The Hospital Wing

by Kokotheevilone

Nearly two decades later, Harry Potter returns to the hospital wing. He relives old memories, sees his old graffiti, and gets a surprise. I know the words are only in the hundreds, and the summary sucks, but give it a try

Disclaimer: I'm not British, I'm not blonde, and I'm not rich.

A/N: Yes, it seems like there aren't any words at all, but it's short and sweet.

Harry Potter walked into the Hogwarts hospital wing. It had been two decades since he had been in here. A girl came up to him.

"Do you need anything, sir?" She asked. He smiled at her.

"No, but I was wondering if you knew where Madam Pomfrey was?" He said.

She shook her head. "Aunt Poppy retired a while ago. She only comes here if there is someone severely injured. I'm her apprentice and niece, Meg."

"Anyway, I don't need anything. I was just looking around a bit." He said.

"Alright, then. I'll just be in the office if you need anything, sir." And with that, she left.

He looked around the room. It wasn't much different from when he was here. Then his gaze fell on the row of beds to the right, specifically the second last from the door. He smiled a bit. It was 'his' bed, the one she had always put him in. He wondered if the initials he scratched into the bedpost every time he got hurt or jinxed were still there.

He walked over and turned the pillow over. Yep. They were still there. He remembered when Madam Pomfrey had caught him carving 'HP' in his fourth year and scolded him for 'vandalizing school property over four years, four whole years!'. But she hadn't stopped him afterwards, just smiled an odd smile and walked away.

Then he caught a glint of something shiny in the corner of his eye. He turned and there it was. A small plaque, only about the size of an index card, reading 'Official Bed of Harry Potter'.

He smirked. She had finally done it, after all those years. Sometime in his sixth year, when he came in after scraping his elbow during Quidditch practice, she had threatened him with labeling the bed he sat on as 'his', since he used it so much anyway.

He fixed the pillow and walked slowly over to the office. He knocked on the door three times, a short staccato, and waited for her to open it. Her face peeked out from inside.

"Do you need anything, sir?"

"No, I was just wanting to tell you I'm leaving." He said.

"Oh." She said.

As he turned and started to walk away, she spoke again.

"Sir, if you don't mind, what's your name?"

He smiled softly, calling over his shoulder as he walked.

"It's Potter. Harry Potter."

Well, I'm done.