I can't keep on-track enough to write seven books; that's JK Rowling's job.
As Harry woke up, he noticed something fairly heavy but soft and warm on his chest, a weight pushing his torso deep into the cushiony mattress. Remembering the day before, he realised that it must be Hermione's head, and didn't bother to open his eyes and check, content with sleeping until the girl woke of her own accord.
He was pulled to consciousness a few hours later by a weight lifting from the area of his chest, and he blearily rubbed his eyes with his right hand, his left reaching for the glasses he usually wore. Oh, wait, he didn't wear them any more. That would take some getting used to. He wondered why nobody realised he hadn't been wearing them yesterday, but reminded himself bitterly that they saw his scar more than his face, and probably wouldn't notice if he broke his nose. After a few minutes of random tangential angst, most of which ended back on the subject of his hated scar, he sat up and bumped heads with someone who had been leaning over him.
With a splitting headache, he finally opened his eyes to see a certain bushy haired girl staring back at him, her headache apparently forgotten in the midst of something much more important. "Harry! Your scar's just... Gone!"
His eyes flew open at this, and he sprung out of bed, before landing in a heap on the floor. His muscles hadn't fully healed from the cold yet, after all.
After a snarky comment and levitating charm from Hermione, Harry was on the bed again, and the girl left to find a mirror. She came back a few minutes later with a wooden handled round mirror, and thrust it into his hands.
Harry's confusion changed to ecstasy as he tried and failed to find his scar. Sure, he could feel a slight tingle where it usually was, but to the outside world he was finally a normal boy. A regular green eyed, black haired scarless boy was gazing back at him, he reminded himself, and he was hard pushed to stop himself jumping for joy and interrupting his healing yet again. So he did the next best thing.
When Madam Pomfrey strode in with a skele-grow potion (she had to be sure, after all), she stopped short at the sight of a giggling Harry with streams of tears running down his face, hugging Hermione and rocking back and forth in time with her.
As they heard footsteps, the two broke apart and both went a red colour that the Weasleys would find impressive. Harry quickly wiped his tears away on the bed sheet, and turned to accept the potion without a word, not trusting his speech at that moment.
He downed the potion and was once again sent into a fit of giggles. "'Mione," he choked through laughter that gradually transformed into coughing, "remember when you bumped my head on the wall?"
Hermione raised an eyebrow at this. "Yeah, but I don't- wait, I didn't-"
"Yup," he confirmed, failing to regain control of himself, "I now have what feels like splinters in my skull." Hermione was horrified, and Poppy seemed mildly perturbed.
"You had a broken skull and didn't realise?" The medi-witch questioned him, using her patented 'what will I do with you, Potter?' voice.
"My head must've gone numb in the cold," he shrugged, carefully laying a foot on the ground and easing himself off the floor.
"Must you insist on leave the hospital wing right now?" she complained, but Hermione was the one to get through to Harry.
"Do you honestly think that school work is worth more than your life?" She admonished him, fully aware of the hypocrisy in her question. "You're staying here whether you like it or not." And with that, she pushed the weak boy back into bed, threw the covers over him and summoned ropes to bind him in place.
"Er, 'Mione, could you lose the ropes? I promise I won't run off."
"Oh fine, but promise you won't run off, okay?"
"I just did, 'Mione," he reminded her. "By the way, could you send my school-work here until I leave? I don't want to be bored out of my mind, after all."
She agreed to this, vanished the ropes, and left hurriedly to get to whatever lessons she had. Harry glanced at the clock hung on the wall. Quarter past twelve. Joy. This was going to be a long day.
Sorry that the chapter is so short, I'll start working on another immediately, but I felt this was a nice way to end off a chapter so I left it. The reveal of Harry's boggart should make an appearance next chapter, and I can tell you it won't be an icebox, Snivellus, Voldemort or Malfunction.
Harry's Animagus form should be somewhere in the next chapter, too, but don't quote that.
More foreshadowing towards a few plot points, but you probably won't believe some of the curveballs I'm gonna start throwing soon.
The reason behind Harry's lack of scar and much more, coming soon!