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“Harry!”
He turned, halfway up the hill, and glanced back over his shoulder, allowing Hermione to catch up.
“Please don’t go,” she pleaded, her hands pressed flat to her thighs as she tried to catch her breath.
Harry stared at her for a long moment. There were plenty of reasons not to go, all of them justifiable. But the only one that mattered to him was back in the castle, in the warm. They hadn’t asked him to stay.
“I’m going,” Harry finally replied, and lowered his broom from his shoulder. He mounted and kicked off into the frosty air, ignoring the desperate cries from Hermione below.
He had to go; there was nobody else who could.
Was there?