The next time he wakes, there's something in his throat and blocking his nose. His face tightens oddly, mostly his brows, and he realizes he's frowning. He breathes slowly through his nostrils and the thing moves. Growing alarmed, he takes another breath.

Hogwarts notices he's awake. She placates him and he learns the nurse here, the mediwitch, has been forced to revert to Muggle means to feed and hydrate him (he only knows what the term "Muggle" means because Salazar complained so often about them). His protective magic attacked any spells or charms she placed on him (his magic preened). She advises him not to remove the tube, even though it is uncomfortable. He will be sleeping again soon anyway. Besides, this is usually when she will change his bandages.

He grumbles but does as she wishes, excited at the prospect of seeing things that aren't magic.

A witch's aura gathers his attention. The majority of the color is deep red, splotched with purple so dark it is nearly black. The mediwitch, then. He wonders if he should get her attention, since he's awake. He chooses not to.

He still has the bandages around his head, covering his eyes, but he doesn't mind. He can live with being blind (hopefully, though, he won't have to). He uncurls himself from the ball he slept in, and gropes around the bedding he was placed on. His right arm hits a wire. He gasps, the thing in his throat jolting forward and he feels it in his nose, too, following the sudden movement. He understands this wire is the same thing snaking through his nostrils and down his throat, feeding and watering him. Carefully, he follows the tube, touching it lightly as he can, but most times he misses or connects too hard and pulls by accident.

Soon, his exploring hand meets a bag suspended in midair. He wonders how he is being sustained by water. Hogwarts tells him it's not all water, that the minerals he needs to survive are liquified. He still does not completely understand and he tells her to explain better. Patiently, she does. Apparently, there are ...things in the food he eats, and it gives him energy. That energy lets him do other things, like slither and produce poison. This bag contains all the things found in the food she was able to give him, and more, healthier things she couldn't reach from the forest. Interesting. He wants to find out more, but not even Hogwarts knows everything.

She suggests he focus on learning how to control his hands and arms before he tries walking. He considers it but disagrees. The sooner he learns to walk, the sooner he can explore.

However, the mediwitch notices he is awake. He hears her exclamation (and he is pleased his hearing is still as sharp as before), and she strides to his bed, speaking in a language he cannot comprehend. He tenses when he realizes she is coming directly to him, clenching his fists apprehensively. The woman reaches his bed space and his magic senses her extend a hand to him. It condenses angrily and the basilisk has to hold it back from burning her. She lightly touches his bandage, and he presses his lips together to keep from baring his teeth. Hogwarts insists she's to be trusted, and is going to remove the bandages, but won't if he misbehaves.

At this, he puts an effort in being still, his heart thrumming.

The woman finds the end of the bandages and begins to unwind it. It takes several long seconds, but soon, he can see the dark retreating, driven away by a brightness he must squint painfully at. When the coverings are gone, he is forced to close his eyes, grimacing, at the pain the world happily gives him. His magic, completely disregarding the witch, is swirling about him playfully in response to his nervousness. Hogwarts suddenly warns him that Dumbledore is coming, alerted by Poppy, the mediwitch. He wonders how she told the headmaster of his awakening so quickly.

The woman has grown silent, which he is thankful for. It takes a while, he doesn't know how long, but he manages to open his eyes. What he sees isn't much.

Everything is blurry, almost like there's a film of white covering the world. Poppy is speaking again, but he ignores her. Confused, he slowly brings a hand to his face (managing not to slap himself), trying to discern it from the otherwise white background. He can, but only when it is inches from his wounded eyes. He splays his fingers, pleased when he can differentiate the space between them.

Dark, powerful magic flickers at the corner of his vision, a much deeper black than what he could make out from beneath the cloth. It is also longer; tendrils reach as high as the ceiling, thin and twisting and some reach into the room he is in, even though the headmaster hasn't yet entered. He wonders if the boy is with him.

When Dumbledore enters the room, his magic is drawn to the ex-basilisk, but the his magic snaps at it, joy forgotten. Again, the man's magic understands and avoids him, but, like before, he knows it wants to garner all the intentions it can from him. Harry is with him, but he is obscured by the man's massive presence.

Immediately, Harry greets him. "Good evening. How are your eyes?"

The basilisk glances at the general direction of his voice, but the boy is hidden by white and twisting, dark magic. "They have been better."

"Can you see at least?"

My, the boy is more confident now. His brows free, they raise, imitating an expression Salazar would sometimes use. "Not very well. Everything is white."

Harry relays what he says to the mediwitch. When she responds, Harry translates. "She says she wants you to follow her finger."

Obediently, he lowers his hand. A shape looms darkly from the colorless void. He squints, trying to follow as it moves slowly back and forth. "Why would this help?"

"It does not," the boy hisses in reply. He backtracks. "Well, I mean, it determines how well your eyes are progressing, how much you can see and track."

The ex-basilisk makes an understanding sound. "And how well am I progressing?"

At this, the boy converses with the nurse.

During this, his eyes are becoming strained. There is a pressure behind them, so he brings his hands up to rub them. Poppy grabs them, and speaks harshly at him. The basilisk's magic boils at her insolence, and it wants to bite at her fingers, to poison them. With an effort, he holds it back, but he says, strangled, "Let go!" pulling urgently.

She releases him, as though she was burned, at his cry. He crawls backward, his back hitting the headboard of the bed, hard enough to hurt. He hopes he didn't harm her, does not want to be locked away again, but like hell he's going to apologize!

The humans talk amongst themselves tensely, while the basilisk calms his panicked magic. Hogwarts flows about him like cool water, helping to calm it as well. Sheepish but stubborn, his magic does not feel ashamed for trying to protect its container from harm.

"Madam Pomfrey says she is sorry," Harry hisses worriedly. "Are you injured?"

"No," the ex-basilisk replies. He tries to make his hiss as gentle and unaggressive as he can. "My magic-it thought I was under attack. Is she harmed?"

"No, simply surprised."

To ward away any questions-and change the subject-he inquires, "Why can I not rub my eyes?"

"Um, prof-" he catches himself and translates the question. "She says it will make your eyes worse."

The basilisk frowns, narrowing his eyes questioningly. "How?"

"Um, your eyes-they are still wounded. It has healed almost completely, but if you rub them, it may reopen the wounds. They might not heal properly."

"Hm."

He can feel sleep coming. Hogwarts does not need to aide it this time, and he is displeasured by that fact. "You have questions?" He inquires. "You'd best ask them; I am beginning to grow tired."

"Oh! Yes, um, are you planning to kill any more students?"

The basilisk closes his eyes, shifting to a more comfortable positon. "No. I was not myself then. And I have never wished to kill them." Although Godric and his pets-the traitors...

"What do you mean?"

"The white wizard, he was controlling me. I do not know how." He knew his responses were becoming terse, but sleep was coming fast and hard. He wanted to slip into it, but if he spoke, he couldn't. "You have no need to worry. Humans are too small for food anyway."

"White wizard? Do you mean Tom Riddle? Er, Lord Voldemort?"

Ah, that name he is familiar with. "Yes. He found the Chamber, which by all rights should have been impossible." Quietly, he murmurs to himself, "The charms the others put on it must have weakened." He could sense Harry's curiosity, so he elaborated. "The ...Founders trapped me. They forced me into the cave Salazar built. It was meant to be my home, but instead, became my prison." His head is dropping forward and his voice drifting. He is so tired.

The mediwitch is speaking now, and she sounds a bit angry. He doesn't know why.

Harry hisses something, but he's already asleep.

OJOJOJOJO

Phew. Sorry about how short it is, but I couldn't think of anything else to fill it with. Personally, I'm a bit disappointed by this chapter. The dialogue doesn't quite… hit the spot to me.

Oh, well. I hope you guys enjoyed it! Oh! And let me know if you see any mistakes. :D