Harold Maximian Snape narrowed his eyes as he dove for the Snitch.
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Harold James Potter narrowed his eyes as he dove for the Snitch.
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As Snape's fingers closed around the tiny golden ball, he collided with the Gryffindor Seeker and everything went black.
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As Potter's fingers closed around the tiny golden ball, he collided with the Slytherin Seeker and everything went black.
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I woke up, but didn't open my eyes. It was a little game I played with myself. Try to see if I could deduce where I was without opening my eyes. I sniffed. Clean. Not the old piss smell of the dungeons. Or the wet stone smell of the dorm. Didn't smell like the outdoors. I thought back. I couldn't remember falling asleep so I must've been knocked out. Ah! Now I remember. A Quidditch accident. I ran into the Gryffindor Seeker. Bloody idiot can't fly. I hope I got the Snitch at least. How embarrassing if I got myself knocked out and didn't even win the game.
Well the fact that I was 'injured' meant I was in the Hospital Wing. That is the what 3rd time this year? Madam Pomfrey bustled, yes bustled, over to me and forced a potion down my throat. When I first heard the definition for the verb 'to bustle' I thought that in no way it could describe a human. Well, I was wrong. Pomfrey bustles. All the time.
The next thought to flow through my wandering mind was the whereabouts of my father. He had always been there when I had gotten hurt before, sitting by my bed, holding my hand, as much as it embarrassed me. Yes, I, Harold Maximian Snape, the Boy-Who-Lived, am a teenage boy. As much as I try to pass myself off as being so intelligent and emotionless when dealing with all but my closest friends (and enemies), I do still occasionally feel normal emotions. The trick is not to let them show. Before I could ponder the absence of my father for too long, the effects of the sleeping potion, for that is what it was, took hold and I became dead to the world.
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I slowly drifted into consciousness. It was like a television station that I was trying to focus. Things came and went, but one thing stayed. A constant pressure in my hand. I finally managed to get the antenna pointed in the right direction and realized where I was. The Hospital Wing. What had happened? I did not remember then, but Hermione and Ron explained to me later. Quidditch accident. I looked at the person holding my hand. Bloody hell! Screamed my mind and throat at the same time.
"Harold Maximian Snape," admonished Professor Snape. "What have we discussed regarding your foul language?" I stared blankly at him. What did he call me? We had a discussion that was not a fight? My confusion must have shown on my face.
"Are you alright Harry?" Asked the greasy-haired git. Except his hair wasn't so greasy. And he didn't look like a git. He looked worried.
"Perhaps you wish to rest more?" He asked. I nodded, as best I could. I hurt all over. Maybe he sensed that and took pity on me. Or maybe he truly cared, I know now that the second reason is the truth, but anyway he gave me a potion that eased the pain and left without another word to me. I did hear him pause outside the door.
"Where do you think you three are going?" He inquired of several someones in the hallway. An unfamiliar voice replied.
"We wanted to visit Harry, Professor." Silence reigned for a moment and I could imagine Snape glaring at the three, they must be, students in the hallway.
"Alright then Blaise," he replied in a tone that would have been kind had it not been Snape. And since when did he call students by their first names? And who the hell is Blaise? These thoughts flashed through my brain so quickly they almost didn't register. Then I heard a very familiar voice.
"Thank you, sir," replied Hermione and I rejoiced. Where there was Hermione, there was Ron, and I would finally get some answers.
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A/N Please r&r I've started Ch2 but don't really know where this story is going. I'm open to any suggestions. Please criticize constructively.