Harry woke up to the sensation of lying in a rather comfortable bed. Judging by the slow breathing nearby, someone was sleeping – probably in a chair.
Where was he? What had happened? His memory was blurry… He felt heavy and achy all over, still. What had he done to deserve that?
And who was the person sleeping beside him? Nobody had been nice enough to do that to him… Was it Ardila?
He blinked his eyes open; he tried, at least. Too hard a chore… He attempted to move his fingers under the light sheet covering him, then.
It worked.
And on that, the person sleeping beside him stirred.
If Harry could stiffen in alarm, he would. But as it was, his shoulders trembled slightly. What would his captor do to him?
– "Good evening, Harry."
A wet finger traced the lines of his eyelids, then pried them open gently one by one. A face he had been somewhat familiar withgreeted his view, cautiously curious. It seemed that Harry was safe, after all. But was the man the older or the younger? The lighting was too dim to determine that.)
"No, I'm not my father, if you were wondering," the man murmured, as Harry tried to project his question by gaze alone.
Harry smiled, relieved. He was not ready to see his father's godfather too.
– "Are you thirsty?"
Harry blinked once. Yes.
The man braced him up against some pillows, then, and left. He returned bearing a small bowl and a spoon.
Harry stared at the clear liquid in the bowl bemusedly. What was that?
The man smiled. "Water, Harry," he said, as if answering his unspoken question. "I felt it prudent to give you that by spoon than by glass."
Strange, Harry thought; but by this time he would receive anything to soothe his throat in any way if it was not poison. It helped, immensely, that the man spoonfed him with surprising care and patience.
Still, he must not get himself used to this. The return to his relatives next year would shatter him if so.
Thus, trying to ignore how his mind and heart tried to cling to this near-stranger without his logic's leave, Harry chose to focus on getting as much information about the current situation as possible in his current state. All the liquidd had appeased his throat somewhat, so it was probably safe to attempt for speech now.
"Who're you? Where's Hedwig?" – A slurred croak, but better than nothing at all.
That smile again. "George," the man said simply. "Like my father." A shadow seemed to dim his eyes for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "I sent your familiar to one of Ardila's haunts. If you prefer, Ardila shall be here soon with the owl."
Harry shook his head. He did not live to be served. "Just you," he whispered. George was more than enough.
Something sparked into life in the man's eyes. Harry was glad that the man was pleased, if rather unintentional.