Harry woke up in his room, on the floor. He was covered in sweat. He felt like a prune. Frognal was sleeping peacefully. Harry wondered if it was all a terrible, terrible dream. He could not stop crying. He had to strain his robe of tears so that he could drink it and replenish his fluid levels so that he could continue to cry. A genius idea, but it would never be noticed.
Frognal may have looked like he was dreaming, but that would have been impossible. He just had the occasional reflexive nose twitch in his sleep. He made no sound. Unfortunately, he made a lot of smells.
He woke up at some point and found the bucket to urinate in. He had to walk for quite a while to find it. Harry had thought this was because it was magic. He failed to understand that a mop and bucket are moved by cleaners throughout each day and that magic had nothing to do with the spotless shine of the corridor floors. Free was very proud of his work. Fred did not see Harry because he was still looking for Vodka.
"Frognal, I think I am out of tears now. Should we look for the jar?" Harry asked, eyes dry and red like they may bleed at any moment. He looked terrifying, but perhaps that was how he had always looked. Unpleasant.
"Yes." Frognal answered as he got up and started walking out of the doorway and into a wall.
They walked around for a while and decided that the kitchens would be a good place to look. Harry had suggested this because Ghosty said that jars often contain food and the kitchen is where food is made. Ghosty sighed when Harry told this to Frognal with such confidence despite him saying "floob" instead of "food". Harry was not good at repeating sentences that were longer than about four words.