The rain still hadn't stopped. All the way until dinner, you could still see the pitter-patter of raindrops on the Great Hall ceiling, though the wind wasn't as strong as it had been during the day.
Cohen bumped into Ron and Hermione while getting food.
"How's Harry doing?" Cohen asked. "Judging by the way you two are shoveling food down, he must be alright..."
Ron was just stuffing his face, and his good appetite was a good sign that nothing terrible had happened to Harry.
"Harry's still unconscious," Hermione said, "but Madam Pomfrey says he's not in any danger. He just needs a few days to recover. Why did Dumbledore take you away?"
"It was about Nicolas Flamel," Cohen said vaguely. "I might be going to France for the Christmas holidays."
"Mmph, haven't been to France yet..." Ron mumbled with his mouth full.
Hermione gave him a slightly disgusted look because it was rather gross.
"Let's go see Harry after dinner. He should be awake by now, and we can bring him some food," Hermione said. "He's only had a bit of breakfast all day, he must be starving."
"Hermione, we'd definitely starve without you," Ron said after swallowing his food and taking a breath.
Seeing Ron so calm now, Cohen figured he hadn't gone back to check on Scabbers yet – because the fake Scabbers had been manipulated by Cohen to run away at the start of the Quidditch match.
After dinner, they headed to the hospital wing with a big bag of roast meat and a goblet of pumpkin juice. Just as Hermione had predicted, Harry had indeed just woken up. They could see him from outside the ward window, just sitting up in bed and looking around.
"Professor Trelawney saying your inner eye is inaccurate must be a load of rubbish," Ron said admiringly. "How did you know Harry would wake up now?"
"Because Harry gets hungry, Ron. It's common sense," Hermione said. "Arithmancy is a lot more useful than Divination, and it's really interesting. I think you two should consider taking it as an elective."
"Nope," Ron refused decisively.
"Don't even think about shoving math into my timetable," Cohen said seriously. "Not even if you stick a magic prefix on it."
"You guys..." Hermione sighed.
They stopped talking about it as they entered Harry's ward, because he looked really anxious.
"What happened?" Harry asked urgently when he saw Cohen and the others come in together. "What was the result of the match? Why—"
[Remember the fastest novel website on the entire internet 101kan.com]
"The match was stopped," Hermione reassured him, placing the food for Harry's dinner on the bedside table. "It's been postponed until the week before Christmas."
"Dumbledore was furious," Cohen said. "His Patronus Charm was as bright as the sun—"
"Patronus Charm?" Hermione noted the name of the spell, planning to look it up in the library later.
"That's good..." Harry's worried heart settled down. "If Dementors show up every time..."
"They shouldn't be coming onto school grounds anymore," Cohen said.
Unless they wanted to be blasted away by Dumbledore's phoenix Patronus again, which definitely couldn't have felt good.
"Where's my broom?" Harry suddenly remembered, and his face instantly went white.
"..."
Hermione sensed that Harry might be really upset, so she didn't say anything right away.
But dragging it out like this was making Harry even more worried.
She pointed to a cloth bag next to the hospital bed.
"It ran into the Whomping Willow," Ron said. "Flitwick helped get it back for you... you know how that tree's temper is..."
Harry unfolded the cloth bag. Inside was his Nimbus 2000, broken into tiny pieces with damp wood shavings.
"Cheer up, you can get a new broom," Cohen said. "How about a Firebolt? The latest model just came out this year."
But it seemed Harry was quite attached to his old broom. He shook his head silently, not wanting to part with the broom he'd flown for two years.
"Oh, right..." Harry remembered something he'd seen before he passed out. "Remember Professor Trelawney's 'omen'?"
"Don't be daft, Harry," Hermione said. "You can't just connect everything that happens to you with an omen—"
"But I saw it again," Harry said. "Just before the Dementors flew into the stadium."
"I told you the omen might be real!" Ron said worriedly. "The other things Trelawney says might be fake, but omens are definitely real in the wizarding world—remember? Cohen saw an omen too, that's why the Dementors threw Neville over towards us—"
"Post hoc ergo propter hoc, spreading fear and chaos," Cohen said, wagging a finger at Ron. "Ronald, you're too superstitious – I'm with Hermione on this one."
Those Dementors were just trying to feed; looking at it that way, Neville was the one who should have been plagued by the omen.
Besides, what Harry saw was clearly Sirius Black – wait a minute, did Black actually come to Hogwarts? Didn't I tell him to wait near Hogsmeade?
## Look, You're Getting Anxious Again
Maybe he missed James too much and sneaked over to secretly watch Harry's match...
"Fifteen minutes!" Madam Pomfrey came in to remind them. "The patient needs plenty of rest!"
"I am lying down," Harry said quickly. "I'm already resting..."
"Eat some chocolate before you sleep," Madam Pomfrey said, bringing Harry two large bars of chocolate. "You'll have to stay in the hospital wing this weekend. Those Dementors are dangerous for fragile—"
"I'm not fragile," Harry said unhappily.
"Of course... you're very strong, of course..." Madam Pomfrey waved her wand, tidying up the clutter in the ward. "These wood splinters will hurt you..."
Madam Pomfrey wanted to clear away the dangerous items near Harry, as the wood splinters could easily pierce his hospital robes. However, Harry insisted on keeping them, so Madam Pomfrey had no choice but to leave them.
Cohen and the others left the ward. Visiting hours in the hospital wing were always strict, but Madam Pomfrey would usually relax the rules a bit if someone really wanted to stay.
Hermione chose to go to the library to read, while Ron dragged Cohen back to the dorm to play chess. His usual chess partner, Harry, was in the hospital, so Cohen was now the best option.
"Why do people invent a game where you lose as soon as the king gets eaten?" Cohen asked, puzzled after losing his third game of Wizard's Chess. "Can't the remaining pieces just elect a new king after the old one dies?"
"Because that's the rule," Ron said. "There's no game that's that free..."
It didn't feel as good as... the chessboard Edward had sent.
Cohen still preferred entertainment that was more hands-on, but unfortunately, Edward's production capacity was a bit low.
"I'm going to write a letter to Edward," Cohen said, feeling bored. "Tell him to step up his game a bit."