"You've lost weight!" Draco's lips trembled, but he stubbornly kept his voice from breaking.
Goyle hadn't merely lost weight. His black hair had turned completely white, just as Professor Dumbledore had said. Vitality had been drained from him in great quantities, and his lifespan would certainly be shortened.
It was the kind of damage that reached the soul. Perhaps Goyle would have to ask Anton if there was anything that could be done. Dumbledore had no real answers when it came to this sort of thing.
Goyle couldn't see. Thick bandages covered his eye sockets, though even without them, he still wouldn't have been able to see anything. There were no eyeballs left in his sockets.
He gently touched his gaunt cheek and chuckled foolishly. "My grandpa was always skinny. He looked quite handsome. Maybe I've become handsome too."
"Idiot!" Draco said with a laugh, finally feeling the tension leave him.
He practically collapsed into the chair beside the hospital bed. He felt as if he were about to pass out, too weak to even stand.
The nurse who had come to change the bandages glanced at him, took a bar of chocolate from the tray in front of her, and set it on the table beside him. "Have some, too."
Then she pushed her trolley away with a wobble.
Professor Dumbledore watched the two friends finish their conversation with a smile before asking, "Child, what did you do?"
"I..."
Goyle shook his head, as though he had seen something, and a radiant smile spread across his face. It was utterly pure.
"I saved Dad and Mom!"
His voice was so certain.
"Anton was right. The Hall of Prophecy in the Department of Mysteries really is the place closest to the River of Fate!"
"I originally wanted to follow Mr.