Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated with it in any way.

The Chasers

The Bludger had been aimed at Whitney's shoulder, not at her head. At least, that's what Fred swore as she lay on the ground, looking up into his blurry, grinning face. She only groaned in response and reached one hand up to her eye to gingerly touch what would be a spectacular bruise in the morning.

Or sooner, she thought to herself, wincing at how sensitive it had already become.

"What... happened to my glasses?" she asked dully, squinting through her already-swollen eye, but remaining on the ground even despite the heavy rain that was pooling on her face and running into her eyes and nose. She was distinctly certain that she would hurl her dinner if she tried to get up, and she didn't think that would help her hammering headache.

"I've got them." She could hear Wood's voice somewhere beyond Fred's, but she couldn't see him through the rain and her own impaired vision. "But they're bullocksed," he said, and Whitney sighed in resignation.

"Nothing a quick spell can't fix," Katie said optimistically. from somewhere around Whitney's feet. "I'll do them," she volunteered, and Whitney faintly heard the tinkling down her her shattered glasses changing hands from Wood to Katie. "We should go inside, though," Katie said. "I'll take you to the Hospital Wing. Can you get up?" she asked.

Whitney had taken a breath to answer, but a shutter-click nearby preceded a brilliant flash of white light that felt like someone shoving an ice pick into her brain through her eye socket. Her eyes slammed shut and she turned over onto her side, but her vision was already filled with sparks of light and color.

"That was brilliant, Whitney!" she vaguely heard Colin shouting over the rain. "I got one of you just as the Bludger smacked you! It's going to look incredible when it's developed!"

Whitney pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, and Katie helped her the rest of the way to her feet. She couldn't see Colin clearly enough to glare at him, and honestly, she didn't have the heart. He was just so enthusiastic about the whole thing that she only managed a half-hearted, "Good night, Colin."

"All right," Wood said, sounding a little disappointed. "I suppose that's practice finished for tonight, then. Remember the new drills for next time, and don't forget to..."

Wood's voice faded into the rain storm as Whitney and Katie trudged back to the castle. Halfway there, Whitney was able to walk on her own, and actually felt a little silly for all the fuss. It wasn't the first time she'd been knocked off her broom, and it certainly wouldn't be the last, but lately Quidditch had become almost a chore. A rest, even a brief one where she'd been rained on, had been almost relaxing.

"Sorry about your face," Fred said, catching up to them; Whitney could hear the grin in his voice.

"Don't apologize, Fred," George said, coming up on the other side. "It's an improvement, really."

"I'll improve your face," Whitney grumbled at them with as much menace as she could muster. Apparently, it wasn't very much, because it only made them laugh harder.

"Come on, leave her alone," Katie insisted, shaking her head. "It's not her fault you're a crap aim."

Fred clutched his chest and pretended to be hurt. "A mortal wound!" he shouted. "Katie, I thought we were friends."

Whitney smiled. "Fred's not a crap aim," Whitney said. "I'm a crap athlete. I ducked into that Bludger."

George nodded sagely. "The old block-it-with-your-face tactic," he said. "Classic maneuver."

"Classic," Fred agreed, and Whitney laughed at them even though it made her temples throb. Even Katie smiled, losing some of her indignance at their joking about Whitney being injured.

"You're not crap," Katie told her. "You're just new. You'll get better."

Whitney shook her head, which, for a moment, made the world spin on a different axis; her next step was sideways and halting.

"No," Whitney disagreed as Katie helped her back on the path to the castle. "I'm rubbish. I'm good at flying," she admitted, "but all the rest of it—the catching, and dodging,and actual sporty stuff?" The dizziness was kinder this time when she shook her head without finishing.

"Rubbish," George agreed, finishing for her.

"Worse than rubbish," Fred continued, sounding serious.

"Basically, you fly like a girl."

"Oy!" Katie shouted, taking immediate offence. "I'll show you two, 'fly like a girl'!" she shouted, aiming a kick at George's backside.

While Katie chased the twins in a wide circle, Whitney continued on toward the castle, trusting that Katie would eventually catch her up. Whitney was practically blind without her glasses, but even she could make out the fuzzy shape of the castle and aim approximately for the door to the Entrance Hall. In fact, just as Whitney had reached the overlarge door, Katie—having satisfactorally wallopped the twins for their comment—arrived to help her open it.

"Here," Katie said, pressing Whitney's glasses into her hand. "Good as new."

"Thanks," Whitney said sheepishly, but her head felt as though it might be too big for the glasses to fit, so she slipped them into her pocket instead. She opened her mouth to ask Katie if she felt up for a Drying Charm, but her mouth snapped shut just as quickly.

Let me rip you...

Whitney made a choking sound and froze in place, a panicked look crossing her face.

Let me kill...

"Whitney?" Katie asked, sounding alarmed. "Whitney, are you... Are you all right?"

Whitney felt Katie's hands cup both of her cheeks and saw her face swim into view as the older girl checked out Whitney's pupils with a scrutinizing eye.

"Look, I think..." Katie said, "I think you've got a concussion or something. Are you dizzy? Are you nauseated? Do you feel tired?"

Whitney was trying hard to process Katie's rapid-fire line of questioning, but her entire mind was focused on the sound of the voice. It had been almost two months since she'd heard it in the common room with Dobby, and a combination of class and Quidditch had driven it completely out of her mind. The full memory of that night and the terror that had accompanied it struck her immediately.

Rip... Tear...

Whitney was paralyzed by fear for three whole seconds before adrenaline cut through the fog of her headache like a knife through a bobotuber. Realizing that the voice was growing faint, as though moving away from her, Whitney shook free of Katie and ran toward it despite all her better judgement.

"Hey!" Katie shouted after whitney, too stunned to react at first. Not sure what else to do, Katie took off after her.

"I'm not crazy," Whitney whispered to herself under her breath. "I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy."

Probably.

How likely was it that she would have the same hallucination twice, really? Sure, she'd been exhausted the first time and possibly concussed this time, but this... was too weird, right? She very much hoped so. The voice stopped, however, rather abruptly, and Whitney was left standing in the middle of an empty hall, looking around wildly for its source.

Katie caught up to her, panting and holding a stitch in her side. Worry and irritation blended together on her face, but confusion won out when Whitney suddenly spoke.

"What's below here?" she asked, staring at the floor. The voice had come from below her the last time she'd heard it. "What's underneath us?"

"Whitney," Katie said slowly, reaching out a hand to her. "Come on. You're... You hit your head really hard."

"What's on the floor below us?" Whitney demanded again, more urgently this time.

Katie sighed and looked around, finally conceding to the odd request. She pointed a little dismissively at the girls' bathroom nearby. "The plumbing's lined up so the toilets are all in the same place every floor," she said. "It's only Moaning Myrtle down there," she told her. "Whitney!"

This last was shouted at Whitney's retreating back, because Whitney had already turned and run toward the nearest hidden staircase down to the next floor. Her feet were uncertain on the stairs as some of her dizziness returned, but she made it down without incident and burst out from behind a well-maintained tapestry. It was here that she finally lost her footing, for the floor was slick with water. She slid sideways into a wall, and crumpled into a shallow puddle. Groaning, Whitney dragged herself to her feet, holding her head with one hand. She flinched when something touched her shoulder, but relaxed when she realized it was only Katie trying to help her.

"She's mucked everything up again," Katie said in a low tone. "Bloody menace."

For a moment, Whitney thought Katie was talking about her, and she wouldn't have blamed her, but when she looked up, she saw Katie looking distastefully at the water-logged corridor. She was talking about Myrtle's most recent tantrum. Whitney grumbled in agreement, for once glad that she had already been soaked from the rain before falling on the flooded floor.

Katie made a face, squinting down the hall at something Whitney couldn't see. "What's...?"

Her voice trailed off as she stepped forward to get a better view. Whitney followed, her sense of apprehension rising again. She wasn't sure she wanted to see what lay down the hall ahead of them, but she needed to know that she wasn't going insane.

A few paces ahead of Whitney, Katie stopped suddenly and gasped, covering her mouth with both hands. Panic lent Whitney the speed to step around Katie to see what had startled her friend.

"We have to go," Katie squeaked, reaching out to tug Whitney's robes urgently. "We have to get someone. We have to get someone now!"

Whitney couldn't hear Katie's pleas, though. She had frozen solid, staring at the wall across from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. There, hanging from her tail from the torch bracket, was a deathly-still Mrs. Norris. Her pupils shook as she looked from the cat to the Katie, but Katie wasn't looking back at her; she was staring past her with a terrified expression.

"We have to get out of here," she said again, her voice cracking.

Whitney turned slowly to look at the wall behind her and realized why Katie was so frightened. Whitney barely had a moment to read the bloody warning on the wall before her adrenaline finally gave out, her brain choosing unconsciousness over reality. The floor tilted out from under her, and the world went dark.