FFSICR is undergoing heavy revision and plot editing. I had a very vague idea of where I was going with the story - vague as in 'Harry might meet Voldemort at some point' - and I wanted this to be a good, serious fic with a good plot and three-dimensional characters from me for once. I need to think more about it. I don't want to abandon it - I really liked my idea.
In the meantime, here is the original chapter six, original author's notes intact because I'm just lazy like that, I found on my computer for your...enjoyment.
Edit: No one ever seems to read properly. 'Update soon, update soon'. Yeah. Sure.
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Read the BOLDED author's note above BEFORE YOU DO ANYTHING ELSE or Zombie Guy will scoop out your innards with a melon baller.
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W00T
For disclaimer, see prologue.
Chapter Six: You're a Strange One, Mr Nurse
(A/N: Average review count: 4.83.
If only I had got one more review. That number could have been 5…woe.)
W00T
Last time…
Harry lost control of his lungs, as if he were being squeezed by a hydraulic press on all sides so hard he couldn't breathe, just as his brain cried, 'Sleep! I need sleep! Kthxbye, you're on your own.'
That wasn't the last message his brain left him, though. No, his last thought before he collapsed was Wow, this floor is cold.
W00T
Unlike the way a normal person slowly came into consciousness, with hearing first and sight later, Harry's eyes snapped open. Quickly becoming aware of the fact that he was not in 'that street' anymore, he didn't know whether to be panicked or relaxed. On the one hand, there were no mobby mobs to mob him. On the other hand, he didn't have the slightest clue of where he was, and that made him just a tiiiny bit nervous.
Well, he was lying down again, that much he knew. Only this time it seemed to be on a bed, not a floor in a suspiciously clean alley.
Everything was fuzzy. Someone had taken off his glasses. Harry reached out with a hand and felt around, assuming there was a table next to the bed. Finding his glasses, he slid them on.
There was something cutting into his face. Not painfully, but enough to make him aware of it before anything else. Puzzled, Harry reached up a hand to take it off, knocking his glasses askew in the process. It was an oxygen mask, he realised, staring at it in confusion. For lack of anywhere else to put it, he removed the strap from behind his head and placed it next to him on the bed, straightening his glasses.
There was something cutting into his right wrist. Not painfully, but enough to make him aware of it before anything else (besides the oxygen mask). Puzzled, Harry raised said wrist in front of him and found that there was some kind of white strap around it, like a bracelet. There was no realisation of what it was, because he didn't know what it was. He stared at it in confusion anyway, because there seemed to be a lot of cause for confusion today.
He looked to his right. There was a tall machine sitting there. Harry couldn't see the front of it, seeing as he was lying down in a bed, but he knew it was a beeping machine. Perhaps not a machine designed solely to beep, but that was a feature of it. Harry stared in confusion.
He wasn't dressed in his normal – clothes, if you could call them that. They had been long-sleeved, if a bit tattered. He was now dressed in, he assumed, a standard hospital-issue outfit. It was short-sleeved and green-and-white striped. It must be cut out in the back, Harry figured. That's what people always said hospital pyjamas were like. He made a face and wondered why the cost of half an outfit made that much difference. Cheapskates.
Why was he in a hospital?
He lay there for a few more moments, trying to come up with various reasons to answer this question, when the green curtains surrounding his bed were flung open. Harry jerked his head around to look at who was intruding on his personal space. Then he realised that this was a hospital, and thus he had no personal space to intrude upon.
The person who had not intruded on his personal space went over to the tall machine thing at his bedside without looking at him, knelt down on the floor, and started searching behind the machine with a hand. Harry stared.
The man seemed to have found what he was looking for, because he smiled, and he started tugging on something. Harry stared.
'Cease and desist!' Harry's curtains were flung open again. Well, I know this is a hospital, but this is really pushing it, Harry thought, somewhat sulkily.
The man kneeling on the floor looked up. Eyes widening, he gave one last futile tug, realised it was futile, let go, sprinted to the window, opened it, and threw himself out. Harry stared.
'I say!' the second man who had not intruded on his personal space cried indignantly, running over to the window and looking out, as if to identify the non-intruder. 'Don't people have any respect for others' lives these days?'
'Er,' said Harry.
'We all have a right to live, you know!' the man continued passionately, shaking his first at someone on the street below. He sighed and turned to Harry. 'Oh, you're awake, Mr Potter!'
'Er,' said Harry.
'And how are we feeling today? No, no, don't get up,' he said hurrying over to stop Harry from getting up despite the fact that Harry had no intention of doing so in the first place. 'You've been sleeping for quite a long time, Mr Potter!'
'Er,' said Harry. 'So theoretically, shouldn't I be very well-rested right now?'
'That's why they call it a theory, Mr Potter!'
'Er,' said Harry, again. 'Who are you and what are you doing here?'
'Why, I'm your nurse, of course, Mr Potter! And before you say anything, I'm not gay,' he added sharply.
'Er,' said Harry.
'Mr Auror has been quite worried about you, Mr Potter,' said the male nurse, reverting back to his previous cheerful mood.
'…Mr Auror?'
'Your friend who brought you in, Mr Potter!'
'Er,' said Harry.
'Isn't that his name? That's what he told me. Granted, I've never heard of a name like that before, but…'
'…I suppose it is,' said Harry, slightly bewildered.
'Well, you seem to be fine now. Would you like for him to come in, Mr Potter?'
'Er,' said Harry. 'Okay.'
'I wonder why you keep saying "er" all the time?' the male nurse said cheerily before walking out, presumably to fetch 'Mr Auror'.
He's a bit of an odd duck, Harry thought to himself. …I wonder where that expression came from?
A brisk voice shook him from his musings. 'Are you feeling better now, Mr Potter?' asked yet another man not intruding on his personal space, walking with a brisk stride to match his tone. He was dressed in rather odd attire: a formal suit jacket complete with a colourful rainbow tie, jeans, fuzzy slippers, and a straw hat to top off his ensemble.
'Er,' said Harry. 'Yes, thank you.' He paused delicately. 'May I ask why you are dressed in that manner?'
'Mr Auror' looked down at his clothing. 'Why, is it inappropriate? I was told…er, people dressed in this manner. I was given some rather conflicting suggestions, and instead of choosing just one, I decided to mix them up, just to be safe.'
'I would question as to your definition of "safe",' said Harry wryly, wondering why the Auror needed people to tell him how to dress.
The Auror coughed. 'The…er, doctors told me yours was a simple case of exhaustion due to lack of sleep. Have you not been sleeping well lately, Mr Potter?'
Harry stared.
'…Mr Potter?'
'You found me in an alley,' Harry began, slowly.
'…Yes?'
'You found me trying to sleep in an alley,' Harry continued, equally slowly.
'…Yes,' said the Auror again, clearly wondering where Harry was going with this.
'You found me trying to sleep in alley, dressed in rags,' Harry continued, equally slowly. This description wasn't exactly flattering to him, but it was the truth.
'…'
Harry stared. The Auror stared back.
Deciding that now was not the time to begin a staring contest, Harry sighed. 'Okay, let me give you a really big hint. What do homeless people do and wear?'
'…Homeless people?'
Harry stared in disbelief. The Auror blinked at him.
'You know? People who don't have a proper place to live? And are forced to do so on the streets?'
'…'
Harry put his face in his hands. Just for effect, really, because it was hard to do that properly with glasses on.
W00T
(A/N: Reviews feed writers' hungry souls. Remember that, and you shall walk on an enlightened path. Don't you want to walk on an enlightened path?
And because I'm so nice, I shall help you walk on an enlightened path. All you have to do is answer this one simple question in a review: What did you like about the chapter, if at all? (Although, you know, to walk on an even more enlightened path, which is shorter, and therefore less time-wasting, you could add more detail in your review. What didn't you like about the chapter, why, and how do you think I could improve on that?
…Or anything, even. How was your day?)
Just six reviews on this chapter to bring the average review count up to five! Just six!)