"Eliana!"
Harry shot upright in his hospital bed, nearly knocking the glasses off Dumbledore's face as he leaned over him.
"Harry, you seem to be recovering nicely."
Dumbledore did not mind at all. He spoke with a warm smile.
Harry stared at him blankly, then jolted to his senses. "Sir, Quirrell—Voldemort—they were trying to steal the Sorcerer's Stone! He went after Eliana!"
"Don't worry. The Sorcerer's Stone and Eliana are both fine. Little Ellie woke up before you did."
Dumbledore reassured him. "Look, she's right beside you."
"Eliana!" Harry followed his gaze. Sure enough, someone lay in the next bed. Familiar black hair spread like silk across the white sheets, and a pair of beautiful, jewel-like eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling.
"Don't call me Eliana. Ellie's dead."
Eliana pulled her gaze away from the ceiling, yanked the covers over her head, and left them with a round lump of blanket. Even the strands of hair peeking out seemed to radiate utter despair.
"Miss Ellie may need a little rest. Perhaps she hasn't recovered from that fierce battle yet."
Dumbledore winked at Harry.
"What happened afterward? I saw Voldemort flying toward Ellie—" Harry could barely get the words out.
"Ellie is certainly a brave and capable young lady."
Dumbledore smiled. Harry saw the bundle of blankets beside him shift. A tiny gap opened at the bottom, revealing a pair of bright black eyes.
The owner of those eyes clearly realized she had been spotted. She pressed the blanket down at once, sealing the gap.
Harry looked at Dumbledore. The wise, perceptive old man seemed not to notice the little movement and continued praising her:
"What a splendid, heroic battle it was. I was fortunate enough to catch the end and witness Miss Ellie in action. To face such a powerful,