Fireman
His privacy was all but nonexistent, constantly bombarded with different medical wizards and witches, intermixed with taking different potions by the hour. The days seemed to blur together in a slur of pain and agony, and if it wasn't for the constant undercurrent of anger he held on to there was no way he would have lived through it.
It was the type of anger that settled in his bones, the kind that he knew would never be fully quenched or settled, always waiting in the back of his mind. It was the kind that made him want to die because of its sheer weight, but at the same time demanded he live to see retribution.
One day he seemed to regain a brief glimpse out of the agony, a strange numbing haze settling over him. "W-What's happening?"
"Mr. Potter! Take it slow, this is the first time you should be able to use your jaw in weeks." Said a witch nearby, her form blurry in his vision. He realized he was in a hospital of some sort.
"My jaw?" He asked, confused. He couldn't feel his jaw, couldn't feel any of his body at all, not even the vibrations in his throat from speaking to her.
Although blurry, he could tell she was looking at him strangely. "We had to regrow your jaw, Mr. Potter, after the… incident."
It was like his head was suddenly hit with a sledgehammer, his vision became blurry as memories resurfaced.
"Kill the spare!" Were the first words he remembered before a haze of dark figures descended on him intermixed with the yells of curses. He felt his skin being flayed off, his bones snapped, his head pounding in pain as his spine snapped while he was burned alive. It was too much it-
He heard a beeping in the distance, and a horde of mediwizards and witches stormed into his room. "He's going into shock! Get a-"
"-why did you talk to him?! He's still in shock!"
"I don't know! He just woke up and-"
A bald man that almost looked like a snake with no nose and red eyes covered his vision. Harry saw red, and yelled at him. "I'm going to kill you if it's the last thing I do before I die!"
A woman in the room screamed, most of them jerking back in shock as they tried to stabilize him. Some ran from the room, the commotion getting louder while he heard noise in the hallway. A witch closest to him started yelling. "Stun him! He's going under and can't handle the stress!"
"No sssstop!" He hissed, and realizing he was speaking in parseltongue. It was too late, and a red light consumed him.
The haze of pain and agony continued after that, his mind incoherent and in a constant state of tiredness. The anger was still there, even worse than before, and he knew he had a few more episodes like the last one but simply couldn't remember them.
Eventually it seemed to settle, and instead of terrible pain it was just tiredness and numbness that filled him. He didn't talk, he was simply too tired to do so, and no one bothered talking to him after the incidents. The medical staff avoided him as much as possible, he could tell, never looking directly at him and always speaking quickly when they needed to speak in his presence.
One day a brown haired girl entered his room, dressed in a hospital gown and a small cart magically following her. She was clearly a patient, and didn't bother looking at him. She walked over to the window in his room, which Harry suddenly realized had a great view of muggle London.
He finally spoke after a while, whether it was hours or minutes he didn't know. "What are you doing here?"
She screamed in fright, the noise hurting his ears, and looked at him with wide blue eyes. "Y-you speak?"
"I do. Why?"
"You just haven't said anything before." She said nervously. "I come in here all the time but you never notice."
He blinked, or at least thought he did. "I've never seen you before."
She seemed to wince. "I'm Astoria Greengrass, I'm two years behind you at Hogwarts."
"I see." Harry muttered, too tired to even bother recalling the names of people from that place.
"They said you only speak parseltongue since you came in." Astoria said quickly. "That you either don't speak and move at all or speak parseltongue. There's this rumor going around you've been healing yourself with parselmagic, and that's why you're still alive."
"Oh." Was all he could say lamely, no even bothering to address whatever that meant. "You never answered my question."
Astoria seemed to shrink. "I like the view from your room, it's the best view in the Hospital. And since you never speak, I figured you wouldn't care I'm visiting you. I can… leave if you want?"
"It's okay." Harry said, waving her off but his arm didn't move. "Why can't I move?"
"You're all bandaged up, like a mummy." Astoria said, a corner of her lips twitching. She held up a nearby mirror. "Here."
She was right, he was bandaged up like a mummy. Only his hair, eyes, nostrils, and lips seemed to be visible, all because of slits in the bandages over those areas. "I really do, don't I?"
"I heard you had to have all your bones regrown." Astoria said with a frown. "Not sure if that's true."
Harry snorted, "Kind of reminds me of second year when a House elf enchanted a bludger to kill me during a quidditch game, I lost all the bones in my arm but it wasn't this bad."
Astoria's disbelieving gaze snapped up. "A House elf tried to kill you?"
He shrugged but his shoulder didn't move. "His name was Dobby-"
A pop sounded and an elf appeared before lunging at him with a wail. "Great Harry Potter Sir!"
The loud noise made him cringe. "Not so loud, Dobby."
"This is the elf that tried to kill you?" Astoria asked disbelievingly, staring at Dobby.
Dobby wailed, "Oh it was terrible! Bad Dobby tried to injure Great Harry Potter Sir so he would be like he is now! Ohhh!"
The elf's wails were loud and obnoxious, and Harry cringed at the noise. Dobby went on to loudly explain how he tried to stop Harry from returning to Hogwarts in his second year, ending the explanation by berating himself loudly. Harry's annoyance reached its peak finally, a hiss escaped his lips. "Be ssssilent, Dobby!"
Suddenly the elf quieted, and Astoria reeled back. "They were right! You are speaking parseltongue!"
Harry composed himself with a breath. "I believe it's time for you to leave, Miss Greengrass."
Astoria gave a polite smile. "It was nice meeting you, Harry Potter."
The small witch left the room, and Harry hoped he would see her again at Hogwarts. If he went back to Hogwarts, that is.
"Dobby?" Harry asked suddenly. "Do I have any mail? Have my friends written?"
"No. No mail from friends addressed to Great Harry Potter Sir."
"I see." Harry muttered, a flash of sadness rising up before it was consumed by the anger in his bones. "Can you tell me what happened, Dobby?"
"Oh it was terrible!" Dobby said sadly. "Great Harry Potter Sir returned terribly injured in the third task. Cedric sir was dead and with you as well, Sir."
Harry breathed heavily, trying not to remember those paintful memories. "What's happened since?"
"Great Headmaster Sir has proclaimed You-know-who is back. He said that you were injured by him in the third task."
"I see." Harry said, for what felt like the hundredth time. He felt the urge to leave this place, to escape the hospital and hunt down the ones who did this to him.
Soon. He thought. Soon I'll fucking kill them all.