Author's Notes: This arc will only get updated daily, guys. Gives me time to look over each chapter before posting, and I'm super busy (even though it doesn't seem like it because of quick updates). Thank you for your reviews, favorites, PMs, and follows. It's always nice to get feedback when it's not expected.
The Hogwarts Express moved steadily north and the scenery had grown wilder and darker as the clouds outside thickened. The lanterns had flickered to life inside the compartment and out in the corridor when the thick dark grey clouds turned even darker. The train rattled, the rain hammered, the wind roared, but still Professor Lupin slept.
Harry glanced over the professor while Sally-Anne and Neville ate the cauldron cakes. The professor might not have been very good company, but his presence had its uses. Harry inwardly winced. By the by, he was beginning to sound more Slytherin with each passing year. He hoped he didn't forget his chess pieces were people by the end of his seventh year…
Pounding footsteps sounded outside the door, and Theodore Nott slid open the door, his eyes on Sally-Anne. "There you are!"
Harry didn't shush him since he figured that if the rain beating down loudly on the carriage hadn't woken the professor then he didn't think much would.
Sally-Anne scooted closer to the professor, and Theodore stepped in, sliding the door shut behind him. "I've been looking everywhere for you." He plopped down next to her and across from Harry, not looking the least bit interested in the stranger in the compartment. "Hey, Harry."
"Hullo, Theo."
"Hi, Theodore."
Ignoring Neville, Theodore gestured towards Harry and leaned towards Sally-Anne. "Why's he look so glum?"
"Could be the weather," Sally-Anne suggested with a smirk.
"Oh come off it! You know what's wrong," Theodore said.
While Theodore wheedled a strangely tight-lipped Sally-Anne, Harry patted Neville's shoulder. "Rule One when dealing with Slytherins: Don't address us by our first name unless you have permission. It's considered rude. To you, Theo's name is Nott."
Neville's hurt expression melted into confusion.
"Go on, try again," Harry encouraged.
"Er, hi Nott."
"I only asked you a simple—Hey, Longbottom," Theodore interrupted himself mid-sentence, flashing the Gryffindor a smile, "Like I said, I only asked you a simple question and you've completely refused to answer it. What've I done to you?"
Sally-Anne simply smiled as if she hadn't heard a word Theodore had said.
Neville blinked. "That's it? But," he took a deep breath, "I didn't ask you."
"You didn't have to. You've been nice to me since you've met me without having other motives," Harry answered honestly.
"Well that explains how I fell into your good graces so quickly," Sally-Anne said nosily.
Stopping mid-tirade, Theodore shook his head. "How many people are truly like that? We all have our ulterior motives."
"Some worse than others," Harry responded harshly, thinking of Draco. He drank the rest of his pumpkin juice. It was only supposed to be late afternoon, and yet the windows were completely black as if it was night-time with a new moon. Abruptly, the train started to slow down. Harry's eyebrows drew down. They couldn't be there yet…
"Great," Neville said brightly, "I can't wait to get to the feast!"
"We can't be there yet," Sally-Anne said.
"Then why's the train slowing?"
The Slytherins exchanged glances. Why was the train slowing? As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and the rain crashed against the windows, louder than ever.
Harry was beginning to get a bad feeling. As he and Theodore were nearest to the corridor, they opened the door and looked out. All along the carriage, curious heads were looking out of their compartments.
The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks in the luggage carriage behind them. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged in total darkness. Neville whimpered next to Harry.
"What's going on?" Sally-Anne whispered tightly. "Has the train broken down?"
"I don't think so," Harry said as he felt his way back to his seat.
"Harry. Oh bugger, there's something really dark coming. Can you check—"
"Ow, Neville!" Harry snapped at the Gryffindor. "Get off my hand!"
"Sorry," Neville's voice was so quiet that Harry had to strain to hear it. "What does Theo—Nott mean, Harry? Check what?"
"Can you check to see what's going on outside?" Harry asked, digging through his pockets. It was only then that he remembered he'd put the Bewitched watch in his trunk. Harry could've hit himself. Why was it that he always forgot something extremely necessary when he most needed it?
"No, everything's black," Neville answered. "Should I—go find Hermione?"
"That wouldn't do any good." Harry heard the door slide open.
"Lumos," Theodore cast, and Harry could see it was Ginny Weasley, who blinked painfully in the sudden light.
"Harry, are you in here?" She squinted at them.
"You should've stayed put in your compartment," he told her.
"I thought maybe you knew—"
"Neville, move over, so she can have a seat."
"Thank you, Harry," Ginny said warmly. No sooner had she plopped down on Harry's left, a hoarse voice cut through them all, "Be silent."
Professor Lupin seemed to have woken up at last. No one spoke.
There was a soft, crackling noise, and a brighter light filled the compartment. Professor Lupin appeared in the soft blue glow, holding a handful of flames, which illuminated his tired, grey-tinged face with a pencil mustache. In the half-light, Harry saw the remnants of a terrible scar across his face. His grey eyes looked alert and wary.
"Stay where you are," he said in the same hoarse voice, and he got slowly to his feet.
Harry gasped as the air suddenly grew frigidly cold. Theodore's Lighting spell dimmed and went out. Beside them, the door slid open. He looked up in Lupin's dimming magical fire and saw a cloaked figure nearly brush its head against the ceiling. The figure's face was completely hidden beneath his hood, breathing hollowly. Harry's eyes darted downwards, and what he saw made his stomach contract. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, greyish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in the water…
Dementor! His mind screamed at him.
But the hand withdrew back into the black cloak as though the creature beneath the cloak had sensed Harry's gaze. It drew in another long, slow rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings. Happiness! His mind screamed. It eats happiness!
Trevor shrieked out a croak, and Neville whimpered. Ginny had tightly pressed herself next to Harry. Harry saw Theodore and Sally-Anne's equally terrified expressions.
The intense cold must have frozen Professor Lupin in place, who stood there with glaring eyes.
Harry saw their breaths puffing out misty whiteness and felt his own breath catch in his chest. The snakes on both arms were as still as death. Harry feared for them. This cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest, inside his very heart. "No!" Harry croaked out as he saw the dementor lean over him. His eyes rolled up into his head. It was feeding off of him! He couldn't see. He was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in his ears as though of water, and he was being dragged downward, the roaring growing louder…
And then, from faraway, he heard screaming, terrible, terrified, pleading screams. He wanted to help her, whoever it was; he tried to move his arms, but couldn't… It was as if a thick white fog was swirling around him, inside him—
Laying on a cushion, he stirred, his head feeling stuffed with wood dust.
"Harry! Are you alright?"
Harry opened his eyes. There were lanterns above him, and the cushion was shaking beneath his cheek. The Hogwarts Express was moving again and the lights were on. He must have fallen over. He sensed that others were around him, hovering. Disoriented, Harry sat up, realizing his glasses had fallen off when he went to push them up his nose and found them missing. His skin felt cold and clammy beneath his fingers. From his symptoms he knew he'd been attacked by a dementor as he'd read in The Ultimate Compendium of All Dark Creatures Known and Un-Known.
Theodore and Sally-Anne's faceless heads were the first Harry saw. Theodore handed him his Glaxxes, bringing their faces into focus.
"Here, eat this. It'll help," Professor Lupin said holding out a bar of dark brown chocolate. Harry took it carefully.
"Are you okay?" Neville repeated nervously, eyes darting to the two Slytherins who hadn't bothered to ask.
"Yeah," Harry said looking towards the door, eating the chocolate. The moment it touched his mouth he began to feel better. Thank Merlin that the dementor was gone. "Who screamed?"
"No one screamed," Ginny said more nervously than Neville.
Harry looked around the bright compartment that was considerably cramped since he'd taken up the whole bench when he fell over. Everyone except for Professor Lupin looked back at him with various levels of queasiness.
"You didn't hear anyone?"
"No, Harry," his roommate said.
Harry hated being stared at.
Professor Lupin crumpled up the empty chocolate wrapper and put it in his pocket. "Finish that," he said. "I need to speak to the driver, excuse me." The tired professor squeezed past the five students.
Harry felt weak and shivery, as though he were recovering from a bad bout of flu. Even the large bar of chocolate didn't seem to help entirely.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Neville asked, watching him anxiously.
Harry cleaned the drying sweat off his face. "Why are all of you looking at me like that?"
"Well—that thing—stood there and looked around, I think—and you—you—" Ginny stammered, flushing when she couldn't finish. "You went sort of rigid, like you were having a fit," she continued. "And you fell onto me, twitching—"
"The dementor attacked you," Theodore stated simply, looking quite apprehensive.
"Professor Lupin must've realized what was happening. He had to cast a Patronus Charm to send it away," Sally-Anne said.
"It was horrible!" Ginny said, letting out a small sob as she fell back onto her seat and wrapped arms around her midsection. "I couldn't stop shaking until he gave me some chocolate."
"It was like I'd never be cheerful again," Neville said miserably.
Harry didn't understand why the dementor had attacked him specifically instead of continuing to indiscriminately feed from all of them. Surely, the others had richer, happier memories? He also felt the beginnings of shame, when it became apparent that he had passed out. Why had he gone to pieces like that when no one else had? The book only said fainting spells resulted from a weakened body and mind. Harry didn't think he was weak, far from it.
"Why were there dementors on this train?" The sound of the door opening didn't cause Harry to look up. "I thought they were supposed to stay by Azkaban."
They looked squeamish.
"They were searching for Sirius Black." Professor Lupin had come back. "We'll be at Hogwarts in ten minutes. Are you alright, Harry?"
Harry didn't tell Professor Lupin not to use his name so informally. He looked up and smiled and, though he didn't feel it at all, he made sure his aura showed it. "I'm fine."
"So you're our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Theodore had opted to fill in the uncomfortable silence that had befallen the five Hogwarts students.
"Yes. My name is Professor Lupin. I'm terribly sorry I didn't take up the post sooner. I had other engagements to iron out."
"Your Patronus charm was executed superbly," Sally-Anne complimented. "If you hadn't, Harry would've…" She looked sickened at the thought.
Harry shuddered to think of receiving a Dementor's Kiss. Dementors sucked the life right out of you, the part of someone that animated a person and made them more than just a living sack of fluid and organs.
"Professor, what are dementors? I've heard stories about them, but… Why do some people react worse than others?" Ginny asked quietly.
"They are Dark creatures that force us to relive our worst memories. They feed off any happiness, any good feeling a person has," Professor Lupin nodded to himself. "Only someone who has witnessed true horrors in their life is so deeply affected by a dementor's presence. Wouldn't you say, Mr. Nott?"
Theodore nodded. "Da's made sure I've… never been in harm's way of any Dark artifacts or creatures he's newly discovered."
"I haven't witnessed anything terrible," Sally-Anne admitted.
"Neither have I," Neville said.
"I believe the same cannot be said of the both of you, hm?" The thin professor looked at Ginny kindly.
"I was possessed by a diary, made to do awful things last year at Hogwarts," Ginny whispered.
"A horror that very few could scarcely imagine. You are not weak, Ginny."
Harry swallowed when the professor turned towards him. "And you, Harry?"
He refused to answer, looking at the somber expressions on the others' faces.
"I've heard from the headmaster that you've faced down death each year you've been at Hogwarts," Professor Lupin said conversationally.
Harry gave the professor a level stare. "Only because Voldemort didn't get his way when I was a baby. Now, he wants to finish the job."
Blinking with surprise at Harry's unfriendly expression, Professor Lupin stated evenly, "I'm not your enemy, Harry."
"With all due respect, professor," Theodore interrupted, "You can't really expect to win him over so easily. Professor Quirrell tried to kill him his first year and Professor Lockhart absconded with him every chance he got."
The professor chuckled at that. "So I've been told."
At long last, the train was beginning to slow without a dementor in sight. Finding the compartment stifling with the attention on him, Harry stood up and opened the door. He leaned his hand on the wall to balance himself as the train slowed to enter Hogsmeade station.
"Harry! Where're you going?" Ginny's voice called.
Ignoring her because he didn't want to talk anymore about the dementor attack, Harry noticed fairly quickly that no one was taking their luggage; so, he pulled up the hood of his Spellfast cloak and hopped off the stopped train onto the platform. Along with the students were their owls, cats, rats, and toads. It was freezing; rain was driving down upon him in icy sheets. With the Spellfast cloak though, it only felt icy to Harry. His breath was coming out in great misty puffs; he tucked his fingers under his arms to stay warm, hating the reminder of the dementor's effects.
"Firs' years this way!" called a familiar voice. Harry turned to see the gigantic outline of Hagrid at the other end of the platform, beckoning the terrified-looking new students forward for their traditional journey across the lake.
"All righ', Harry?" Hagrid bellowed through the rain, over the heads of the crowd.
He waved and nodded, wishing the half-giant hadn't done that. The soaked first years were staring at him with well-recognized idolization. The mass of others around him shunted him off the platform, and Harry didn't resist the flow of the crowd. He wondered what form of transportation the rest of the students had taken to get to Hogwarts grounds since he had missed it last year due to a blocked barrier to Hogwarts Express. Only first years took the boat across the lake.
He saw now that there was a rough muddy track made worse by the unrelenting rain, where at least a hundred stagecoaches awaited the remaining students. Harry saw that each were pulled by a creature standing between the carriage shafts and harnessed to the coach; if he had to give them a name, he supposed he would have called them horses, though there was something reptilian about them, too. They were completely fleshless, their sopping wet black coats clinging to their skeletons, of which every bone was visible. Their heads were the most reptilian part of them, and their pupil-less eyes white and staring. Wings sprouted from each wither—vast, leathery wings that looked as though they ought to belong to giant bats. Standing still and quiet in the rain, the creatures looked sinister.
Harry watched as at most four students would climb into a stagecoach and shut the door. Then, the eerie horse would set off, pulling a bumping and swaying stagecoach behind it. He was surprised that no one seemed to be talking about them, not even second years.
Wanting to get to the start-of-term feast as soon as possible, Harry climbed into a stagecoach after three others. It smelled faintly of mold and straw. When he pulled down the cowl, Harry found some familiar faces: Lisa Turpin, Padma Patil, and one other girl Harry didn't know, all Ravenclaws by the insignia on their robes. "Hullo, do you mind if I sit here?"
Across from him, Turpin and Patil looked at one another and then shook their heads. The girl with straggly, waist-length, very blond hair and pale eyebrows answered, though that was all Harry saw of her over the magazine. "Of course we mind, since you like snakes so much. If I was a snake, I don't think I'd have minded." The girl never lowered The Quibbler.
He raised an eyebrow and sank into the seat next to the strange girl, shutting the door. He lurched forward as the coach took off, while the other two girls tittered.
"Don't mind Luna Lovegood. She's a year younger than us," Patil explained.
"She says she had a bad summer break," Turpin stated.
"Dad and I had an infestation of Nargles and Wrackspurts," Lovegood said sullenly from behind her magazine.
"Neither of those creatures have been discovered to exist yet," Turpin told Harry solemnly.
"Though their existence has been theorized by several notable magical persons, including Rowena Ravenclaw," Patil added.
"I made special glasses so anybody can see them." Lovegood promptly put the magazine down to open her bag. Harry noticed that her eyes were protuberant, which gave her a permanently surprised look. He was incredulous to see that she kept her wand behind her left ear for safe-keeping as a wand mis-fire was the reason why most people kept their wands in a holster. Her necklace of Butterbeer caps clinked as Lovegood pulled out an interesting pair of glasses. It sparkled and had a different colored lens for each eye, a red and a blue one. Harry thought they looked a little like vintage 3-d viewers for a film. "Here. Try them on if you don't believe me."
Harry dutifully took them and slipped them over his glasses. At first, he didn't see anything different, until he noticed a cloud that swarmed around Turpin's head. He took them off, and the strange gnat-like cloud vanished. "What are Nargles and Wrackspurts?" He handed the glasses back to her.
"They flit into your head and make it hard to think. One's the size of gnats and the other the size of specks. And you're Harry Potter," Lovegood answered, while the other two Ravenclaws chatted to one another as if they weren't there.
As their coach trundled towards a pair of magnificent wrought-iron gates, which was flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars, Harry saw two more towering, hooded dementors, standing guard on either side. A wave of cold sickness threatened to engulf him again; he leaned into the lumpy seat and closed his eyes until they passed through the gates.
"Awful, aren't they?"
He gave Lovegood a look that said as much and then she stared out the small window of the stagecoach towards the dementors they'd left behind. He liked that she simply took his expression as an answer.
Harry could hear the horse's hooves pick up speed on the long, sloping drive up to the castle and the stagecoach jostled whenever it hit a stone. Padma and Turpin were talking about boys as far as Harry could tell, something he wasn't interested in overhearing.
At last, the stagecoach swayed to a halt. The Ravenclaws got out. When Harry stepped down and pulled the hood of his cloak up to prevent himself from getting drenched, a drawling, delighted voice sounded next to him.
"You fainted, Harry? Was Longbottom telling the truth? You actually fainted?" Draco's grey eyes were glinting maliciously from the cowl of his school cloak as Crabbe and Goyle stepped on either side of Harry.
Harry wondered if his roommate was still upset over not being allowed to kick Neville and Sally-Anne out of the compartment. The other students steered clear of them eager to be out of the rain. "Only someone who's experienced true horror reacts that way to a dementor, Draco. Let me guess: You only felt like the world was a little darker, a little less happy as if your mum and dad would never love you again?"
Draco's expression turned sour. "Longbottom's told everyone. And if you'd let me talk to you earlier, I would have told you about the sweep the dementors were going to perform on the train."
"You could've told me without bullying my other friends."
His face became pinched. "You don't seem to recognize that you have a reputation to uphold! I will not have you showing weakness in front of the whole school!"
"Shove off, Malfoy. Nobody cares what you want," Ron Weasley's voice wafted from behind Harry. Harry turned to see Hermione standing beside Ron.
"You alright?"
"I'm fine," Harry said to Hermione, "Though I'd be better if Ron—"
"I heard your sister was quaking in her seat, Weasley. Did you have to change your pants after the big scary dementor frightened you?" Draco raised semi-curled hands. "Boo!" Crabbe and Goyle had a great laugh at that.
"I'll hex you for that!" Ron yelled, reaching for the box that held his wand.
"Ron, no!" Hermione said, grabbing him as Harry's roommates laughed.
Harry flexed his cold, damp fingers agitatedly by his wand. Why did it always end this way?
"Is there a problem?" a mild voice asked. Professor Lupin had just arrived.
Draco gave their new DADA teacher an insolent stare, which took in the patched robes and dilapidated suitcase. "Oh no, professor," he said in the sweetest voice he could muster. "Weasley just wanted to show me his… wand. It was rather short, wasn't it, boys?"
Crabbe and Goyle nodded, smirking, while Harry frowned puzzled by the statement because fourteen inches was longer than Harry's forearm.
"Oh, consider yourself hexed!" Ron hissed going for the wand still trapped inside the box in his robes.
"Enough," Professor Lupin said. "I expect you all to go to the Great Hall. If I catch you dallying again, I'll take away House points. Ron, Hermione, if I might have a moment with you?"
Draco's smile was a little less pleasant. "Of course, professor. Harry and I were just leaving." He grabbed Harry's forearm and directed him towards the Entrance Hall. Harry felt the snakes ring around his biceps tightly, pulling away from the foreign warmth. "Crabbe, Goyle," Draco ordered.
Once they'd traveled up the hill towards Hogwarts, Harry yanked his arm away. "Why do you keep being a git to Weasley?"
"Because it's fun to see him lose what little wits he has to his emotions," Draco volunteered as they joined the crowd swarming up the steps through the giant oak front doors.
"I wish you wouldn't," Harry said irritably. "He's less obnoxious when he isn't foaming at the mouth."
Draco laughed as they entered the cavernous entrance hall to the Great Hall within Hogwarts castle. The Entrance Hall was lit with flaming torches and housed a marble staircase that led to the lower floors of Hogwarts. The snakes on Harry's arms slithered about, sensing excitement from the swells of students around them, no doubt.
"Potter!" Professor Snape's voice cut across the crowd.
"Are you going to start every year like this?" Draco tossed at Harry.
Harry scowled. "Shut it."
Draco guffawed once, and Harry quite deliberately turned his back on his roommate and pushed through the students.
"Granger and Perks!" Harry looked up to see that it had been Professor McGonagall, who was a stern-looking witch who wore her hair in a tight bun. At the moment she was wearing a square pair of spectacles that framed her sharp eyes. He wondered what Hermione or Sally-Anne had possibly done to get into trouble.
Discovering that he was farther away than he anticipated since the students kept pushing him away from Professor Snape, Harry heaved a sigh. When he finally stepped next to the Potions Master, Harry banished the useless sense of foreboding he had. He hadn't done anything wrong yet.
"Go, Draco," Professor Snape said, gesturing towards the Great Hall.
Harry turned to see that he had been followed. Draco clucked his tongue and made a noise of disappointment. With his faithful sidekicks, the other Slytherin entered the Great Hall.
Accompanying Professor Snape across the hall, Harry was led down the marble staircase and along a chilly corridor. Once they were in his office, his guardian motioned Harry to sit. He obliged. When his Head of House was not immediately forthcoming, Harry asked, "What's this about?"
Snape opened a large, polished dark wood box with a hole in the side of it. "Professor Dumbledore will allow the Lionsnakes to establish themselves, so long as they remain in this box for seven days. Inform them."
Oh, right. Harry leaned his mouth towards his arms. "Lucy, Sam, we're here. You mustn't leave this box for seven sunsets. Can you promise me this? Afterwards, Hogwarts castle will be yours."
"We already heard him," Lucy hissed. "We agree to these terms. That journey exhausted us."
Harry stood up and went to the box which was lined with crushed, cushioned blue velvet. There was a small bowl of water. He held his hands out, and the outlines of the snake's bodies became very apparent as they slithered down his arms and dropped into the box.
With a slight look of relief, Snape flipped the lid shut. Before he could say anything else, there was a soft knock on the door and Madam Pomfrey, the Healer of Hogwarts, came in. She was much shorter than she had been last year.
Harry felt his face go red. It was bad enough that he'd passed out, but now even his guardian was making a fuss about it? "I'm fine," he said quickly, "I don't need anything. I've already had—"
"A close encounter with a dementor is nothing to sneeze at, and you won't be the last to collapse from them," Madam Pomfrey said curtly, staring at him closely. "May I check your scar?"
Harry nodded.
She pushed Harry's hair back and felt his forehead. "Oh dear, you're so clammy. Terrible things, dementors. And the effect they have on people who are already delicate—"
"I'm not delicate!" Harry said hotly.
"Of course not," Madam Pomfrey said absently, taking his pulse. Harry wondered why she wasn't simply doing a diagnostic spell. "I was talking about students who will take ill later. Sickness makes a person more susceptible to a dementor's effects."
Standing there like a sentinel, Snape said nothing as Harry waited very patiently for Madam Pomfrey to finish running her warm palms over Harry's face and the glands beneath his jaw. "You've had chocolate, dear?" She peered closely into Harry's eyes.
"Yes. Professor Lupin gave me some."
"So we've finally got a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who knows his remedies," Madam Pomfrey said approvingly. "I'm not surprised. Remus was gifted in that subject as a student here." She pulled away from Harry, giving her attention to the Potions Master. "Harry needs bed rest for tonight."
"I'm fine!" Harry said angrily.
The two adults stared him down. Harry fidgeted under their intense scrutiny.
"Normally I wouldn't have prescribed anything but rest. In your case, however…" Madam Pomfrey's eyes left Harry's and glanced towards Snape.
"Professor Lupin said you hallucinated that someone was screaming. Will you describe that to us?"
Harry scowled. No, he was not keen to do that.
"Then you will go to the hospital wing and follow Madam Pomfrey's directions precisely. You will not give her any cheek or go sneaking off in the middle of the night. Have I made myself clear?"
"Yes, sir," Harry groused out.
"Your cloak then." Professor Snape held a palm open to him.
Harry went to the silver snake clasp at the Spellfast cloak.
"Your other cloak," Snape said slowly.
With a baleful look, Harry took the sheer material from his inner robes. "I'll hand it over if you promise to give it back tomorrow."
Professor Snape inclined his head, and Harry passed it to him.
Then, the professor flicked his fingers towards the door, where Madam Pomfrey was standing patiently.
Harry dutifully followed her to the infirmary. He would miss out on the Sorting, which placed the new students into one of the four possible Houses, and Dumbledore's yearly speech. It hardly seemed fair since he'd missed them last year too.
They arrived at the quiet end of the corridor and entered into the infirmary.
"I'll update you on any news from the feast. The kitchen staff should send something up for you shortly," Madam Pomfrey said bustling over to the bed farthest from the door. "Here you are then."
Harry looked pointedly at the bed and then the long distance he was from the only exit. It was obvious that neither adult had forgotten about his sneaking off to go save Ginny last year.
"Once you've eaten, I want you to take a Dreamless Sleep Draught." She pointed her wand at the bedside table, transfiguring it into a small chair and table. It looked rather sad and lonely to Harry.
"Yes, ma'am," he said crisply.
She went to the medicine cupboard, pulling out a vial, and then swiped her wand over it. The vial floated slowly towards Harry, hovering until he took it and placed it on the table.
When Harry sat down, a golden plate, silverware, and a goblet appeared. Not long after, the plate and goblet had filled itself with food and drink, respectively. Harry ate his fill, though he missed the noise of other students eating and chatting and carrying on.
The empty dishes disappeared when he finally stood up, belly bulging. Once he toed off his shoes and slipped off his outer robes, Harry slid under the bed covers. Even though he wasn't in the dormitories and even though he wasn't surrounded by his friends, Harry felt he was home at last.
He drank the potion in one swift gulp and fell into a deep sleep.