"Someone, please help us," Miriam begged, her voice slowly growing hoarse, "she's been hurt badly!"
Dumbledore hurried over, kneeling down to look at the girl who was still bleeding profusely from her neck. Miriam and Marcella slowly moved back, giving Dumbledore ample space to help Sophie. Pulling out his wand from inside his robe pocket, he ran it down the length of Sophie's body, muttering something that didn't sound like English. A wave of blue smoke trailed over Sophie before Dumbledore waved it away with his wand. He gently laid a finger aside her neck, checking for a pulse. Closing his eyes, he placed the tip of his wand on her throat as a bright light began to emanate from his wand. Miriam watched in silence, praying that Dumbledore could save her friend. It tore her up to think that all the time she'd spent helping in the infirmary couldn't help her now.
Dumbledore checked for Sophie’s pulse again to no avail. Miriam could feel her heart pounding loudly in her chest; she didn't like that this was taking such a long time. Gathering her courage, she tentatively asked, almost afraid of hearing the answer, "Is - is she going to be okay?" Silver wisps of smoke brushed by her from the tip of Dumbledore's wand. He looked up at Miriam, his eyes closing as he lowered his head. His silence was all the confirmation she needed to know that her friend was dead. Behind her, Marcella let out a loud wail; but Miriam remained quiet, still stunned. It could not have been true; she pleaded and begged to whoever could hear her thoughts that her friend was not really dead. Around her, the sounds of Marcella's weeps and Dumbledore saying they should be leaving echoes distantly in her ears.
With relative ease, Dumbledore gently picked up Sophie off the ground and turned to face the others. "Let us head back now; I'm afraid I have a very painful and lengthy letter to write to her family."
~*~
Miriam sat inside Dumbledore's office with Marcella right next to her. Dumbledore was asking them to relive the events that transpired the moment that Miriam had stepped foot inside the hidden door. It was not something she wanted to talk about, now or ever, but Dumbledore assured her that any info she could provide could help the situation in some way. And such, for the next hour, Miriam was forced to relive the last moments of her friend's life, talking about how Tom was performing some weird ritual over a heavy, golden locket, and how he had slit her friend's throat. At the mention of it, tears began to fall down Marcella's face again, but Miriam did not cry. She couldn't cry, no matter how much she wanted to let the emotions inside her out. Instead, she sat there, emotionless, as Dumbledore looked upon them with a sorrowful glare.
Sophie's body was lying somewhere in a vacant classroom, a hefty charm placed around it so no one could find her until the morning when she would be moved.
Dumbledore stood up from his desk and motioned for the two girls to do the same. "It has been an emotionally draining day," he said somberly. "You two should try to get some rest now."
But being inside her little room in Hogsmeade didn't seem like such a good idea to Miriam. She flopped around in bed, got up and paced around the room, and when she felt like it, kicked everything in sight. The next room over, she could hear Marcella weeping again. Resting was the last thing Miriam wanted to do right now; the only thing she wanted was to cut Tom's heart out.
It was very late into the night when Miriam finally wore herself out and fell asleep. But she didn't fall into a restful sleep: Instead she tossed and turned all night long, dreaming of her friend's horrific death.
~*~
The sun came blaring into her room waking her up. For a few peaceful seconds, Miriam completely forgot about the horrible events of the night before. The peace of temporary forgetfulness soon faded as the memories came flooding back to her. With a heavy pit in her stomach, she lay in bed, not wanting to ever leave this spot. Before she knew it, she was fast asleep again, the nightmares coursing through her brain once more.
When she awoke again, it was nighttime. Miriam groaned as she sat up and looked out onto her cold, darkened room. Her head was pounding, and she shivered slightly from the cold. But instead of getting up, she wrapped herself in her blankets and rested her head on her pillows. Looking up at the ceiling, for the first time, Miriam could feel her cheeks damped as the tears stated falling heavily from her eyes. The realization that her friend was dead had finally started sinking in.