In fact, I could always vaguely hear some sounds. I felt as if I was holding an oil lamp in a blizzard, groping slowly in the pitch-black darkness. When the wind died down a bit, I could barely hear something – the sound of footsteps going in and out, rapid conversations in hushed voices, the crisp clinking of medicine bottles. But most of the time, my ears were filled with the howling of the strong wind, and I had to hold tightly onto the thick rope of the oil lamp so as not to be completely engulfed by the darkness. And when the wind finally gradually subsided, an overwhelming drowsiness enveloped me. I seemed to be trapped in one soft cloud after another, each exuding a different scent. It seemed that many people started talking not far away, but my tiredness blocked my ears and I couldn't hear them clearly. I also thought they were a bit noisy. Finally, I heard my mother's gentle voice coming from not far away. She told me that I could safely fall asleep at this moment, and all kinds of sounds finally faded away, leaving me alone floating on the calm lake and gazing up at the pitch-black sky.
Just as I was drowsy and about to let myself lose consciousness in the seemingly safe silence, I heard someone seemingly crying in a suppressed voice, like a wounded little animal howling while also being afraid of revealing its position, or like a child who had lost a toy sobbing while also fearing punishment from the adults. This sound was so familiar, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't remember where I had heard it before. I just felt a bit sad when I heard it.
Long, long ago, someone must have cried like this too, right? How did I comfort them back then?
"Don't kill me!" Just as I struggled against my heavy eyelids and lips, trying to make a sound, the crying turned into a terrified gasp. There was the soft thud of something being struck and falling to the ground, then I heard another set of footsteps approaching slowly.
After a long moment, an aged sigh rang out: "My child, that was never my intention."
Bells tolled in the distance—one, two, three… I thought I saw sparse starlight appear in the sky, but I fell into a deep sleep before the fifth toll. It was probably just a chaotic, unfinished dream.
When I woke again, sunlight poured in so brightly it made my eyes tear. The school hospital was quiet and empty. I tried moving my limbs, glad to find they were weak but seemingly unharmed. My mouth tasted of bitter medicine, a unpleasant blend that made me want to rinse it out, but when I breathed a little harder, my chest ached dully—no wonder the strongest taste was wormwood essence.
Madam Pomfrey appeared by my bed at some point. My perception of the outside world felt two or three beats slow, my eyes registering her movements and my ears hearing her voice slightly out of sync. When she poured medicine into a spoon and held it to my lips, it took me three seconds to realize I should open my mouth.
"You'll need to stay here one to two weeks," she chattered, efficiently tidying the pile of get-well gifts by my bed. "Lucky or unlucky… if that boy hadn't found the bezoar…"
"Was the poison in the wine?" I swallowed the bitter wormwood essence with effort. "Is everyone else okay, Madam?"
"All safe, except for the one storming around my hospital shouting… If I were you, I'd stop thinking about this now." Madam Pomfrey shot me a reproachful look, deftly pouring another spoonful of what looked like a sedative. "Calm rest is essential for recovery, Miss Snape. You're very weak."
"Harry noticed something was wrong less than half a second after you drank it," Ron chattered away to me when Harry and the others came to visit, clearly having recounted this to multiple people already. "Of course, I was out of it then… but when your wine glass hit the floor, I felt it too. Slughorn looked stunned—you'd already collapsed before Harry could rush over to catch you. Black blood was pouring from your mouth and nose, it was terrifying. Harry yelled at Slughorn to do something, but he just froze… luckily he remembered Slughorn had a bezoar."
I tilted my head to look at Harry, who had been silent all this time. Ever since Madam Pomfrey had allowed them to come and visit me by my bedside for a while, he had been sitting quietly on the stool closest to me.
"Aunt Lily came. She originally wanted to stay until you woke up at least," Hermione said softly. The corners of her eyes were red and her voice was a bit hoarse. "But that Scrimgeour kept sending owls. At least five owls from the Ministry of Magic came in the hour before she left last night... She went back after making sure you were all right."
I nodded, and Hermione quickly reached out her hand to hold my head still, not allowing me to move. She finally didn't mind standing side by side with Ron. "Madam Pomfrey said there's still some minor bleeding in many invisible places inside you."
It wasn't actually that serious. I felt quite energetic after a whole day. The soreness and dull pain in my body might just be caused by lying in bed in one position like a doll. I was just about to ask if they had found out where the poison had come from when my father appeared silently at the head of my bed, carrying a tray of potions emitting wisps of white steam. Ron and Neville jumped up as if they had been poked, and tried to lean against the wall as unobtrusively as possible, hoping to blend in with the wall. Hermione hesitated for a moment and also stood up. Taurus patted Harry on the shoulder, motioning for him to get up, but Harry didn't move.
"Just because my wife thinks gratitude needs to be expressed doesn't mean I feel the same way, Potter," my father said coldly. "Although you saved my daughter's life in time with the bezoar and prevented things from becoming irreversible, if it weren't for all the mess you caused, she wouldn't have needed to lie here suffering at all."
He didn't force Harry and the others to leave completely. He even tacitly allowed Harry to still sit there. He walked around to the side where Taurus and Neville were standing (I think Neville seemed to wish he could disappear suddenly) and placed the tray on the bedside cabinet. I turned my head with a bitter expression, already smelling several unpleasant scents that signaled my taste buds were about to suffer.
"I've added pickled plums," my father said with a twitch of the muscles on his face when he saw me burying half of my face in the pillow. He said sternly, "Drink it quickly."
He was lying. I didn't smell any sweet and sour smell that could bring a little comfort at all. The dark potion that was still churning tasted even more disgusting than it smelled. I felt like every cell on my tongue was screaming in protest. I didn't know if it was because of the bitterness and spiciness or because it was too hot, but my tears streamed down my face.
"This one has to be cooled to a semi-solid state before you can drink it." A huge silver shadow passed by the window of the hospital. I recognized it as Tonks' Patronus, which had suddenly transformed into a form with thick limbs. My father let out an irritated sound and pointed at the last bowl of turquoise liquid in the tray that was bubbling like magma. "Watch her and make sure she finishes it."
"Okay." Harry finally said his first words.
"I wasn't talking to you." Even though he said that, my father still glanced at Harry. Before leaving, he added with a gloomy face, "No matter how much she cries or makes a fuss, don't add pickled plums to it."
"I'm not a three-year-old little girl anymore," I protested weakly, annoyed that my father had exposed my embarrassing past in front of my friends. "And there aren't any pickled plums here at all."
My father lowered his eyes and looked at me for a while. Then he reached out his hand to touch my face, and then my forehead.
"Hey, we actually did secretly bring pickled plums," After making sure my father had left the school hospital, Taurus rummaged through Harry's schoolbag and took out a small package. "We heard your mother and Madam Pomfrey talking about it yesterday, and Harry went to the kitchen to ask Dobby for some."
"I think we should listen to Professor Snape at this time," Hermione confiscated the package that I was staring at longingly. "There must be a reason why he said not to add them. Maybe there's some ingredient in the pickled plums that will reduce the effect of the potion."
"Yeah, I agree." Ron nodded eagerly. Hermione glanced at him in surprise. "We still have something to do," Taurus blinked and said. "We have to go now."
"Oh, right, we do have something to do." Everyone except Harry nodded in agreement. Hermione carefully checked Harry's schoolbag. After making sure there were no sweet snacks in it, she was relieved and prepared to leave. Before leaving, she told me not to worry and that she would help me prepare the notes for all the courses during my hospitalization.
"It's not your fault," I whispered to comfort Harry as he let out a long sigh and reached out to hold my left hand that wasn't tucked under the quilt after the others left the school hospital. "If you hadn't thought of the bezoar, I would have died."
Harry made a funny sound, a mixture of a nasal sound and a laugh. He took off his glasses with his other hand and rubbed his eyes. "I'm still scared... What if you hadn't had that sudden idea to drag me to review those potion common sense?"
"When you were in your fourth year, you even planned to dance with me while having a bezoar in your throat," I blinked. "I think even without me, you would have remembered it then."
He finally showed a little smile and reached out to take the bowl of potion that had stopped bubbling and was starting to get thicker. By now, it had turned into a terrifying bright purple color, and my face fell instantly.
"Your father had a huge argument with Dumbledore. I heard it from Hagrid," Harry said as I frowned and rinsed my mouth with water.
"Why—because I was poisoned?" His words effectively made me ignore the churning nausea in my stomach. I felt as if I had just swallowed a hundred wriggling earthworms alive.
"This is obviously not an accident, isn't it?" A flash of anger crossed Harry's face. "Last time it was the cursed opal necklace, and this time someone gave Slughorn poisoned mead. Hagrid said your father asked Dumbledore how long he was going to let this situation continue. Hagrid thinks they're worried that the school will be forced to close because of the successive injuries to students, but we all know it's definitely not that simple."
I suddenly thought of the conversation between my father and Draco during Christmas. Harry said in a very dangerous tone, "I know who it is... We all know. I will definitely find something against him... and make him pay the price."
"Harry!" I felt a twinge of worry, but Madam Pomfrey had already rushed over and said that the visiting time was over and drove him away.
The next day, I told Hermione to keep an eye on Harry and not let him do anything reckless and stupid.
Fortunately, when Hermione came to visit me, she said that Harry was just carrying his Marauder's Map with him and was determined to keep an eye on Draco as much as possible. I noticed that besides worrying about me, Hermione had been in a pretty good mood recently, but she refused to say what had happened. It was only after I kept asking that Neville said blankly that Hermione had been normal recently, while Ron had been in a cold war with Lavender. It sounded like Ron deliberately didn't explain well why he had gone to find Romilda Vane at that time.
But it turned out that my worries were justified. A week later, during the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff Quidditch match, while I was leaning against the pillow, enjoying the bright sunlight and savoring the breakfast with honey that I was finally allowed to have, Harry, who was unconscious and covered in blood, was brought in on a floating stretcher, and Hermione, pale-faced, was following behind.
"Although I want to thank you for coming to keep me company, isn't the price you paid a bit too high?" It wasn't until dusk that Harry, who was almost wrapped up like an Egyptian mummy by Madam Pomfrey, opened his eyes. I sat by his bedside with my chin in my hand, directing his black-rimmed glasses to do a tap dance with the temple pieces on the bedside cabinet. After hearing me speak, he reacted for a while, first turned his head to look at the sky outside the window, and then raised his hand to touch the thick bandage around his head.
"You were hit by a Bludger and then crashed into the hoop, causing a skull fracture." I put his glasses back in place and returned them to him, but now it seemed he couldn't put them on. "Madam Pomfrey said you need to stay overnight and not exert yourself too much within a few hours."
"How much did we lose by?" he asked.
"Three hundred and twenty to sixty. I heard them say that after you were injured, except for Ginny, no one else could hold their ground." I felt a bit sorry seeing his eyes dim. "It doesn't matter. There's still the match against Ravenclaw."
He let out a hum and said slowly, "Before the match... I saw Malfoy walking with two junior girls. He didn't go to watch the match—if I had known, I should have followed him then. I—"
"Don't tell me you were so absent-minded and got hit by the Bludger just because you had this on your mind?" I felt a bit angry. "This is very dangerous! If it weren't for those two Beaters who caught you—"
"I want to catch him!" Harry sat up. Due to the pain, he reached out and covered his head. "He often disappears from the Marauder's Map. I want to know where he is and what he's doing. The next time he's about to hurt someone again, I'll catch him and send him to be with his Death Eater father! He must pay for all the things he's done!"
I didn't expect him to be so agitated all of a sudden. Madam Pomfrey rushed over and drove me back to my bed. She pulled the bed curtain between us tightly and cast a strong locking spell to ensure that we could only stay in our own beds honestly at night.
"Go to sleep quickly. If you both want to be discharged from the hospital on time tomorrow!" she said to us sternly. "No more talking!"
Until she was sure that both of us were asleep, she kept sitting on the empty bed opposite, flipping through a very thick medical book.
Harry was allowed to leave on Sunday, but I was required to have another thorough physical examination. I couldn't start packing my things until Monday morning. My bedside cabinet was filled with all kinds of small gifts given by different people during my hospitalization. The large box of jackfruit preserves from Slughorn had been opened before it was delivered, and there was a note attached saying, "I've already had the house-elf taste it in advance" (Hermione was very dissatisfied with this).
Under a pile of get-well gifts, there was a pack of pickled plums that I didn't know who had sent or when. There was no name card attached either. Hermione, who came to help me pack, threw it directly into the trash can without thinking ("Suspicious thing!").
"Have you made up with Ron?" I took a deep breath of the air outside the school hospital. I had never been so eager to move my body. I asked Hermione in a casual tone.
"Not at all." She pursed her lips and said indifferently. "He's just arguing with Lavender, not breaking up with her—still, what does it have to do with me?"
We turned into the corridor on the eighth floor. There was only a very small girl looking at the tapestry of the troll wearing a ballet skirt. When she saw us, she showed a very frightened expression, and the heavy-looking bronze balance scale in her hand fell to the ground.
"It's all right." Hermione said gently and walked over quickly to help her. "Here—Reparo!"
The girl stood there motionless, neither thanking us nor saying anything else. She just stared blankly as we walked past.
"But you seem to be in a good mood." I couldn't help but point out her duplicity. "Your mouth was still curving up when you were talking about their argument."
"That's because you're finally out of the hospital." She immediately reached out and touched her cheek, and said seriously, "It has nothing to do with Ron."
I turned around and looked at the little girl who was still standing in the corridor. I always felt that something was a bit strange, but if I didn't pick up the pace, I would miss more classes. Thinking of this, I shook my head and turned around to catch up with Hermione's steps.