Harry receives lots of visitors.

HARRY XVIII

Every inch, every extremity, every part of his body hurt. The surface on which he was lying was soft, and comfortable. He groaned as he pressed his eyelids against his eyes, and decided to not open them right away. He wasn't even sure where he was, and how he ended there.

"Harry?"

He knew this voice. He heard it as… Dementors… Cold… The Quidditch match… The screams… His mother's screams…

He opened his eyes and sat right away. He looked on his right, where the voice came from, and met identical eyes to his own.

"Harry! Good heavens, don't scare me!" his mother almost jumped.

Harry didn't listen to her. He was about to ask her if she was alright, but he realized very quickly that he was the one sitting in a hospital bed, while his mother seemed completely alright, aside from the fact she was wet from head to toe. His mind came to the realization that these were screams from the past, screams his mother made over twelve years ago that he heard.

"Get back into your bed."

She slowly but firmly pushed him back against the mattress. Harry remembered the times when he was younger. He would sit back, refusing to go to sleep, and his mother would always throw him back into his bed, no matter how many times he tried. He even made a joke out of it one night, and they ended up laughing for over fifteen minutes as his mother kept pushing him back against his mattress while he always sat back.

"How are you feeling?" his mother asked him.

"What happened?" Harry asked, as an answer.

"You fell from your broom. About fifteen or twenty meters, I'm not sure. Dumbledore intervened to slow down your fall at the last second, then he chased the Dementors away, and he brought you here. You've been unconscious for the last half-hour."

Despite seeing how painful it seemed for his mother to talk about it, Harry said nothing. He remembered the Dementors, gathered on the pitch, instilling cold everywhere. And the screams. The horrible screams.

"I heard you," he blurted out, without thinking. His mother looked at him with an uncertain gaze. Then the words came out of his mouth. "I hear you… The night Dad died… Every time the Dementors are close… That's what I hear… I hear you screaming at Voldemort that night…"

For a moment, she just looked at him, her face expressionless. Unlike what he told Remus, he didn't write to his mother about everything that happened with the Dementor. He did inform her about his faintness, but not about what caused it. She blinked her eyes once, twice… Harry noticed her lips quivering. Then slowly, she let herself fall on a chair next to his bed. She looked away from him, and closed her eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me?" These weren't the words he was expecting from her. "You said that you were fine after the Hogwarts Express. Why didn't you tell me about this?"

He was at a loss of words. Why he didn't tell his mother? Well, probably because he didn't want her to worry too much. After all, he did get better very fast after his first meeting with a Dementor. Did he have to give her all the details? What use would it have been to tell her he heard what happened the night his father died? And truth be told, despite Remus' reassurances, he didn't feel comfortable talking about the effect Dementors had on him. He was almost the only one to faint in their presence.

"Look, let's forget about this," his mother then said. She stood up and looked down at him. "Stay away from the Dementors."

"You think I get close to them on purpose? You think I like what's happening when I'm near them?" he asked, angry flaring inside of him.

"Of course not!" Harry was almost slapped against the mattress by the snapping of his mother. "Just… stay far from them. That's all." She sighed, and continued on a softer tone, though Harry could still perceive that she was on the edge. "Look, Madam Pomfrey will keep you here for the rest of the weekend, to make sure you're fine. You do as she tells you. Okay?"

He nodded. His mother looked away, and she tried to sound more calm when she spoke afterwards. "I'm sorry, Harry. Look, you were not the only one to be affected by the Dementors today. Everyone was." She sighed again, and continued to speak before Harry could place a word. "Your friends are waiting outside the infirmary. I suppose you want to see them?"

"Well… yes, I do," he replied mechanically.

"Okay, I'll leave you with them. I'll come back to see you later."

Harry didn't want his mother to go, but he found nothing to say. The words remained stuck in his throat. A moment later, she opened the door of the infirmary and let his friends and teammates from the Gryffindor team get in, leaving him with them.

Although Harry was glad to see Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, Angelina, Alicia and Katie, he only devoted half his attention to the conversations that followed. He learned from them what he didn't ask his mother, that they lost the game. Cedric Diggory caught the Snitch while he was falling to the ground. A huge stone seemed to fall in his stomach as he realized that, for the first time, he didn't catch the Golden Snitch. Comforting words from his friends didn't really succeed in lifting up his spirits, no more than the conjectures about whether they still had a chance to win the Quidditch Cup, as he was still thinking about the discussion he just had with his mother. You were not the only one to be affected by the Dementors today.

His friends remained with him for a very long time. Only Oliver wasn't there, apparently still in the shower. Still, after two hours, they all left to take a well-deserved shower as well, and his mother came back.

"So, you had a good time with your friends?" she asked him. Harry noticed she was forcing herself into some sort of cheering attitude.

"Yes," he assured her.

They both remained speechless for some time. Harry burned to ask her questions about what happened that night twelve years ago, to discuss about what he heard happen. But Harry knew better than anybody how hard it was for his mother to speak about his father, about his death, and especially about the events that took place the night Harry got his scar. So he said nothing.

"I talked with Professor Dumbledore. He assured me that he would put into place additional measures to ensure that the Dementors would not come back on the school grounds," she told him. "Today's events will not happen again."

Harry didn't feel like she believed it herself.

"Why did they have to come to the match?" he asked out of frustration.

"They're probably getting hungry. The Dementors feed on our happiest memories and feelings, and these ones have been left without people to feed on for months now. I guess that for them, this match of Quidditch was a feast," his mother replied, almost spitting in disgust.

Harry looked at her. "Mom, please. Don't tell me to stop Quidditch."

His mother looked at him with tight lips. "I'm not going to lie, Harry. This thought has crossed my mind. But I won't. However, if there's another accident like that, I'm sorry, I'll have to put an end to all this. I cannot let you participate to Quidditch games if you almost die of it. I know how much you love this sport, but I love you way more than any trophy you might win."

Harry was touched by his mother's words, and he understood what she meant, but he couldn't imagine giving up on Quidditch.

"What if I could fight off Dementors? There must be ways. Remus managed to chase one on the Hogwarts Express," he said almost pleadingly.

"He chased off one Dementor, Harry. One that wasn't even focused on him. It's very advanced magic, far over the level you're at. I'm sorry. For now, you must rely on your teachers. They're best placed to protect you. I already talked with Remus. Don't be surprised if he keeps a closer eye on you."

Harry wanted to protest against this, but he knew it would be futile. He said nothing further, and some time went on before his mother talked again.

"Oh, Harry, I forgot to tell you something." She approached him, and this time she really looked sorry. "When you fell off your broomstick, it continued on his route, and… It ended in the Whomping Willow." Harry's heart was caught up in his throat. "I'm sorry, Harry. It's been destroyed."

"No, that can't be."

She knelt and took something under his bed, a bag that she emptied on his legs. A dozen broken parts of what had been his Nimbus Two Thousand fell on his covers. Harry looked at it in desperation. He seized what had been the extremity of the handle, where the golden letters Nimbus Two Thousand still appeared.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I'll buy you another one. I promise."

Despite his mother's promise, Harry couldn't help but feel destroyed at the realization that he lost his broom. His mother gave it to him when he was chosen on the Quidditch team in his first year. He didn't see how another broom could replace this one.

They talked a little more after that, his mother bringing him to speak about his classes, but Harry only provided very short answers. He wasn't interested to speak, not after everything that happened today. His mother finally left him alone and went out of the infirmary, making him promise to write to her very soon.

The rest of the weekend proved to be just as depressive. Harry was stuck inside the infirmary with the remains of his Nimbus Two Thousand. He refused to let Madam Pomfrey throw it away. He kept thinking about the defeat they suffered, about the Dementors and his mother's screams that kept coming back to his mind, about the loss of his broomstick.

His mother left him late in the afternoon on Saturday. The only visitor he got afterwards was Ginny. Harry was surprised to see her, and truth be told, it would probably have been better that she never came. Ginny was already very awkward around him, and Harry was definitely not in a physical or psychological state to have a good conversation with her. Not that he was rude or unkind to her in any way, but he just didn't want to speak to anybody. Anyway, Ginny didn't manage to say anything meaningful. She just mumbled that she wished he would recover quickly, and she quickly placed a card on his bedside table before she almost ran out. Harry wished he could have done something to make her feel better, but the truth was he didn't have it in him for now. He remembered that he asked Wood again, at the beginning of this year, whether there would be selections for reservists, but his captain said he preferred to focus on the very good team they already had, while keeping the list of reservists he already had from past years' trials. Harry had not forgotten how Ginny liked flying, and how interested she was in Quidditch. This was one thing he couldn't miss about her. However, it seemed she would have to wait yet another year before she had a chance to play for the team.

The card ended up being quite bothering. It sang with a very strident voice whenever he opened it, and it was hard to close it. He had to put it under his bowl of fruits in the end. He also received yellow flowers from Hagrid, which he initially mistook for cabbages, but he had to admit they made for a funny sight at least.

The whole team also came back to see him during Sunday morning. This time, Oliver Wood was with them.

"I don't blame you for the defeat, Harry. Really, I don't. You're… It's not your fault."

His voice sounded like it came from a dead person as he spoke, and he didn't speak much. Fred and George did most of the conversation, while Ron and Hermione, along with the girls from the team, especially Katie, tried to cheer him up. His two best friends remained next to him almost the whole day, but they couldn't take their breakfast, their lunch or their dinner with him. Hermione also went to the library sometimes, as she had the good idea of doing their homework with Harry at the infirmary and required to borrow additional books from time to time. Ron grunted against this, but Harry accepted. In the end, it was somewhat a good idea, since he got to think about something else than Saturday's events.

To Harry's surprise, he got several visits that day, and from people he never expected it. One of them was Cedric Diggory, who showed up during lunch, while Harry was alone.

"Hi, Harry."

"Hi, Cedric."

Harry tried not to sound harsh, but maybe it was inevitable. After all, the memory of the defeat was still very fresh in his mind, and despite the fact Harry knew very well Cedric Diggory had nothing to do with what happened with the Dementors, he couldn't help but hear a part of him blaming the older boy standing in front of him for the defeat they just suffered. The captain of Hufflepuff must have noticed it for he looked quite uncomfortable as he spoke.

"I won't bother you for too long. I just… wanted to tell you that I'm sorry for what happened. I wish we could do the game again, but… Madam Hooch just said no when I suggested it." Harry was already aware of that. Wood himself said the Hufflepuffs had won fairly. "In any case, I wanted to tell you that many people in Hufflepuff hope you'll be back on your feet soon. Most of us didn't feel like celebrating at all after the game was over. Not after we all saw you falling."

Harry guessed that Cedric had good intentions when he came, but if he hoped to lift Harry's spirits, he failed spectacularly. Perhaps it would have been easier if Harry could hate the guy, but the truth was he couldn't. Cedric had always shown himself to be fair-play at Quidditch, and Harry felt that he hated more the fact that he couldn't hate him and blame him for the defeat.

Cedric's words proved to be right all the same. Many Hufflepuffs, including Justin, Ernie, Hannah and Susan came to visit him. Hannah looked especially relieved when she saw he was alright, going as far as kissing him on the forehead. She even stayed a little while longer than her friends, and so Harry found himself alone with her while Ron and Hermione were dining in the Great Hall.

"How are you feeling, Harry?" she asked after Susan had left.

"I'm fine." They all asked him the question when they arrived, and he replied the same.

"No, I mean… How do you really feel? Don't just tell me you're fine. I know it can't be true." She wasn't wrong, but Harry didn't really wish to discuss about it with Hannah. "I was there when we faced that Dementor in the Hogwarts Express. I saw you back then." Bringing back this memory was not to make him feel any better. "I'm worried about you. You fell from about a hundred feet or so. We all saw you falling. We didn't even realize that Cedric had caught the Snitch before Madam Hooch whistled."

Again, other memories that wouldn't make Harry feel any better. "I'm fine, Hannah. I swear."

She kept looking at him. "What happened, Harry? Why… Why do you fall unconscious when Dementors are nearby?"

"I don't know," he lied. He didn't want to talk with the blond-haired girl about his mother's screams he kept hearing anytime a Dementor came close to him.

"I mean, it's so horrible when they're nearby. Even yesterday, I… I mean, it was already horrible in the Hogwarts Express with only one. I had the impression that I would never be happy again. But yesterday… It was just worse. If you saw Susan and Justin, they were white like sheets. I never saw them like that. I think Justin almost lost consciousness as well. I think he only managed to remain conscious because he sat down on the bench. He says he remembers things about his Petrification from last year. Things he couldn't remember before."

That wasn't something Harry thought about. So, there were really other students who were traumatized by Dementors. It wasn't just him. Of course, he knew that Ginny also fainted on the train, but… Even the others, they turned out unconscious later than he did, or they avoided it by a thin thread. Harry had no trouble imagining how traumatizing his Petrification had to be for Justin, or for Colin, or for anyone else. Though Hermione was Petrified as well, and she never fainted.

"And Sally… You remember her, she was sorted just before you? She says she remembers the death of her crup anytime the Dementors are around. And Megan says they remind her of the time she was attacked by a shark…"

Hannah went on, telling everything everyone thought about when the Dementors were around. Harry only half-listened to her. Hearing about the worst fears and memories of the others was not to make him feel better, and truth be told he found their worst memories quite trivial when compared to his. Who else could remember the murder of his father? Or the torture of his mother, right in front of him? They were wizards and witches of thirteen or fourteen. Their main concerns should be their homework or exams, the teachers who hate them, their friends, a Quidditch match, a game of Exploding Snap, the boys or girls they liked…

Harry looked at Hannah while she kept listing worst memory after worst memory. She seemed very agitated. He witnessed her in a similar state before, when she kept detailing the rumors and stories that travelled across Hogwarts. However, there were one slight different this time. Usually, babbling about these made her excited. This time, she looked worried. It was then that Harry realized how Dementors really affected everyone.

Hannah went on to discuss what the other Hufflepuffs had been doing in their common room after their victory. Apparently, the atmosphere had not been very cheery, like Cedric said, though Hannah reported that the team did get applauses and pats on the back and shoulders, but they were quite lukewarm, everyone still being under the trauma of the Dementors' presence. Hannah and her friends had spent the day discussing about it, no one really enjoying the victory they had. Hannah had ended her day with Susan at the library, Harry's other neighbor having decided to do some homework to change her ideas. And even then, the two girls kept talking about the Dementors and what they caused.

Hannah then went on to discuss what her comrades from her house did this morning. Harry got the impression that she didn't only report to him the events because she liked to talk about everything that went on in the castle, for she condemned the students who organized a more appropriately named party for this evening, to celebrate their victory from yesterday, the gloom from the Dementors being partially gone. She said it wasn't kind, and went on to say that although it was their first victory in many years, they shouldn't celebrate such a victory, which wasn't really fair since they were interrupted by Dementors, and no match where someone got severely injured because of this should be celebrated. Harry finally had to put a stop to her diatribe.

"Hannah, look. You won the game. Okay. You won it fairly. Even Oliver, my captain, said it. You have the right to be happy about it. You shouldn't hold yourself back because I happened to fall from my broom. You said it yourself, this is the first time you've won for years. You should try to enjoy it."

It cost him to say that, but it was the truth. It wasn't Hannah's, or Cedric's, or any other Hufflepuff's fault if Gryffindor lost. If anything, it was Harry's fault. No other player fell from his broomstick yesterday. And truth be told, when they thought about it, if Gryffindor had to lose against another house, better be Hufflepuff, where Harry had a few friends, than Slytherin, who were the sworn enemies of Gryffindor.

Hannah didn't get to answer to Harry's words for the door of the hospital wing opened as he was finishing his sentences. To a certain surprise, Lavender and Parvati came in. Not that he hated them, although they could get on his nerves by moments, but they weren't particularly close friends. When they came in, they stopped in their tracks for a moment when they saw that Hannah was there, but Lavender quickly walked towards her, a huge smile on her lips.

"Hi, Hannah." Harry got the impression that her smile was a little forced. Maybe he wasn't the only Gryffindor to feel somewhat angry at the Hufflepuffs for winning against them.

"Hi, Lavender. Hi, Parvati," she added for the Indian girl who stayed behind.

"Would you mind leaving, please? Parvati and I, we have something important to tell Harry."

Maybe this was abrupt. Though Lavender was known for being not well-behaved towards the others by moments. But Hannah took it well enough.

"Oh, well, of course. I don't mind." She turned to him. "Well, Harry, we'll see each other soon. Get better."

She approached Harry, but probably realizing she went in the wrong direction, she changed her path to head towards the exit. Harry watched her leave, noticing how Parvati looked unusually shy today.

"So, Harry, you're fine?" Lavender asked him.

"Yes, I am." By now, he felt a little tired of answering those kinds of questions.

"Good. Very good. Parvati wanted to tell you something."

She turned towards her friend, who had gotten closer to Harry, while remaining at a very respectful distance. She was still looking at her shoes.

"Harry," she began in a whisper, "I just wanted to tell you… I'm sorry."

For a moment, he didn't understand. "Sorry for what?"

"Well, for yesterday. I'm sorry we lost. And I'm sorry you fell. I think what happened is my fault."

Harry didn't understand at all. How could Parvati think that she was responsible for yesterday's events? It wasn't as if she had anything to do with their defeat, or the presence of the Dementors, or the fact that Harry made a long fall to the ground.

"You don't have to apologize, Parvati. It wasn't your fault," he said, not knowing what else to say. "There's nothing you could have done to change what happened during the game."

"No, you're wrong!" she burst. Harry almost jumped, and Lavender too. Parvati then started talking, much faster than Hannah just did. "Last week, on Monday… Professor Trelawney… We have a class of Divination every Monday…"

"I know. Ron and Hermione have it too," he placed, but Parvati barely seemed to have heard him.

"She took me aside when the lesson was over. She said she had something to tell me. And she said… that dark clouds were gathering over us… that a black sea was going to engulf us very soon… that a lightning would fall… and that everyone would be silent when it would happen."

Harry was speechless for a moment. Of everything, he didn't expect Parvati to tell him about some kind of weird prophecy Professor Trelawney said. Ron had very few good words about her, and Hermione had none at all, which was very unusual from her as she had esteem for every professor, even Snape.

"Don't you get it, Harry?" She was now looking at him, distressed. "The dark clouds? It's the bad weather we had recently. The black sea? It was them! The Dementors! They're the black sea that engulfed us. First, I thought she was only talking about the weather, but then after you fell, I remembered. Your scar. A lightning that falls. She was talking about you. Everyone was silent after you fell to the ground. She predicted what was going to happen."

Harry wasn't really sure how to react to this. As far as he could tell, Professor Trelawney only seemed to have predicted a bad weather, which wasn't very difficult when you knew that Muggles had radar stations and instruments that allowed them to predict the weather with some precision, even if it wasn't always accurate.

"Parvati, maybe she was only talking about the storm," he suggested.

"No, she was talking about your fall, for sure. If I had told you, maybe we could have avoided it," Parvati said. "Maybe all that wouldn't have happened."

Harry uselessly looked to Lavender, seeing if he could get any support from her, but she obviously was of the same opinion than Parvati. Harry knew that both girls revered the Divination teacher, and that both, especially Parvati, took her predictions very seriously, despite the fact Parvati was promised an atrocious death.

"Okay… Parvati," he began, "even if you had told me, I don't think we could have guessed that she was talking about Dementors showing up during the game and me falling to the ground. I mean, how could we guess what would happen? Her prediction was just too vague."

"Maybe, but still," Parvati said, "I feel guilty. I just wanted to say that I'm sorry, Harry."

He sighed. "Well, thanks." He guessed that was all he could say. He saw some people, especially Hermione, try to convince Parvati to not take too seriously the predictions of Professor Trelawney, and he doubted he would have any more success.

The two girls left no long after, and Harry thought it was probably for the better. Again, he didn't despise Parvati and Lavender, but he didn't want to go through lengthy conversations about Trelawney's predictions or gossips. He already had Hannah today for that, and she was more bearable than Hermione's roommates.

When Ron and Hermione came back later and he told them what Parvati told him, Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed in exasperation, without any surprise.

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Next chapter: another Quidditch game