You're a protagonist Harry

Chapter 30 – What resides below
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"I'm telling you, I know a curse when I see one, I've read all about them. You have to maintain eye contact and Snape wasn't blinking."

"Till you started him on fire," Ron chuckled, much to Hermione's embarrassment.

"You started Snape on fire? How did I miss that?" Harry laughed, then winced, gripping his arm.

"It wasn't on purpose," she insisted. "Not all of it. It was just supposed to be a little distraction."

"I don't know, he looked pretty distracted to me."

"Oh, stop your sniggering."

He didn't of course, and if Harry hadn't been in such pain, he probably would have joined him.

"Not that I'm complaining about our 'favorite' professor's accidental immolation."

"It WAS an accident!"

"However," Harry pressed on, "has anyone wondered why he was trying to kill me?"

"He's a git," was the obvious answer.

"I don't disagree," said Harry, "but being a git does not make him a murderer. He's been a git since I met him. Why try and kill me now?"

"Halloween!"

"Halloween?"

Ron nodded excitedly but his friends simply looked confused.

"Don't you remember his leg. You said it looked like something bit him. And what do we know is in the castle right now that has a lot of teeth? Three mouths worth."

"Fluffy! So, wait, you think he went to the third-floor corridor? Why?" said Hermione.

"He want's whatever it's guarding, obviously. I'll bet he even let the troll in as a distraction. He must not have been expecting Fluffy though. Surprised all he got was a bite on the leg."

"If you're right, I'm surprised he still has the leg," said Harry. "If you're right."

"You don't think I am?"

"I don't know. And don't pout at me like that, it's not going to change my mind."

"Yes, you're not cute enough for that," Hermione teased, which only made the ginger pout harder.

"Where is Snape now?" Harry asked.

"The hospital wing I'd imagine," said Hermione. "Where you should be," she added.

"My feet only move so fast thank you. Anyway, it's not getting any worse, and I think you'll agree we shouldn't be talking about this around the man who just tried to kill me."

"I wouldn't want to 'be' around a man that just tried to kill me," said Ron.

"You know another healer in the castle?"

He clearly didn't, whether there was one or not, "Doesn't look 'that' bad."

"It is," said Harry, having suffered a broken arm once before gave him a clear point for comparison. It didn't feel as bad as that, but it was bad enough he knew it wasn't going to get better on its own.

"I think there's only one way to prove it," said Hermione.

"I don't need to prove it Hermione, I can feel it," said Harry.

"No, no, I mean Snape. If he was after whatever is being guarded there must be a reason, and if we're to figure that out, we need to know what's being guarded."

"Makes sense," Ron agreed.

"No argument. So, how do we do it?"

That one stumped her, "I don't know."

"Ya think Hagrid might know?" said Ron. "Didn't he say he was supposed to be the one to pick you up. Wouldn't that mean he was supposed to pick 'it' up too."

"You might be right."

"Surely he wouldn't just tell us," Hermione countered.

The two boys just smiled, "He might not mean to," said Harry.

"Doesn't mean he wouldn't do it though, keep him talking long enough," agreed Ron.

Not having spent much time with the enormous groundskeeper Hermione had no way to know so she just shrugged. They'd no more time to talk on the subject anyway as they reached the hospital wing, and by the sounds coming from within they were not the first patients of the day.

"Hello? Madam Pomphrey?"

"In here!" a voice called back.

The trio walked cautiously into the place of healing. Heels clicked in rapid succession as someone moved about quickly. The source appeared out of a side chamber with an arm load of linens, topped with several colorful potion bottles.

"Excuse me a moment children," the medi-witch said. "I'm afraid Professor Snape is in a rather bad way just now."

"Oh, yeah, yeah, we heard about that," said Ron quickly to hide the snickering. "Are the burns very bad?"

The healer gave the 'not' chortling ginger the once over then sniffed dismissively, "The burns are the least of it," she said. "I'm afraid in an effort to put out the fire, Mr. Hagrid attempted to—stomp, the flames out."

Now, we can understand the three Gryffindor's had no love for Snape. But hearing someone had been 'stomped' by Hagrid. No matter how much you might 'not like' someone, it was hard not to feel some sympathy.

The trio visibly flinched.

"Blimey! Does he have any bones left?" Ron asked.

"Twelve fractures," said Madam Pomphrey, "Numerous contusions, tears, bruising, plus the burns on top of all that." The medi-witch shook her head tiredly. "There's a lot of work to do—oh, Mr. Potter I presume," she said, at last noticing her newest patient. "Hagrid mentioned you'd probably be along. Had a bit of a fall did you?"

"It—could have been worse," he said, remembering the event vividly and vowing to go see the headmaster as soon as he was able. "It's just, the arm."

"Let's have a look," she said, setting aside her linens and potions and drawing her wand.

"Will he be alright?" said Hermione as the elder witch wove intricate patterns around her friend's arm.

"Numerous tears, a good amount of bruising, swelling, one severe sprain, but, no broken bones," the medi-witch announced. "You're very lucky. All muscle work, and nothing over terrible. You should be right as rain by dinner time. This one on the other hand," she said, turning back to the screen that hid the bed which ostensibly held Snape, "He's going to be here a couple weeks at least. He isn't going to like that."

"Weeks!" said Ron, trying to contain his jubilation, "Gosh, that's just a cryin shame, ain't it."

"Hm," said the medi-witch, not the least bit convinced by his abysmal acting.

Ordered to strip off his upper layers she smeared a thick, pungent paste all over his arm and told him not to move as she bustled about dealing with Snape. With nothing to do, and Snape nearby so they couldn't plot, Hermione and Ron left him to the healer's care saying they'd see him at dinner.

"Two weeks, huh?" he mused quietly, staring at the unconscious Snape. "Not a lot of time. What are you after?" he pondered, mind drifting as the paste began cooling on his skin, leaving it heavy and numb, a feeling that spread to his head, just before he passed out.