There was a familiar scent in Harry's sinuses as he came to… something sweet, but it was fading quickly from his mind as he tried to shake off the darkness. In its wake, a splitting headache grew inside his skull, and he groaned slightly as the pain began to overtake him.

He was lying somewhere, an unknown place because it didn't feel like the Hospital Wing… the distorted echoes sounded all wrong and the air was cold and drafty… those flapping sounds might be a tent?

More pain.

Harry opened his mouth to take rapid, shallow breaths and stop himself from crying out loud. His eyes were still closed, but he felt tears running down his cheeks. This was worse than anything he'd experienced before — way worse than having the bones in his hand regrown or any prior mental intrusions of Voldemort, for sure.

It barely made a difference, but Harry tried to force himself to just breathe, in, out, in, out.

What had happened to him? The last thing he knew was… he'd been flying?

His skin began to itch as he started shuddering underneath his blanket. It took everything he had to no start screaming. His head felt like it was being slowly opened with a hammer and a chisel by someone who knew the most painful spots within his nervous system.

The darkness behind his closed eyes was torn by erratic white flashes.

Suddenly, Harry remembered waking up in pain before, maybe just minutes or hours before now. He'd been covered in dirt, hadn't he? There'd also been something on his chest, something thick, or padded… his Quidditch gear!

Memories came back then, slowly and out of order.

Gritting his teeth, Harry tried to make sense of it all.

The Quidditch match against… the Slytherins? He'd tried to dodge Flint twice, but… no, that wasn't right, Flint had left Hogwarts years ago. The Hufflepuffs! Cedric was… also not there, dead, and it was all his fault.

Harry tried to swallow, but his throat was dry and another wave of pain wrecked his body.

Slowly, the match came back to him. Ron being out of action because of that stupid poisoning attempt… and something else, something hidden… oh, and that idiot McLaggen.

The Bludger!

His mind's eye conjured the image of something coming his way, fast. Something small, something dangerous… the Bludger, it was going to hit his face! Instinctively, he flinched and tried to dodge it, only to have his headache increase tenfold from the sudden motion.

Harry finally screamed as his muscles tried to rip themselves apart.

It was like a Cruciatus curse being cast at his brain.

Distantly, he noticed that there were other noises close to him. He was still screaming out his very soul, but that was an ongoing process that cruelly left enough brain space to observe himself being in such agony — and apparently surrounded by other people now.

He smelled different scents of cloth and leather, wood and hair, breath and… magic. That was magic, being cast close to him, he was sure of it. It washed over him like a pour of warm water, but it didn't soothe the overwhelming pain, it only added to the massive overload of sensual input on his mind.

His screaming continued, and he tasted blood in the back of his hoarse throat.

Then, thankfully, everything dissolved into nothingness.

The last thing Harry noticed was that something… no, someone was holding his hand. Strangely, it didn't burn at all on his skin.

~.~.~.o.~.~.~

"I know you mean well, Miss Granger, but you need to leave. Harry needs rest, and so do you. He'll wake up eventually and all things will be revealed."

A huff. "But Headmaster, we can't…"

"We did all we could to soothe his pains, Miss Granger. The rest is up to him, and to time."

"Alright, but I want to know if he wakes up. First Ron almost dies, now Harry, something is going on. I won't lose my friends, I just…". A sob.

"I understand, believe me, I do. I'll have Professor McGonagall contact you when he comes to."

Harry wasn't fully awake yet, but he was content to follow the voices along, let them gently tug him from his sleep. His head felt strangely sore, and as if it was filled with cotton. There was a terrible taste in his mouth, and his blanket was itchy.

He knew he'd been in serious pain before just now — less an actual memory, but a bone-deep ache in his entire body that he knew all too well by now. Feigning sleep, just to have another moment or two of quiet for himself, he let his memories tumble out of the dark and slot into place.

The Quidditch match. McLaggen's accidental Bludger, and then… pain, so much pain.

He'd crashlanded on the ground, hadn't he?

Gryffindor had probably lost that game, thanks to him.

And those headaches, worse than anything he'd ever experienced…

A deep, regular thumping suddenly filled Harry's ears. It took him a few panicked moments to notice it was his own heartbeat, and he listened to it with wonder, eyes still closed. Why was it so loud? He could hear an actual echo, at least from his left side where the curtain was opened…

… he was in the Hospital Wing?

For sure.

It smelled of medical potions and clean linens, and of Madame Pomfrey's robes, whose scent wasn't quite the same as typical Hospital gowns, but almost. Just how the bloody hell did he know all this?

Harry swallowed and noticed that his throat was less sore. He must've been here some time then, probably a day or more.

A crackling sound pierced the rhythm of his heartbeat, and someone drew in a loud breath. "You can open your eyes now, Harry, I know you're awake." A male voice, old and deep, and way too loud.

He winced and moved his arms across his face. "Please… don't shout."

"I didn't."

Dumbledore shuffled closer, each step thundering on the floor as if a troll was rampaging within the Wing. Harry winced again.

"Are you still having a headache, Harry?"

He nodded slightly. "It's manageable but, please, everything is so… loud."

A loud noise of rustling cloth, and something wooden that stirred between fingers. Harry didn't dare open his eyes, but he knew the Headmaster was drawing his wand. Then, another faint impression of magic on his skin, as if someone had lit a candle an arm's length away during a cold night.

Suddenly, a soft and silky blanket of… nothingness lowered itself around his senses and Harry felt a moment of vertigo as he imagined himself falling away from all the noise and smells, down into the floor and deep into the earth…

But he was still lying in his bed in the Hospital Wing.

Only that his blanket wasn't itching anymore, and his ears and nose were calming down.

Carefully, he opened his left eye and tried to adjust to the bright light. Then, with a slight groan, he opened both eyes and slowly rubbed his face. His fingers were feeling numerous tiny pockmarks and scars on his skin — his fall during the game must've been bad.

"Is that better?" Dumbledore's voice sounded almost normal now.

"Loads." He nodded, more eagerly this time, and finally turned his gaze to the older man. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." With a flick, the Headmaster conjured a stool and sat down to look at him. "Harry, you've given us quite the scare. Do you know what happened to you?"

He closed his eyes again as he tried to remember more clearly. "Cormac hit me with a Bludger during the game and I fell? After that, I don't know, other than that my head seemingly wants to explode."

Dumbledore hmm'ed. "It was indeed an unfortunate accident on Mister McLaggen's behalf that saw you fall from your broom. The Bludger split your skill, but a timely intervention by Miss Granger saved you from hitting the ground with full force."

Harry smiled. "I'll make sure to thank her for that."

"I'm sure she'll be very relieved to learn that you feel better." Dumbledore apparently ignored the fact that Harry had overheard their earlier conversation, which the man must've known. Harry snorted and then felt almost dazed as several half-buried scents came up in his sinuses. Earth, cloth, leather, and… that sweet aroma he remembered smelling earlier.

What was it?

The Headmaster, thankfully, hadn't noticed his distraction. "Miss Weasley's also tried to intervene on your behalf. She flew into you to push you away from one of the goalposts so that you wouldn't hit it. Maybe she's also worthy of receiving thanks for that."

"I will make sure." Harry thought about Ginny and something inside him hardened into a knot — before it vanished and left nothing but an almost disturbing… emptiness. He tried to conjure images of her freckles and her gleaming hair and felt deep fondness. But the image of himself asking Ron to give his blessing to Harry's pursuit of his sister suddenly felt like a foreign thought.

It was all wrong.

Harry grunted as he massaged his temples. He was getting sick of being so… weird and having to deal with all these sensations and emotions.

"Is there anything else, Harry? Why does your head hurt this much?" Dumbledore leaned closer now, as Harry felt the aroma of lemon drops and old skin growing stronger. "Are you having visions again?"

"No, it's not like that…" Harry stopped himself all of a sudden because the skin on his neck was prickling. Something was… off. Something right here, in his vicinity. He couldn't place it, he knew it wasn't an actual ambush or physical attack, but something deep within him urged him to guard his words now, to guard himself.

"To be honest, I don't know," he mumbled, not looking Dumbledore in the eye as he stared off into space and wondered why he could see tiny dust particles on the Hospital Wing's far wall. "It feels very brutal, like a Cruciatus curse almost, but at the same time different from what Voldemort did before."

He didn't elaborate on his hyperactive senses because he wouldn't have believed himself right now. And because that tight feeling in his guts was still present, causing him to feel vulnerable and alert at the same time.

"Do you see anything during those flashes you have?"

"Not really, just… noise at the edge of my vision. And memories from when I was hit and fell." That wasn't even a lie.

The Headmaster sighed. "I know your lessons with Professor Snape haven't exactly been fruitful, but I urge you to muster all resources you have to fortify your mind. It might be a different form of attack that Voldemort hasn't used before, or just now discovered."

"Yes, of course."

There was little Harry could draw upon from Snape's painful attacks on his mind to protect himself against… anything, really, but what else was he supposed to say? They had been over this enough times to drive home that nothing he'd say would dissuade Dumbledore from holding that greasy git in the highest regard.

"I'll leave you for the time being. Get some rest, the spell I cast will hold for several hours, so you won't feel so overwhelmed."

Harry opened his eyes again. "What was that spell, if you don't mind me asking, Headmaster?"

"Quietus Animus, a variant of the Quieting charm you know, only that it is cast at a person and soothes all their senses, not just sound. It can be cast wordlessly if need be, and the wand movement is almost the same as the Quieting charm's except that you end it with an S-motion, like so." The old man used his index finger to show Harry. "I'm sure you won't have any trouble mastering it, once you feel better."

"Thank you." Despite his current reservations, which he still couldn't explain, Harry was honestly thankful. If this spell would prevent him from having another episode, he'd stop at nothing to learn to master it.

"You're welcome, Harry. Sleep well. I'll inform Professor McGonagall that you can receive visitors later this evening if that's alright with you?"

He nodded again and watched Dumbledore go to exchange a few words with Madame Promfrey and then leave the Hospital Wing. As the door shut behind the old man, Harry stared at the doorknob and the fading impressions of Dumbledore's hands on it. Three fingerprints remained, standing out against the multitude of tiny imperfections and marks on the gleaming metal surface due to being so much more complex.

It was only then that Harry noticed he wasn't wearing his glasses.

He looked over to his bedside table and experienced another bout of vertigo as his vision fell apart like a kaleidoscope and everything began tumbling. Holding himself upright on the bed with both hands, he tried to draw deep breaths as his vision blurred and refocused a few times before he was able to finally look at his glasses, lying on the small table just an arm's length away.

What was going on?

How was he able to see anything, without his glasses, and at such a distance?

Dust particles and fingerprints? Really?

And how much worse would this have been without Dumbledore's charm that still covered his very being and smoothed out all his impressions?

Harry slowly lowered himself back onto the mattress and stared at the ceiling — thankfully not seeing more than he should right now. His head was spinning as he tried to make sense of his current state of being.

McLaggen had a lot to answer for, really.

~.~.~.o.~.~.~

"Hermione." Ron nodded awkwardly as he sat down at the Gryffindor table for dinner. He'd come alone — Lavender, who'd arrived earlier, was whispering furiously with Parvati while shooting him dirty looks.

Hermione looked at him, then at her classmates, then rolled her eyes. She didn't respond but continued. Beside her plate was a quill on top of a small sheet of parchment, yet to be filled with notes.

"Good thing Harry is okay, right?" Ron glanced at her from the corner of his eye as he heaped food onto his own plate. "If only he'd managed to grab the Snitch or something, that would've been…"

"Would've been what, Won-Won?" Her icy voice caused some of their housemates to shuffle away.

The redhead blushed. "Nothing."

Hermione huffed. "That's what I thought. This stupid game."

"Are we talking again?"

She stared at him. "That remains to be seen."

"Great." Ron snorted. "I just can't win with you, or anyone, these days."

"You have just yourself to blame." She squared her jaw as she stared at him. "All of this…"

"All of what?" Ron tried to remain quiet but his furious stage-whispering drew quite a bit of attention now. "Getting death glares and a cold shoulder? I'm kinda used to that by now, as is Harry."

Hermione's cheeks grew hot. "I don't have a problem with Harry."

"Are you sure?" Ron motioned with his spoon between them. "Ever since he picked up that Potions book, you've been hounding him, or bitten his head off for the smallest things. Well, his and mine."

"I… " She wanted to argue his point, but in her gut, Hermione knew that — against all odds, or rather her expectations — Ron was right for once. She'd been somewhat irritable as of late, her ire not just reserved for the idiot in front of her.

"Granger at a loss for words? Can someone punch me, please? This isn't right." Seamus grinned at Neville, who just blushed.

Ron, surprisingly, didn't acknowledge his mate's comment but continued to look at Hermione.

Something unspoken between them, something that'd simmered for weeks, months even, shifted. Both felt it, and both knew the other one felt it as well — their eyes were locked onto each other.

Finally, Hermione sighed. "Okay. Let's… table this, whatever it is, for now."

"You're worrying about Harry."

"Of course I do!" She pushed her plate away, not feeling hungry anymore. "I worry constantly. Not just about him, but yes, mostly about Harry because he always finds himself in these ridiculous situations where his life is in danger."

Ron leaned closer. "It was an accident, Hermione, not a conspiracy. McLaggen can't play for shite, that's it."

"Hear, hear", Ginny grumbled a few seats away, causing current and former members of the Quidditch team to nod.

"Language, Ron!"

"It's true."

She sighed again. "I know it wasn't a nefarious plot, at least this time." Her gaze bored into Ron. "Unlike with you. That potion incident was… too much. I thought you… " She stopped.

"I'm still here." Ron's wry smile looked eerily similar to the one Harry loved to use when making self-deprecating comments.

"I still hear him screaming," Hermione said, watching his reaction. "I've never heard him be in pain like that, Ron."

Ron blanched slightly. "Me neither. It was like a Dementor, or something worse, was going at him."

"This is why I worry."

They stopped talking for a moment.

Ron glanced at Lavender and saw that she was still giving him the evil eye. Hermione was scribbling something on her piece of parchment, stopping only occasionally to look over Ron's shoulder a few times.

"Something happening?" He didn't turn around.

"Malfoy." She made another note. "I… I'm not sure why, but somehow I feel as if… don't you dare laugh."

Ron shook his head.

"Maybe Harry was on to something, after all. It came to me when I left the Hospital Wing earlier because I'd seen him going up the Grand Staircase."

"So?" The redhead gave her a confused look, then glanced over his shoulder to the Slytherin table, where the blonde ponce was sitting alone, away from his housemates.

"I might have borrowed the map when I got back to Gryffindor Tower", she whispered back. "And I didn't find his name on it."

"Oh, please, not you too." Ron threw his spoon away. "Hermione, no. Why?"

She shrugged. "Honestly, I can't really explain it. It felt like I'd been missing something, and have so for a while now, and I thought trying to see if Harry had a point after all would… be that missing thing? I don't know."

"That sounds a bit weird, even for you." Ron raised an eyebrow.

"You're one to talk, Won-Won."

Suddenly, Lavender's voice cut through their discussion. "What is it with her now, Ron? What?" The blonde was standing now, pointing a finger at them. "What is going on with you two?"

Hermione cradled her head in her hands. "I can't deal with this right now."

Ron blushed furiously instead and stared at his sort-of girlfriend. "Err… hey, Lav."

"Oh please." Ginny rolled her eyes as the rest of the Gryffindors snickered.

~.~.~.o.~.~.~

Harry was dozing in the quiet of the Hospital Wing when he heard footsteps.

Not heavy ones, but light. Somehow, he knew it was a female person. There was a familiar scent in his nose, something that smelled warm and sunny…

Ginny.

He'd figured out by now that his senses were indeed hyperactive. If it was a phase, it seemed to continue for the time being. He didn't know how, or why, just that even with the Charm on him he was able to sense... almost everything. Furthermore, he'd already recast the spell twice, figuring out the correct wand movements on the third try — and yet he knew that Ginny would enter the Hospital Wing within ten or so seconds. So it's effects didn't seem to overlap for increased sensory deprivation, which was a bummer.

It also didn't cover all his senses equally well. His vision was still operating on superhuman levels it seemed, but his sense of touch felt pretty normal right now.

But how much worse would his situation be without Quietus Animus? He couldn't cover his senses like that for the rest of his life now, could he?

Still, Harry was hesitant to talk about this new condition of his — and he still didn't know where this deep-seated suspicion actually came from. Only that he felt it so deep within his thoughts and his flesh that he couldn't help but follow his instinct.

When Ginny opened the doors, he breathed in.

Her heartbeat was fast, and her scent washed through the Hospital Wing, being very noticeable now despite the Charm dampening his senses. He looked at her as she walked toward him, not feigning ignorance as he'd initially planned. As she came closer, he could see his own reflection in her eyes, and also smell something other than her normal scent… Harry blushed.

This was really awkward.

There was absolutely no need for him to know about her period.

He swallowed, trying to ignore that particular olfactory information.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Ginny sat down at his bedside.

"I'm fine." He smiled. "No, really, I know how that sounds, but I… I feel much better now."

She eyed him skeptically. "Uh-hm."

"Ginny… "

She shook her head. "You gave me such a scare, you know that?"

"I've been told you tried to catch me during my fall?" He watched her irises grow larger and heard her heartbeat increase even more. She really felt agitated, or nervous, or both.

"Yeah, but it didn't work, my angle was all wrong." She grabbed his blanket and kneaded it with both hands, probably only being half-conscious of what she was doing. "I saw you fall after McLaggen hit you and everyone screamed, and I thought if I could get underneath you somehow…"

Harry grunted. "That sounds dangerous."

"More than falling to the ground from your height with a broken skull? Yeah, I don't think so."

He shrugged.

"Anyway, Hermione slowed you down enough, so you didn't break anything else. Somehow." Her eyes found him again. Harry felt overwhelmed by the intensity, but he tried not to look away.

"Thank you," he mumbled awkwardly.

"You're welcome." Ginny smiled and blushed a bit. "Why did you look at me like that?"

"Err… what?" He had no idea what she was talking about.

"When I came in, you were staring at me as if you knew I was coming in. Your eyes… it was strange, I've only seen you look like that when we were fighting Death Eaters and monsters."

Harry swallowed. Was he that transparent? He needed to work on his poker face before people noticed that his senses were completely out of whack.

"I… I don't know, I just heard the door opening." He looked at his hands. "Sorry."

"It's okay, I just… " Ginny stopped and fiddled with her own hands now. "Promise to get better?"

Harry nodded. "Sure."

"Good."

"Does De…" He bit his tongue and stopped himself from asking about Dean. He didn't know why he was doing this, he didn't actually want to know what his roommate and Ginny were up to. "How are the others?"

Ginny was staring at him as if she tried to decide which question to answer, the unspoken one or the excuse he'd made. "Okay, I guess. After we took care of McLaggen, overall morale improved despite the game's outcome."

"I'm sorry about that, I really am."

She continued to stare, which made Harry squirm even more.

"Ginny?"

"Why were you screaming so much?" Her voice was a whisper now. "Hermione was beside herself, and she wasn't the only one. You sounded like someone was casting a Cruciatus on you, it was horrible. And then it didn't stop... you didn't stop screaming."

Harry sighed. "It felt like one, to be honest. Nobody knows." He felt the lingering suspicion and tension in his gut and decided to avoid telling Ginny the truth. At least for now. "Dumbledore suspects that it might be something Voldemort does to me."

"Does he?" Her eyes were fearful now.

He shrugged again. "To be honest, I don't know. I don't think so, but… yeah." His head was full of thoughts and feelings that were threatening to overwhelm him, and he tried to mentally banish everything out of his system. Also, he felt that as nice as having a visitor was, he didn't actually want to talk to Ginny but to Hermione, or Ron, instead.

Was that weird?

They sat in awkward silence for a few seconds before Ginny abruptly stood up. "I should go, I think."

"Okay?" He didn't feel anything, strangely, other than relief. "Will Ron and Hermione come visit me as well?"

She shook her head. "McGonagall said only one visitor this evening, and I was the fastest to say yes."

Harry groaned. Of course, they would isolate him, again. Not that he should actually complain, his current condition wasn't exactly conducive to lively discussions with several people at once, but he still felt annoyance. He desperately needed a sounding board, and a real conversation with someone he trusted. Well, really trusted, whatever that meant.

"I'll tell them that you're better now," Ginny offered shyly.

"Please do that."

"Sleep well, Harry." She looked him up and down, then turned to leave.

"Bye." Harry watched her exit the Hospital Wing. She glanced at him before closing the doors behind her, and he knew her eyes were wet. Was she actually crying? He couldn't tell but the thought made him nervous.

He was pants at situations like this.

But why the hell did it feel so different now? He liked Ginny, a lot. Or didn't he?

He must be missing something.

As her scent left the Hospital Wing in her wake, he cracked his neck and folded his arms behind his head to stare at the ceiling again.

Something was indeed missing, he just didn't know what.