Chapter 6 - Tears of Recovery
How is he, Poppy? a slurred voice said. It echoed in Harry's head, which felt like wet cotton wool had been stuffed into every spare space. Another voice answered the first, sounding just as faint and distant.
Physically, okay, it said, very deeply. Harry groaned; the voices made his head ache. Something was placed over his forehead, brushing back his hair.
someone droned. Harry groaned again. He wanted to sleep, because he felt so tired and weak, but the voice kept calling his name. With much effort, Harry opened his eyes very slightly. With a grunt he slammed them shut against the bright, stinging light. Can you hear me Harry? the voice asked. Harry made what he hoped was an affirmative noise, because he didn't feel up to speaking.
Headmaster, I really think he should rest first, said the second voice. Harry silently agreed. He longed to go back to the dreamless sleep he had woken from, the kind that had escaped him for so long. With a small sigh the first voice agreed and moved away. The thing on his head, which Harry slowly realised was a hand, cupped his face. You tell us when you feel better, okay Potter? the voice said. Harry guessed it was Madam Pomfrey, but his hearing was not improving so the words were still slurred and distorted. He made the affirmative noise again, and fell back into sleep.
*
Harry slept on and off for a week, never once opening his eyes. His eyelids felt heavy and he knew he needed the rest he was getting. He had several visitors over the week, the most common being Ron, Hermione and Professor Dumbledore. Madam Pomfrey tended to him day and night, and gradually Harry became more aware of reality. His hearing cleared up, and on the morning of his seventh conscious day in the Hospital Wing he dared to open his eyes. The light stung at first, but Harry ignored it, reaching over to pull on his glasses. The ward came into painful focus, and Harry squinted to relieve the burning sensation. Madam Pomfrey entered from her office, saw him, and immediately dashed back the way she had come. When she returned, Dumbledore was following her. Harry had never seen either of them look so anxious.
How are you feeling, Harry? Dumbledore asked as Madam Pomfrey checked him over. Harry watched Madam Pomfrey work, rather than looking at Dumbledore, who had his piercing stare on him.
he answered finally.
Look up Harry, Madam Pomfrey ordered, and he did so as she checked his eyes. After another five minutes, she was seemingly satisfied with his health and bustled off to write her report, leaving Harry and Dumbledore alone in a tense silence.
It was a curse, Harry finally said, briefly meeting Dumbledore's eyes before staring back at the covers. Dumbledore sat himself on the bed, his hands resting in his lap. It reminded Harry of his first year, when he had saved the Philosopher's Stone from Voldemort, but things were much more serious now. He remembered, as if it had been a dream, all that he had felt since the Third Task, all the misery and guilt that had broken him, turning him into a suicidal mess.
What curse? Dumbledore asked, breaking into Harry's trance like thoughts. Harry sighed regretfully.
I don't know, he answered, and then elaborated in an apologetic tone, After the Tournament, they used so many curses, I thought I'd dodged them all but one must have hit me. Dumbledore was silent for a moment.
Can you explain how you know it was a curse? he said. Harry blinked. Didn't he believe him?
When I-I jumped, I felt peaceful, like I was doing something right finally, and it was like I'd just woken from a nightmare. Something broke, and I realised that I wasn't meant to feel so bad, he said. Dumbledore nodded, recognition and understanding lighting his eyes and, surprising Harry, he smiled. It was still tinged with worry, but Harry had never seen anything so relieving as the smile Dumbledore bestowed upon him.
You had us all terrified, he admitted. Harry could have sworn he saw tears in Dumbledore's blue eyes, but he didn't have the chance to make a comment as Ron and Hermione burst in, looking flushed as if they had just ran all the way from the Gryffindor tower.
Hermione cried, throwing her arms around him and promptly bursting into tears. Without thinking, Ron joined her, though with far quieter sobs. In the face of their obvious distress, Harry hugged them both and felt his own sobs force themselves from him, and for once he didn't try to stop them.
Five minutes later, the tangle of arms and legs on the hospital bed began to separate into three individuals, all looking tired, with tear-streaked faces, but no less glad.
Harry said, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Dumbledore was deep in conversation with Madam Pomfrey, What have you guys been doing without me?
*