
Ominis had them pause only once, saying he detected a magical aura nearby. A prefect passed by the hall and walked down a stairwell on the other side before Ominis gestured for them to continue onward.
Once in the classroom, Henry groaned as Ominis held the door for them, and Sebastian tugged him through. There were lit candles about the place, and Henry could see the light from the office door. Almost-relief ran cold through his body, like balm on a burn. Ominis seemed displeased that they weren't going to the hospital wing, but he remained by their side.
The relief Henry felt was doused when Ominis spoke confidently and warily, "I can feel two magical auras in the office. Mature. Professor Fig is not alone." Henry shook his head, feeling its weight on his shoulders and weak neck.
"It doesn't matter," he gasped, the stress of the consistent pain in his leg causing sweat to drip down his nose. "Just get Professor Fig." Sebastian tightened his hold on Henry, leading him through the classroom as Ominis nodded evenly and made his way to Fig's office in front of them. "Sebastian set me down," Henry spoke. "I cannot stay standing."
"I cannot have you falling asleep," Sebastian replied sternly.
"Please," Henry appealed, voice a mere whisper. His knees felt knobbly. "I'm going to fall."
"Then fall," Sebastian told him, "I will catch you."
Had the circumstances not been what they were, Henry might've felt warmth from the words that sounded so much like Sebastian that he could associate them with home. However, Henry used his strength to remain standing, already humiliated and terrified of what was to happen. He wouldn't be in this situation if he had just been a few paces to the right of the blast or faster in grabbing Lodgok. He would be with the Keepers discussing the next plan of action. Ranrok would not wait long; he would most likely be recuperating from Henry's most recent intervention at this very moment and-.
"Henry! Oh, my dear boy, what happened?" Fig was rushing down the stairs of his office, and Henry only caught a shadow of another man in the doorway before thin, cold hands were pressed to his cheeks. He slumped slightly in the hold, leaning more against Sebastian than ever.
"Ranrok is coming, sir," he uttered, rushing to get it all out. "He's found the final journal. He will know of the final repository. We need to hurry." Fig was shaking his head, and confusion bled into Henry's mind.
"That doesn't matter right now, dear boy. You look near death." I've always been near Death, Henry wanted to say. They haunt my shoulders and leach my soul. We are not Death; we are not his champion.
Instead, Henry protested.
"But sir-."
"That is quite enough," a rough voice reached Henry's ears, and his weary eyes drove over to the man pushing his way past Fig. Professor Sharp. "How did this happen? Are there any other injuries? Why are you not in the hospital wing?"
"We are running," Henry sucked in a heavy breath through grit teeth, "out of time." Professor Sharp glanced at Sebastian before Henry drew his attention again. His body was beginning to run warm and cold. "Ranrok tried to kill me. He knows where the last repository of magic is to become terribly powerful. He already killed-," Henry felt a wave of queasiness rush through his body. He continued, tense, "-killed a goblin friend of mine, and he is on his way to kill us all if we don't get to the repository."
"We have time, Henry," Professor Fig uselessly tried to tell him, "it will take some time to gather all he needs."
"And you won't be going anywhere," Sharp commented as he inspected the wooden piece in Henry's calf from where he was crouched.
"You're not listening to me!" Henry croaked, anger in his bones that sparked and died quickly. Another wave of exhaustion passed over him, and he closed his eyes, trying to breathe. The pain was thudding in his limp leg and old aftershocks began to awaken in his shoulder. He felt it creak in his collarbones. Henry understood how frustrating this must be for them, as Henry felt about as disconsolate as he probably seemed, but he didn't care.
We are about to fall unconscious.
Couldn't they see that he was the least of their priorities?
Couldn't they understand that his aches were so low on the list of what needed to be done?
Despite the way Sebastian's underwater words faintly reached his ears and he jostled Henry, exhaustion gave way to restless darkness.
❈✢❈
Flashes of light touched his eyelids, and a stillness breached his consciousness. He was floating as his glazed eyes opened to peer up at a tall ceiling.
Voices whispered urgency in his ears, and hands grasped his. He only really felt concerned when an arm braced across his chest and hips. He was laid back on a bed, and a worried tone reached his ears. Why is he here? There was no time. His mind was active but his body wasn’t working with him. Ranrok-.
"-awake!"
"-spell-."
A sudden and all-consuming pain tore at his leg just as something blanketed his consciousness, forcing it to sleep.
❈✢❈
A hand threaded through his hair, pushing the long strands out of his face. Fingers raked across his scalp and followed down. Grimey and oily hair. His body ached with sweat and overuse. He felt his own pulse beat in his wrists and legs, an ache that banded across his chest. He could not muster up the strength to feel bad for whoever was bringing this comfort. For it felt too good. Through the aches and pains, he recognized the tender affection in the slow draw of a hand across his head and it anchored him.
Mama? His mind called. She had done this when he was sick. But Henry was not ill. Was he? We… are not.
The thought that he can’t go on pervaded his common sense and yet, maybe he should just lie here. Things were quiet and- no, no he needed to get up. They needed to continue on. They had a mission, a task to complete in a long list of other tasks. There is danger-.
And yet there was a sharp scent of herbs and medicine, filling his nose and covering his senses. Rough blankets under his body and yet undoubtedly clean clothes across his skin. His sweater and button-up did not stick to his chest, for his fingers were also free of the grime under the nails and the caked blood that once clung to them. He was clean. A distant sound of the rings on a curtain striking across a bar as it is pulled aside, a murmur of voices from that same direction. Some groaning further ahead. A patch on his arm and chest was warm - sunlight.
Fingers drew patterns on his left hand. Swirls and a searching feeling echoed in the corners of his mind. Voices murmured above him, and the fingers withdrew from his head. Another gentle force began to shift through his mind and body, weakly pulsing in his chest and through his wrists and fingers.
Get up, a venomous voice curled along his ears, disrupting the force before it returned. No, child, lay.
When Henry opened his eyes, he dreaded to realize that he was in the hospital wing. His body was slow to respond to his test of control, fingers twitching and legs moving slightly as he pulled at the muscles. He didn’t have time for the slow uptake. Ranrok would be gathering what power he had to hunt down the last repository, Henry knew this with dread-filled certainty. He jolted upwards with a startling breath as the previous day (at least he hoped) came back to him. His calf ached something fierce, and he found it wrapped in odd-smelling bandages. Useless, stupid leg, he thought bitterly. As he tried to shift it, the leg weaky bent, but did as he commanded. The weakness was infuriating, despite the small movements.
"Henry!" His eyes roved to the side and found Sebastian sitting near his pillow on the hospital bed.
"Sebastian, lower your voice," Ominis hissed from his left. Henry's eyes drew over to his other partner as Ominis' eyes landed on his face, his hand was the one keeping Henry’s in place, fingers interlaced and sweaty. A kind gesture, but barely registered in the mounting anxiety. "Are you in any pain?" Pain- of course he was in pain. But pain was easy, so, so easy compared to the fear that gripped his mind like vice. The sooner this was over with the better. So, Henry shook his leg slightly for show and found a dull throb in it.
"No - what day is it?"
"You've been asleep since last night," Sebastian told him before continuing reproachfully. "You weren't supposed to wake up so soon." Henry blinked and shook his head.
"We are running out of time," he told them, working his aching muscles to his command. "Where is Professor Fig?"
"He said he had something to take care of," Sebastian told him. That's good, Henry thought. I hoped he'd gone to the Keepers. "As for Professor Sharp..."
"He will be demanding answers and not taking 'no' for one." Ah, there was Professor Sharp. Henry wondered why he felt such a stalking presence nearby.
"Can you demand answers and take not 'no' for them later?" Henry pressed, already beginning to work his muscles into submission so he could prepare for the danger that would soon be upon them all. Ominis grabbed his hand once more, ceasing his movements. Henry allowed it.
"Funny; you must be fine if you can make such jokes," Sharp replied, standing at the foot of Henry's bed in what was, in fact, the hospital wing. "Would you like to start with 'yes' or 'no' questions, or would you be so kind as to answer the long-ended ones?" Test jokes, how terribly in-character.
"I'll start when we're all safe," Henry bit back, "I mean it when I say we have little time. If you care about this school whatsoever, Professor, then you'll hear me when I say that I will answer all of your questions if we get out of this alive." Truly, Henry wasn't trying to cause turmoil, but he strongly felt as though he wasn't being taken seriously enough. Henry's shoulders bunched up when Sharp's expression didn't break, "Please, Professor, I-."
"I believe you, Henry," Sharp said, lingering in response. Henry persisted in the staredown with his Professor, willing the man to put aside protocol or rules or whatever it was that was causing him to pause. Eventually, Sharp's eye twitched, and he sighed, gesturing to Henry's bundled calf. "That injury will take two days to heal fully," bless magic, truly, it was wondrous. "Do you really think you are in any state to do strenuous action?" He worries.
"Yes," Henry replied simply, but figures a compromise might work better. "If you go with me to continue my undertakings and I explain on the way, will you make this easier?"
"Will I make this easier, he says," Sharp muttered. Ominis snorted.
"Respectfully, welcome to my life, Professor."
"Oh, don't think I won't have a questioning in line for you two as well, Mr.Gaunt, Mr.Sallow." Sebastian winced while Ominis shrugged, unfazed. Sharp turned to Henry. "You mentioned portraits under the school." When had he mentioned that? Henry didn't recall doing such a thing. "And a repository of magic, dangerous magic that Ranrok is hunting for. How do you think this school is in any danger with the protections it has, Mr.DeWitt?"
"He will get through," Henry replied quietly. "He will. If I can't get down there to hold the repository closed, we will all die."
"Yes, Fig mentioned something about... a certain type of magic," Sharp relented, "and I find that you will be better in this bed while you heal from your impaling, in case you've forgotten about that small detail." Henry huffed in whatever amusement he could muster. "But..." Sharp groaned slightly, tilting back away from them like their collective stupidity was infectious, "If I allow this, you will remain close. Do you understand me, Mr.DeWitt?"
Henry steeled himself, some of the relief from getting past this obstacle bleeding away when he realized his limited mobility.
Persist, child.
"Crystal, sir, you won't regret this, trust me. Sebastian, please help me up."