Harry did not wake again until afternoon, and then slowly, blinking heavily through gummy lids. It took long minutes for him to remember where he was: the school Infirmary. Again. After fumbling a moment for his glasses, he leaned back and stared at the ceiling far above him. The white ceiling had numerous patterns in it, whirls and dots and cones in the plaster or stone or whatever it was made of, and he traced some of these with his gaze as he tried to remember what had happened the night before.
The had a clear picture in his mind of the corridor where he'd met the Baron, and then the odd conversation with the ghost, but he felt - like he had somewhat last night - like he'd been missing some parts of it, as if the Bloody Baron was responding to things Harry hadn't said. And he remembered the aching, tired feeling - still present, even after Madam Pomfrey's healing and potions - after the Baron was gone, and the long trek back to the Slytherin common room. He could not remember, at all, how he'd come to have the chest wound and lose all that blood.
And Snape . . . he could have sworn, for a split second while they'd been talking in his office, before Harry had fainted - and wasn't that going to be a joy to live down! - that he'd seen concern in the man's eyes. Harry knew better than to think adults - any adults - could ever be concerned for a burdensome freak like himself, so he wondered what Snape was playing at. He also knew better than to display weakness, experience had taught him that showing any signs of a "soft white underbelly" was like begging to have it ripped open by dogs.
Madam Pomfrey appeared beside him, pulling him from his musings, and he gave her a small smile. She returned it, a little wryly, shaking her head as she handed him a potion in an opaque bottle. He took it from her but did not drink. "Mr. Potter. I would appreciate it if you could spend a good portion of the rest of the school year not under my care."
"'M'sorry," he told her and ducked his head, watching her through his fringe.
Her eyes narrowed. "I do not mean it like that, young man. I merely dislike seeing you requiring treatment again. I believe you have quite enough to be going on with, just getting used to magic and a new school, without throwing blood loss and shock into the mix. Now, drink that; it's to aid your body in replenishing your blood."
He tipped the potion back, shuddering at the metallic taste - almost like blood, except with an after burn.
She handed him another potion, this one orange, in a clear bottle. "This is for pain. It's not as strong as the ones I dosed you with last night, but if you need something more, you will let me know."
He wouldn't, but he nodded anyway. "Yes, ma'am."
Her eyes narrowed again, like she knew what he was thinking, but Harry just smiled innocently and poured the potion into his mouth. This one was nasty tasting, like phlegm and almost as thick, but he drank it all down. Once it hit his belly, a warm feeling spread through him, loosing the tight muscles in his shoulders, neck and back, and he sighed gratefully.
Madam Pomfrey watched him, nodded, and took back the empty bottles. "Please let me know if you need anything, Mr. Potter. It is what I am here for, after all."
"Yes, ma'am."
She sighed then shook her head. "You had some visitors earlier. A Mister Nott and Miss Bullstrode. They seemed to think they could fritter away the entirety of the afternoon at bedside. I sent them out, but I daresay they will return." She gestured to the bedside table, where several Get Well cards stood on end, along with a couple boxes of what looked like Chocolate Frogs and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "And you have some gifts from those who hope you're well enough to leave soon."
"Am I?"
"Not by a long shot. Tomorrow evening will be soon enough, if you are recovered sufficiently." Her gaze sharpened, and he could not help but be caught by it. "You did almost die, after all, Mr. Potter."
"I did?"
"Yes. If Professor Snape had not found you and administered treatment for your shock, it is unlikely we would be having this conversation. You should have come to me immediately. Did you not realize you had been injured?"
"No, ma'am. I was tired, but . . ." He shrugged. "Not until he had me take off my robe, and I could see the blood and all."
Madam Pomfrey nodded slightly, her gaze thoughtful. "Well, try and get some more rest," she said. "It will take at least today for your body to make up the rest of the blood you lost. We'll see how you're doing tomorrow."
"Yes, ma'am. Thank you."
She gave him a brief smile, and went back to her office. Harry reached for the box of Bertie's Beans and read the tag on top of it. "Get Well Soon, Harry. From Slytherin House." He knew that when normal people were sick or in hospital, they often got treats and cards and such from friends and family. When Dudley had his tonsils out, for instance, he'd gotten so many new toys and treats, he'd been swimming in them for weeks. But Harry had never been given anything like this before. Of course, he'd never gotten a real present at all before, until Hagrid gave him Hedwig. It made him feel . . . weird. Pleased? Embarrassed? He wasn't sure.
Instead of thinking any more about it, he opened the box and picked out a cream-colored bean. Mmm, coconut. His second one was pink and tasted of grapefruit; a little sour, but good. Maybe this was a batch of just good tasting ones. The next one he tried, though, a light green, was brussels sprout, and he almost spit it out. There went that theory.
He picked up one of the boxes of Chocolate Frogs next – as there were two – and the card said, "Hurry up and get out of there, Harry, 'cuz I miss your Charms. From, Millie."
Harry grinned. He liked Millicent; she had a good sense of humor and was awful protective of people – like him – who stood up for her in turn. He was looking forward to seeing her later, and Teddy, too. He got along real well with Teddy, though the skinny boy was sometimes hard to figure out. And the way he stood up for Harry, with Zabini, especially . . . well, it was the first time Harry had ever had anyone do that for him, too.
Harry nibbled on a frog – the card was of Dumbledore, who he already had three of – and looked at one of the free standing cards. One of them was from the Slytherin Quidditch team, and as far as he could tell, everyone who was currently on the team – Marcus Flint, Terrence Higgs, Adrian Pucey, Nathan Bole and Miles Bletchley – had signed it. Some of them – notably Higgs and Flint – had also jotted a bit about how Harry had better be up on his broom for practices this week, or else. Harry had to smile. Even vaguely threatening, the card was cool, with zooming snitches and bludgers all over it. And it gave Harry a feeling of belonging to something, which he had been wanting so badly when he first arrived here.
The second card was signed by all his year mates, including Draco and – even more surprisingly – Zabini. He wondered what they'd had to give him to get him to sign. A few possibilities occurred, and Harry snickered to himself while reaching for the second box of Chocolate Frogs. There was no tag or card on this one at all. Weird. He moved things around on the small table, in case it had fallen off, but there was no tag or anything like it to be found. Harry placed the box carefully to the side, a little leery of opening it, without knowing who it was from. Maybe Madam Pomfrey knew. He'd ask her later. It would be a shame to not eat the Frogs, just because someone had forgotten to sign the gift.
He considered the possibilities of who might have left the unsigned gift, and decided it was probably Teddy. He'd ask him later, if he and Millicent really came to see him.
He slept a little more, and late that afternoon, when he was nearly ready to scream with boredom, they did visit. Teddy had thoughtfully brought his book bag and the homework assignments he had for the weekend.
"Aww, you shouldn't have," Harry said.
Teddy snickered. "Well, if you'd rather stare at the ceiling some more instead . . ."
"No! No, it's okay. It's a lovely gesture, thanks." Harry grinned. "Although, Millie gave me candy." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Millicent blush.
"Prat. I don't give candy to whiners."
"Whiners!"
"Yeah, all whimpering and needing coddling and stuff." Teddy grinned. "I mean, why should a knife through the chest keep you in bed for the weekend, huh? It's not like you had a hangnail or something serious like that."
Harry frowned. "How do you know it was a knife through the chest? I don't even know what it was."
"Oh, you know," Teddy said with a vague wave. "That's the rumor. You did look pretty awful in the common room, from what I heard. Bled all over the place, according to one of the sixth years. Not that any of those wankers noticed until Snape hurried you out of there."
"Yeah, there were a couple people snogging in the corner. Didn't look like I made much of an impression."
"So what did happen?" Millicent asked. "Some of the older Snakes are saying you did something to the Bloody Baron. He hasn't been seen since yesterday."
"And Peeves is taking advantage of it, no end," Teddy added. "Supposedly the Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him. He's been pranking everyone, especially the Puffies. I think that's 'cause he can make them cry or something." Teddy shook his head as if that was about the saddest thing in the world.
Harry shrugged. "Well, I saw him, the Bloody Baron, and he said some stuff and flew through me, but I didn't do anything to him." He wasn't about to tell them about the time he'd lost or how he had no idea how he'd gotten all beat to crap and run through; he wasn't stupid.
"Ewww." Millicent wrinkled up her nose. "He flew through you? What did it feel like?"
"It was kinda weird. Cold, but . . ." He shook his head, not sure how to explain.
"Maybe he stabbed you."
"Don't be dense, Millie," Teddy said with a sneer. "Ghosts can't interact like that with corporeal beings. They have no ability to physically manifest."
At her blank look, Harry offered, "He couldn't have hit me with anything, 'cause he can't hold a weapon," and she nodded in understanding.
Teddy gave him a shrewd look. "And you have no idea what happened."
Harry sighed. "No . . . I think I got knocked out by something."
"Maybe the Baron gave you his wound!" Millicent said, "When he passed through you. I mean, everyone knows he's got a chest wound, too, like from a long knife or sword or something."
"Bullstrode," Teddy started testily, "Remember the part about ghosts being non-corporeal?"
"Yeah, but—"
"There's just no way. Besides, why would he do that to a Slytherin? He's our ghost."
"Well, why would anyone . . ." Millicent cut herself off and looked away.
"What?" Harry asked, but Millicent just shrugged. "What . . . Do you mean, why would anyone want to kill me? I dunno."
"Are you kidding me?" Teddy asked. "There's plenty of people who are probably hostile about your return to the Wizarding World, now, after what you did to You Know Who."
"Which I don't even remember, being I was only a year old. And he tried to kill me first."
"Hell, I know that. And there's not like to be anyone stupid enough in Slytherin to try to take you down, at least not at school. Their families would suffer, for one thing. Even Malfoy's not that dim."
"He doesn't like me, though."
"Yeah, well . . . he might've found out you made the Quidditch team, without even trying out for it." Teddy gave Millicent a pointed look.
The large girl flushed. "I didn't know it was supposed to be a secret! I thought it was great that one of us Firsties had made the team. No one as young as you has made it in a hundred years. I heard Snape had to get the rules bent for you, and everything." Harry frowned, not liking the idea of Snape doing that for him, and she sighed. "And Malfoy was being a jerk. Again. And going on about how he was guaranteed a spot, likely as Seeker, and so I told him off." She grimaced and hitched up one shoulder. "Sorry, Harry. He might have got a bit annoyed by the news."
Harry made himself smile. "Hey, it's okay, Millie, really. He was going to find out sooner or later anyway, right?"
"Yeah, I guess."
"So, it was a bit sooner. Maybe he'll even make the team anyway. We still need another Chaser, from what Flint said." Harry was almost hoping he would; it would take some of the pressure off him, for one thing.
"Oh, hey! Did you know your dad played Quidditch?"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, I saw a plaque in the trophy room. He played for Gryffindor, obviously, but I guess he was pretty good. They won a lot, then."
"You'll have to show me." Harry's interest was piqued; he knew so little about his parents that any tidbit of information was worth its weight in galleons. He licked his lips nervously, but made himself ask, "Was there a picture?"
Millie shook her head. "There's a couple team pictures from back that far, but not one with your father in it."
Harry swallowed his disappointment, but it felt like ground glass going down. The Dursleys had been so close mouthed about Lily and James Potter while he was growing up, except when they were telling him lies, like about how they'd died, that he knew next to nothing about them. He didn't even have any idea what they looked like, as the only photos in the Dursley home had been of his aunt and uncle and Dudley, so a picture of even just his father would have eased some of that empty ache he always carried with him. "Oh, well," he said lightly. "It'd be great to see the plaque and stuff anyway."
"Yeah, soon as you're up and around, I'll show you."
"Thanks, Millie." Harry rubbed a hand over his face, feeling suddenly exhausted, so of course Madam Pomfrey had to arrive at that moment and shoo his friends away.
"You can come back briefly, after dinner," she told them when Millicent asked. "But he needs rest more than anything."
"All right. Seeya, Harry," Millie said and waved as they headed for the door.
"Seeya. Thanks for coming by."
Teddy smirked. "See that you quit your whinging, and maybe I'll bring you a nice treat from dinner."
"Well, okay. Just 'cause you asked so nicely. Prat."
The two of them laughed and Harry closed his eyes when they were gone, thinking about what they'd said, about Peeves, and the Bloody Baron, and even Draco. Was the boy's hostility as simple as that Draco was jealous, or was it more sinister?
According to Snape, it was highly unlikely that any student could have Obliviated him – and the idea that someone had wiped his memories was enough to break him out in goosebumps again, just thinking about it – which left the teachers and staff. But who among them would do such a thing, and why? Was someone trying to get back at him for defeating Voldemort?
And why would they erase his memories and just not make sure to kill him completely?
After a while of his thoughts turning in circles, bringing him no closer to any answers, Harry pulled his book bag over and started working on his Potions essay, figuring the least he could do was try his best to stay out of Snape's bad graces. Not sure how successful he'd be after the nasty way Snape had treated him in class, he still had to try.
TBC . . .