Harry Potter

Ellin hurried to the living room, taking the steps two at a time, and on the next sharp turn between the third and fourth floors, she twisted her ankle. A sharp flash of pain—and the world went dark for a moment. Ellin screamed, grabbed the railing, and collapsed onto the stone slabs, hitting her elbow painfully. Tears sprang to her eyes—not so much from fear, but from humiliating helplessness. Her ankle throbbed as if a red-hot nail had been driven into it. I wondered if anyone had witnessed this disgrace?

She heard footsteps before she saw who was coming. They were quick, light, and not at all teacher-like—one of the students.

“Hey!” the voice was familiar, alarmed. “Ellen? Are you okay?”

Harry emerged from around the corner, his bag slung over his shoulder and his hair tousled from a light jog. He paused for a second, taking in the scene: the hunched figure on the steps, the pale face, the leg twisted at an unnatural angle. Then, without another word, he rushed toward her.

"I twisted it," Ellin managed to say, squeezing her eyes shut in pain. "It seems stupid."

"It's stupid, you have to be careful, but it happens to everyone," Harry replied, squatting down next to her, and there was a deliberate lightness in his voice, intended to defuse the situation. "Let me have a look."

Carefully, barely touching, he pulled back the edge of her robe. Her ankle was already beginning to swell, the skin turning an unpleasant blue. Harry winced.

— Can you walk?

Ellin tried to stand up, leaning on the railing, but immediately gasped and collapsed back down. Her leg responded with such a sharp pain that black spots swam before her vision.

"Okay," Harry said, and there wasn't a shadow of doubt in his voice. "Then let's do it this way. I'll help you to the common room, and then we'll either ask Madam Pomfrey, or I'll run and get her myself. Okay? Hold on to me."

He stood up, slung both his bags over his shoulder, hers and his, and extended his hand. Ellin hesitated. She suddenly felt awkward: he was practically the star of the school, the boy who had survived, the guy who had enough problems without her, and here she was, on the steps, like a helpless kitten.

Ellin hurried to the living room, taking the steps two at a time, and on the next sharp turn between the third and fourth floors, she twisted her ankle. A sharp flash of pain—and the world went dark for a moment. Ellin screamed, grabbed the railing, and collapsed onto the stone slabs, hitting her elbow painfully. Tears sprang to her eyes—not so much from fear, but from humiliating helplessness. Her ankle throbbed as if a red-hot nail had been driven into it. I wondered if anyone had witnessed this disgrace?

She heard footsteps before she saw who was coming. They were quick, light, and not at all teacher-like—one of the students.

“Hey!” the voice was familiar, alarmed. “Ellen? Are you okay?”

Harry emerged from around the corner, his bag slung over his shoulder and his hair tousled from a light jog. He paused for a second, taking in the scene: the hunched figure on the steps, the pale face, the leg twisted at an unnatural angle. Then, without another word, he rushed toward her.

"I twisted it," Ellin managed to say, squeezing her eyes shut in pain. "It seems stupid."

"It's stupid, you have to be careful, but it happens to everyone," Harry replied, squatting down next to her, and there was a deliberate lightness in his voice, intended to defuse the situation. "Let me have a look."

Carefully, barely touching, he pulled back the edge of her robe. Her ankle was already beginning to swell, the skin turning an unpleasant blue. Harry winced.

— Can you walk?

Ellin tried to stand up, leaning on the railing, but immediately gasped and collapsed back down. Her leg responded with such a sharp pain that black spots swam before her vision.

"Okay," Harry said, and there wasn't a shadow of doubt in his voice. "Then let's do it this way. I'll help you to the common room, and then we'll either ask Madam Pomfrey, or I'll run and get her myself. Okay? Hold on to me."

He stood up, slung both his bags over his shoulder, hers and his, and extended his hand. Ellin hesitated. She suddenly felt awkward: he was practically the star of the school, the boy who had survived, the guy who had enough problems without her, and here she was, on the steps, like a helpless kitten.