The next morning, I didn't go to breakfast with Hermione. I asked her not to tell the boys about Vivian yet, especially Harry. Hermione pondered for a moment and said, "I think it would be better if you told him yourself."

"I... don't want to tell him for the time being," I mumbled as I rummaged through the wardrobe for another robe. "Of course he has the right to know. Vivian was a gift he gave me... I will tell him, but I want to calm myself down for a few days first."

"Harry won't blame you," Hermione said, as if she could see through what I was thinking. She slung her schoolbag over her shoulder, which seemed to hold countless notebooks. "You're worried about that, aren't you?"

She patted me on the shoulder and left first. I held up my spare robe and then remembered that there were cobwebs on it that couldn't be cleaned off no matter what. I got them when I lost my temper and emptied my luggage in the hallway at 12 Grimmauld Place. I'd actually forgotten about it all this time. But if I didn't go out soon, I'd have to go to Charms and Transfiguration classes on an empty stomach. So I quickly put on the robe, praying that the white cobwebs weren't too conspicuous.

On my way to breakfast, I met Filch. He was hobbling down the corridor, viciously scolding the younger students who were running in a hurry for fear of being late. Mrs. Norris was crouching beside him, her tail coiled into a small circle around her paws. I suddenly thought of yesterday evening. It was after seeing Filch that Vivienne turned around and flew into the heavy rain. The scattered feathers on her body and her severely injured claws made it look as if she had been roughly grabbed. Who would want to catch a letter - delivering owl?

"What are you doing?" Filch snorted as he came over. "Not going to class. What mischief are you up to here?"

"My owl is dead," I said word by word, narrowing my eyes to observe the expression on his face. "It was tortured before it died. Someone tried to grab the letter it was delivering to me. I'm wondering who that person is."

The sagging flesh on his face twitched a few times, and he opened his mouth, revealing yellowed teeth. "I think it was just bad luck on its part."

"Is that so?" My gaze shifted to Mrs. Norris, who was meowing and approaching him. "I don't think so. I hope the person who did this will pay the price."

"What do you mean?" The veins on his temple throbbed vigorously. He picked up Mrs. Norris in his arms. "Don't you think Hogwarts is still a place where you students can do whatever you want? Professor Umbridge will discipline your actions well, even if you're a professor's daughter—"

"I didn't say anything," I looked coldly into his fierce eyes. "Why are you panicking?"

His lips wriggled comically for a few times, then he turned around and hobbled away, continuing to shout at other younger students.

The fifth - year courses didn't leave students much time to immerse themselves in their emotions. After dizzily finishing a series of tasks in the Charms class, no one was in the mood to talk much. We just silently lined up and entered the Transfiguration classroom. Umbridge was sitting prominently in the corner with her writing board. The moment I saw her, I could understand Neville's irritable temper. I was almost certain that it was she who had instructed Filch to monitor the correspondence between the so - called "Ministry of Magic pro - Dumbledore people" and their children. Filch's rough actions had caused Vivienne to fight desperately. Severely injured and frightened, it had finally strayed into the range of the Whomping Willow's attack while I was chasing it.

I stood there, staring at Umbridge for quite a while until Hermione nudged me and pulled me to sit in the back row.

"Don't do anything stupid," she whispered. "We have better ways... don't waste your time now."

Professor McGonagall's cold attitude towards Umbridge undoubtedly delighted everyone, especially when McGonagall, with anger, questioned Umbridge why she kept interrupting her teaching with her affected coughing. The students all smiled happily at the struggling rats in front of them, determined to perform well in this class so as not to let down the face Professor McGonagall showed to Umbridge. I was one of them. By the end of the class, Neville had actually made his entire rat disappear, and Professor McGonagall awarded five points to Gryffindor for this.

After class, Harry and the others stayed behind to eavesdrop on the conversation between Umbridge and McGonagall. I wanted to go back to the dormitory to get Draco's robe so that I could return it to him during the Care of Magical Creatures class in the afternoon. However, I searched around the Slytherin area but couldn't find Draco anywhere. I only saw Crabbe and Goyle moving through the crowd like giant balloons with no one holding them. Umbridge was talking to Professor Grubbly - Plank with a sickly sweet expression. Unlike McGonagall, Professor Grubbly - Plank didn't show obvious displeasure. She answered all the questions in a brisk tone, gently stating that she was only entrusted by Dumbledore to teach for two weeks and knew nothing about other matters.

"The number of students isn't complete," Professor Grubbly - Plank said, scanning the crowd with sharp eyes after the class bell rang. "Can anyone explain the situation?"

"Professor, Draco has a fever. Professor Sinistra sent him to the hospital wing after the Astronomy class this morning," Parkinson raised her hand to explain.

"Draco Malfoy?" Professor Grubbly - Plank frowned after looking through the floating class register. "I hope he can give me a note signed by Professor Snape in the next class. You're in your fifth year now, and every class is important. Today, we'll continue to learn about bowtruckles."

Today's class content wasn't too complicated. We just needed to gather around the long shelf - like table, observe the special actions bowtruckles took when catching woodlice, and record them. Umbridge walked around between Gryffindors and Slytherins, occasionally asking students some knowledge about magical creatures. Harry and the others pricked up their ears to listen for Umbridge's movements, and their record books were blank until almost the end of the class.

Umbridge didn't get any information about Hagrid from Professor Grubbly - Plank, so she asked Goyle, who had just narrowly avoided getting slapped by a bowtruckle: "I heard that some students got injured in this class?"

Goyle grinned stupidly, and Crabbe answered slowly: "Yes, scratched by a hippogriff. Draco could tell you the details if he were here."

"There's no need to ask him," Harry said angrily and loudly. "That's because Malfoy was being stupid—he didn't listen to what Hagrid said in class and provoked Buckbeak!" Neville, who was drawing next to me, shook his head and muttered, "Who was it that said I was too impulsive yesterday?"

"I think you might need to serve another detention with me tonight, Mr. Potter," Umbridge slowly turned her head towards the Gryffindor side, showed a gentle smile, and scribbled something in her record book. "Thank you very much. I'll go and talk to that boy to get the details. Professor Grubbly - Plank, you'll receive the investigation results within ten days."

"Very well," Professor Grubbly - Plank nodded and started to direct us to guide the bowtruckles back to the branches where they lived. Umbridge turned around and walked across the lawn towards the castle.

I wasn't sure if Draco was still in the hospital wing, but I decided to go there after class to return his robe to him. If he wasn't there, I could ask Madam Pomfrey for some more Murtlap essence, so it wouldn't be a waste of time.

"So Rubeus Hagrid likes to show you highly dangerous monsters in his class, including hippogriffs, blast - ended skrewts, and flobberworms, etc.," I heard Umbridge's soft voice as soon as I entered the hospital wing. "Among them, the hippogriff seriously injured you, and the beast suddenly disappeared when the Ministry of Magic was about to execute it."

"Yes, Professor," I heard Draco's eager voice. I thought Madam Pomfrey had cured his fever because he sounded more energetic than usual. "Hagrid is also half - giant. If you're interested, you can read Rita Skeeter's report from last half - year."

"Interesting," the sound of Umbridge scribbling was clearly audible even through several layers of the hospital - wing curtains. "Thank you very much, my boy. And of course, I also want to thank your father for expressing his support for me and the Minister during the interview with the Daily Prophet reporter."

"My father has always supported Mr. Fudge's various measures," I rarely heard Draco speak in such a sycophantic tone. Both the content he said and this tone made me feel a bit nauseous.

"The Minister certainly remembers this well. He often says that without the support of your family, many things in the Ministry of Magic wouldn't go so smoothly," Umbridge giggled like a little girl. "I also hope you can help me just as your father helps the Minister, Draco."

At that moment, I truly hoped that he could reject this twisted woman, but I also knew what his answer would be. He said cheerfully, "At your service, Professor."

I turned around, not wanting to listen to their subsequent conversation, but Umbridge's soft laughter penetrated my ears. "Speaking of which, I've heard some interesting rumors. You have a rather close relationship with Professor Snape's daughter. Is that true, dear?"

After a thirty - second silence, Draco's voice came. "We grew up together."

"An honest boy," Umbridge praised him with a satisfied voice. "That girl trusts you a lot, right?"

There was an even longer silence. I was glad that Madam Pomfrey wasn't in the hospital wing at this time. I was hidden outside the numerous bed curtains, and Umbridge didn't notice my presence.

"Maybe," Draco replied.

"I think she should trust you very much. I heard that your fever today was also related to her," Umbridge laughed. "Young man, don't be shy about such things. Then answer me, what's her relationship with Potter and Longbottom like?"

"They're all from Gryffindor," Draco's tone betrayed no other emotions.

"So you mean it's quite good?" Umbridge said. "Then would you like to find out about their whereabouts for me, my boy? I think they're very restless."

"You're such a lovely and obedient boy," Umbridge said sickly sweetly. "I think your father must have told you that there will be more changes in Hogwarts in the future - the changes the Ministry of Magic wants. By then, those who have helped me will get their due rewards. I don't think you're content with just being a prefect."

Before I turned around and left the hospital wing, I heard Draco reply, "Of course. I've always wanted to prove myself to my father with something more honorable, Professor."

I wasn't surprised by his answer. Or rather, I had known what kind of person Draco Malfoy was a long time ago. But still, on that afternoon, I felt a huge sense of disappointment. This disappointment was not only towards him but also towards myself. I tightly held the constellation ball that he had picked up. Because of the cracks, it had lost the ability to display the star map, and the spell to restore it to its original state could only turn it into an empty glass shell.

"You have the web - weaving of Perses on you," a wispy voice sounded from behind me as I was hurrying towards the Great Hall.

I turned around and saw Luna Lovegood. She was still wearing those funny carrot - shaped earrings from the train. A tuft of her blonde hair was pulled up and tied into a small ponytail that stuck out comically on her head, making her look like a festive firecracker that could be set off.

"Sorry, what did you just say?" I wasn't actually sure if she was talking to me because she was now tilting her head up, staring at the empty ceiling.

"The web - weaving of Perses," she smiled and pointed at the cobwebs that my schoolbag hadn't completely covered due to my hasty steps.

"Uh, these are just ordinary cobwebs," I said, remembering the strange things she'd said on the train and trying to explain to her.

"Perses feeds on people's obsessions. It uses its web - weaving as a mark for hunting," she said as if she hadn't heard me. "People often mistake it for an ordinary cobweb, but it has a very obvious feature - it can't be cleaned off unless you let go of what's on your mind. Of course, it will gradually fall off as you let go bit by bit. I don't think you need to buy a new robe. It's already starting to fall off."

After saying that, she held her hands horizontally, tiptoed like she was dancing, and walked towards the other side of the corridor. The passing students all stared at her because of her strange behavior.

"Harry will miss tonight's training because of detention again. Angelina just came here and threw a tantrum. The others have already gone to the Quidditch pitch," Hermione said to me when I sat down in the Great Hall. She was the only one left, sipping tomato soup. "I had an idea today, about Defense Against the Dark Arts. I think we can't go on like this. I was thinking - "

"Can we talk about it later?" I saw Astoria Greengrass getting ready to leave the Slytherin table. I picked up my schoolbag and stood up. "Uh, talk about it back in the common room?"

"Okay," she looked a bit disappointed but shrugged to show she understood. "You go ahead with your business. But if you delay any longer, dinner will be over - "

"It's okay," I wrapped a few pieces of bread in a napkin casually. "See you later."

It was really not easy to stop Greengrass alone, avoiding her elder sister. After turning around the statue of the big - nosed wizard, I found that I had lost sight of them. Just as I was feeling annoyed, Greengrass poked her head out from the other side of the statue. "Do you want something from me, Miss Snape?"

She blinked her beautiful eyes and peeked behind me, as if she hoped I was with someone.

"I'd like to ask you to give something to Draco Malfoy," I took out a paper bag from my schoolbag and handed it to her. "Could you do me this favor, Miss Greengrass?"

"Oh, of course," she readily took the bag and tucked the loose hair by her right ear behind a blue - flowered hairpin. "Is there anything else?"

"No, thank you." I was grateful that she didn't ask me why I didn't return these things to Draco myself.

"Miss Snape," she held the paper bag, hesitated for a while, then made a small arc on the ground with her toe and said softly, "I was wondering... has he mentioned me?"

"Who?" Her last few words were so soft that I could hardly hear them. I watched as her face turned as red as if it were flushed. She shook her head wildly. "No one. I'm talking nonsense. I'll give the things to Draco. I have to go back, or my sister will suspect I'm wandering around... Goodbye, Miss Snape!"

In the evening, Hermione and I had been working on the new short essay assigned by Professor McGonagall. Hermione had now mastered the skill of making the crochet hook float in mid - air and do the knitting by itself. She no longer had to check every five minutes why the wool had gotten into a knot - if Crookshanks hadn't been constantly fighting with the wool by her legs, she wouldn't have to pay any attention to them all night.

I found that I couldn't focus well on my homework. Umbridge's droopy eyelids kept popping up in my mind every now and then, and then it was as if I could hear the sickly - sweet giggles she had made in the hospital wing this afternoon. After misspelling the word "vertebrate" for the third time, I dropped my quill and turned to Hermione. "What did you want to tell me during dinner? You said you had an idea."

"Oh," Hermione stopped writing in a hurry. She looked up at the lively Gryffindor common room - a large group of younger students were gathering around the Weasley twins who had just come back from training, curiously looking at something. She frowned slightly, then said softly, "There is an idea... I wanted to discuss it with them when they come back. I think it's a... really good idea."

I noticed that Hermione's eyes were shining brightly. She usually only had this kind of look when she talked about the "Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare". I thought uneasily that she couldn't be already dissatisfied with just liberating the house - elves at Hogwarts with knitted hats and socks, could she?

Ron and Taurus came back much later than the other Gryffindor Quidditch players. Ron looked as if he had just climbed out of a swamp. There was mud stuck in the fine lines of his lips.

"We might have trained too late. When he was going for the last ball, he didn't see the goal clearly and then hit the goalpost - and fell into a mud pit. I have to say it's lucky there was a pit below, otherwise he might have to stay in the hospital wing tonight," Taurus explained to us as he untied the small braid at the back of his head and shook the mud and water out of his hair.

"How was his training?" Hermione looked at Ron's back as he dragged his heavy steps towards the boys' dormitory. "Is it much better than at the beginning - at least a bit better?"

"As a friend, of course I'd say he's much better than his first training," Taurus smoothed back his loose hair with a bit of water, revealing his forehead. "But as a member of the Quidditch team... I hope he can be in better condition."

It was already midnight when Harry and Neville climbed in through the portrait hole of the Fat Lady. Only a few of us were still sitting in the common room. Ron had already fallen asleep with his face buried in the parchment and was now half - asleep, teasing Crookshanks. Hermione looked at Harry nervously, then at Neville. After making sure that the two of them hadn't quarreled on the way back, she let out a sigh of relief and took out two small bowls of yellow liquid. "Iris and I thought your hands must be bleeding badly. The amount of medicine on the stickers isn't enough. You might as well soak your hands directly in the bowls."

"Thanks," Neville said gratefully and sat down in the armchair by the fireplace. As soon as Harry sat down next to me, Crookshanks jumped onto his lap and purred. Harry smiled and scratched the soft, warm base of the cat's ear with his un - bleeding left hand.

"Are we just going to let this happen?" Taurus watched as Harry's blood mixed with the Murtlap essence, and the liquid in the bowl gradually turned orange - red. "Are we going to let that woman use this kind of corporal punishment at Hogwarts?"

"McGonagall will be furious if she knows," Ron said in a low voice. "You don't even have to say anything. Just let her see your wounds - "

"No," Harry said firmly. "I didn't even plan to tell you guys originally—"

"You were going to share this secret only with Iris. Dude, it really shouldn't be this kind of secret. At least pick a more romantic one—"

"Uh," I felt my face turn red, maybe because the armchair was too close to the fireplace. "I just happened to notice his scar by chance. Otherwise, Harry wouldn't have told me."

"We can't tell Professor McGonagall," Neville said in a determined tone, ending our discussion. "Umbridge is the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts now. She has the power to promulgate decrees. What if one day she suddenly passes a decree stating that anyone who has an opinion against her will be immediately expelled from Hogwarts?"

"An awful and disgusting woman," Taurus said with a look of disgust.

"She's a dreadful woman," Hermione echoed Taurus. Her eyes sparkled again. "Come a little closer, everyone. I mentioned it to Iris before... I think we have to take some action."

"Poison her," Ron said seriously.

"No... I mean, we can't learn anything about Defense Against the Dark Arts in her class at all," Hermione waved the book in her hand. "Just sitting there reading this lousy book won't teach us how to protect ourselves, will it?"

"In my lifetime, I never thought Hermione would call a book lousy," Taurus laughed lazily. Then, after getting a glare from Hermione, he sat up straight obediently, placing his hands neatly on his knees to listen to what she had to say next.

"But we can't do anything about it," Neville said worriedly. "Dumbledore can't drive her away either. Fudge will ensure she remains the professor of this course."

"Yes, but what if we think from a different perspective," Hermione looked at Harry and then at me. "I was thinking... what if we choose to—do it ourselves?"

"Do what ourselves?" Harry was a bit uncomfortable being stared at by Hermione. His hand was still soaking in the Murtlap essence, bleeding slowly.

"Well—we teach ourselves Defense Against the Dark Arts," Hermione seemed to force herself to say this sentence in one breath. "I know we have a mountain of homework to do every day—I know you've fallen behind on a lot of homework again, Ron! But listen to me, we need to get prepared. We know that things outside aren't as peaceful as the Ministry of Magic claims. We know what kind of dangers are waiting for us out there—we have to learn how to protect ourselves. This is much more important than finishing our homework. If we just let ourselves sit in the classroom and listen to Umbridge's nonsense for a whole year—"

"Are you saying we should find some curses in the library and practice them ourselves?" I tilted my head. "Like you guys did to help Harry last semester?"

"I don't think that's enough," Hermione twirled a strand of her frizzy hair around her finger, looking at Harry without any attempt to hide her intention. I thought I could probably guess what crazy idea was spinning in her head. "We need a teacher who can not only tell us what to do but also correct our mistakes in a timely manner."

"Professor Lupin?" Harry shrugged, clearly not getting the point yet. "But he must be very busy, and we can only see him when we go to Hogsmeade, and that's only a few times a semester."

"She's not talking about Lupin," Taurus patted Harry on the shoulder. "I think she's talking about you, buddy."

"What about me?" Harry asked blankly.

"I'm talking about both of you," Hermione let out a deep breath and looked at Harry and me. "Harry, you and Iris can teach us Defense Against the Dark Arts."

I stared blankly, my mouth open, wearing the same expression as Harry. I had guessed that Hermione might mention Harry, but I never thought she would include me.

"That's a good idea," Neville quickly expressed his approval.

"What good idea?" Harry twitched the corner of his mouth. He clearly thought everyone was making a not - so - funny joke. "I'm not a teacher. How could I possibly—"

"Harry, you saved me from You - Know - Who," Neville said. "And we all know how good you are at Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"It wasn't me who saved you. It was Mr. Crouch," Harry retorted dryly. "And Hermione always gets higher scores than me in every exam."

"Not everything can be measured by scores," Hermione said calmly. "You've done so many things, and we're well aware of your abilities, Harry."

"No, you don't understand—"

"You've saved Neville so many times. Remember? When we went to save Buckbeak and encountered Dementors the year before last, it was you who summoned the Patronus. Not to mention that you completed the Triwizard Tournament last year—"

"I didn't do it alone!" Harry almost shouted. "Stop talking about the Triwizard Tournament—I didn't complete it by myself at all. I was like a marionette! Barty Crouch Jr.'s marionette—he was secretly manipulating me to complete those tasks. You all know this. Don't count that on me—stop laughing!"

"But it was you who summoned the Firebolt from such a long distance and fought the dragon, and it was indeed you who dived to the bottom of the lake alone to save Taurus and Gabrielle," I said gently, trying to soothe him. "And you did escape from You - Know - Who with Neville. You got a lot of help, I don't deny that, but you also faced a lot of dangers on your own. I think they're right."

"Aren't you supposed to be on my side?" Harry stared at me with wide eyes. "You heard her. Hermione wants you to do this with me—"

"I heard her," I realized that they were all looking at me now. But in my mind, what appeared was the back of Vivienne flying into the vast rain. I took a deep breath and looked into Harry's eyes. "I think... we can give it a try. Hermione is right. We can't just do nothing. I know some spells, some that aren't in the textbooks... but I can use them. If there's a need, I'm willing to teach everyone what I know."

"That's different," Harry said in a low voice. "Ask Neville. This isn't about copying a bunch of spells in class and memorizing them to protect yourself. At that time, we could only stand there, unable to move, watching him approach us—watching others die to protect themselves. The next one should be ourselves, and then our friends. But there was nothing in our minds. We could only watch death approaching. Fear makes you suffocate. Everything happens in an instant—you have nothing but intuition. No one has ever told us in class what it feels like to deal with these things—"

"That's why we need you to tell us," I interrupted him. "Look, you've already started teaching us things that aren't in the books."

Harry looked up at the others. Hermione nodded. "That's what I mean... We need to know what it feels like, the feeling when facing You - Know - Voldemort. In this regard, Neville is also our teacher. We learn from each other what we lack. I said you and Iris should be the teachers because you really know much more than we do. Your father is the head of the Auror Office. And as for Iris, she probably knows more spells than all of us combined—"

"That's impossible," I felt my face burning. "I just know a bit more from my father's notes—"

"A bit was enough for you to cut through the Slytherin table in third year," Hermione summed up patiently. "I haven't forgotten the help you gave us with the curse list last semester."

"I trust both of you unconditionally," Taurus raised his hands. "Do I need to raise my feet too?"

"I'm willing to join too," Neville raised his hand. "I want to learn from you."

"No need to say for me," Ron grinned.

"Think it over, okay?" Hermione looked at Harry and me with bright eyes. "I know I brought up this topic rather abruptly... but, think it over."

She patted Harry on the shoulder, stood up, and walked towards the girls' dormitory. The other three boys also stood up, yawning. Neville mumbled that he was sleepy and rubbed his scar with his hand. I also wanted to follow Hermione to go and rest, but Harry reached out his left hand and grabbed my wrist.

"Is something wrong?" With only the sound of our breaths and the faint crackling of the fire in the fireplace left in the Gryffindor common room, he asked me.

"Why do you ask?" I subconsciously avoided his eyes. Thinking of Vivienne made my heart ache again.

"You're not the type to get involved in such things," his tone was much calmer than before. "So I thought you would oppose Hermione's proposal more vehemently than I did, but you didn't."

"I—" I felt my voice get stuck again. Those syllables seemed to have suddenly grown edges, cutting through my throat and making me taste a faint coppery tang in my mouth. I forced myself to look into Harry's eyes, which were now softly reflecting the firelight from the fireplace. He was waiting for my answer.

"Vivian," I heard myself say in a whisper.

"Vivian?" Harry said blankly. "Why bring it up all of a sudden?"

"It... died," I had thought I'd shed all my tears last night, but now they welled up again, wetting my face. "I don't want to shirk my responsibility—but I'm certain that if Umbridge hadn't sent Filch to catch it, it would have been fine. I spent all day thinking about how to avenge it. I even thought about doing something to Mrs. Norris... but then I thought, Mrs. Norris is just a cat, even though it's rather annoying..."

"I'm sorry," he seemed to have no reaction to what I said, sitting there in silence. I apologized to him in a low voice. "I seem to have always— I didn't take good care of the owl you gave me. I'm sorry."

I thought he would shout at me. He had every reason to. It seemed I'd never truly cherished the gift he'd given me. If he got angry at me now, told me he'd never give me anything again or that he didn't want to be my friend anymore, I would completely understand.

His right hand, which was in the essence, clenched into a fist, making the bleeding on the back of his hand worse. "I knew it. Something must have happened. But I didn't expect it to be Vivian. It was still so... It had just grown up."

"Of course, this is Umbridge's fault," Harry said in a tight voice. "If we're going to talk about your fault, then I could say it's because I never told you how to calm the Whomping Willow that led to Vivian's death."

"I want to do something... even just a little," I said softly. "You're right. If this hadn't happened, I probably wouldn't have agreed to Hermione's proposal. After all, I only know a little. But if this little bit that I know can change something, I'm willing to teach it to others now—even if it just increases the possibility a bit, so that they don't leave me like Vivian did."

"I'm sorry," I said to him again. He shook his head and looked out of the tower window. Through the window panes, a thin crescent moon could be seen threading through the thin clouds. In the quiet of the night, everything seemed so peaceful, as if last night's storm had been just a nightmare from which one could struggle to wake up.

"Then tell Hermione we've thought it over," the fingers that had been holding my wrist slipped down, and with a warm touch, he tightly held my cold fingertips. I looked up and saw a faint smile on his face, though mostly it was the exhaustion from the bleeding and pain of the wound. "Good night, Iris."