Privilege
The bone was sticking out of Cho's arm and has been for five hours now.
The field healer said she would not die of the break for as long as the bleeding stopped. So he stopped the bleeding. Immediately after, he shooed her away and turned his attention to those who would die if they were left alone a minute longer. He left the bone.
(Cho tripped over a man whose ribs nailed his corpse to the floor. No one could move him. There were too many other people dying they said.)
Instead, she made a space for herself among the dead and marked the hours by the rounds of bodies flying out in makeshift stretchers. When it's one in Hogwarts robes, she tried to guess - a game to keep herself sane, she told herself. A shoe, a watch, a butterfly clip. It was for the most butchered ones that she did her best.
And when there were no more figures whose journey out she could longingly follow, she stared at the bone instead. Flicked off the pieces of flesh that marred the delicate whiteness. The healer said she would not die of this. Cho wondered if he would have recognized her through the bone should it be her face that was mangled beyond belief.
Cedric died whole. How odd to meet with profound relief such a thought now.