Harry knew he was on a lot of pain reducing potions because he was staring at the ceiling of the hospital wing before he even realized he was awake. He blinked and the world faded in and out of focus, and he wasn't really happy to realize he knew the feeling of pain reduction brews already. He'd only been at Hogwarts a year, after all.
After lying there for a minute or so, he came to the conclusion he was also on a calming drought, because there was no earthly reason he shouldn't have been screaming right now. His last memory was…
Well, he winced, thankful that the motion didn't seem to hurt.
"Harry, my boy. It's good to see you awake." A voice Harry vaguely recognized pulled him from his thoughts that didn't seem to be going anywhere anyway, and was pleased to find he could move his head freely to find the source. It couldn't possibly be that he was better off than he'd been with the troll, right? Pomfrey hadn't let him twitch for hours after he woke up that first time for fear of him hurting himself accidentally, so it didn't really make sense why this time was different.
He shelved the question for the mediwitch herself when he realized who he was up against at the moment.
Albus Dumbledore was walking slowly up the aisle of beds in the wing, coming to stand by the foot of his bed and Harry very pointedly did not make a move to sit up or spend any energy to greet him. While he actually felt fine, probably because of the potions, and he couldn't actually get angry right now thanks to the calming drought, he was not stupid.
When he was off the potions it would be… difficult to keep his anger at this man at bay, so he wasn't going to get too friendly.
Ah… but I also have to play the part, don't I? He wants me to be the Boy Who Lived. I need to let him think that's who I am.
Well, he figured not making a move to get up was passive aggressive enough to get away with.
"Professor," he greeted, his voice a bit scratching but groggy enough that the headmaster probably interpreted surprise rather than annoyance in his tone. At least he hoped he did. "What time is it?" He asked, hoping to delay whatever it was the old man was here for at least a bit, trying to get his wits back at least a little right after waking up.
"About ten in the morning, on the last day of term. It's fortunate you woke up, or you'd have missed the closing feast." Dumbledore had a very kindly air to him, and his blue eyes seemed very… warm. But Harry couldn't help but think maybe the closing feast was kind of low on his list of priorities right now.
He liked treacle tart but he wasn't that bad.
At least that answer told him he'd been unconscious at least three days. Pomfrey must've kept him under then while she healed him, instead of letting him wake up to heal like last time. Still didn't know the difference but it explained that much.
"Although if you'd like a snack before the feast, it seems you've received some well wishers' gifts, many of which seem to be sweet in nature." Dumbledore continued, walking up the side of the bed to the bedside table and bring Harry's attention to the pile of gifts there. He immediately recognized some gifts and who probably sent them, and smiled a bit despite Dumbledore being here to be reminded of all his friends.
Right… friends. Despite the horror he'd just endured… he hadn't died and life had been good before that nightmare crashed down on him. He'd earned the trust of Slytherin and had good friends in all four houses. That hadn't disappeared just because all he could think about was that damn chamber… and it was comforting to be reminded of them.
"May I? I'm quite partial to sweets." The headmaster asked, and while Harry thought it kind of weird and rude, even he couldn't eat all those sweets so he just shrugged. He watched the wizened man pluck a jelly bean from a Bertie's Box and hum to himself as he tasted it… "Ah. Earwax."
Harry thought it decidedly deserving, but kept his expression neutral.
He watched Dumbledore place the box down and clear his mouth of the flavor, clearly about to get around to whatever he was here to talk about, but Harry decided he had other priorities than the old man's agenda. If he wanted to bumble around a conversation like he was just here to chat, then Harry could chat all he wanted.
"Professor, do you know where Professor McGonagall is? Do you think I could talk to her?" He asked as politely as he could, putting on his 'oblivious Gryffindor face' when the headmaster blinked at the random question.
He didn't pause long, but he did pause to collect himself and Harry did not miss that fact. "I am not sure at the moment. I'm sure your classes could wait until you've rested some though."
"It's not really classes. It's more transfiguration in general." He edged, still as polite as he could. He coughed a bit, and Dumbledore offered him a glass of water he happily took—again pleasantly surprised that he had full use of his hands and body this time.
"I am not sure I follow." He frowned.
"Can't I talk to her?" He hedged again like he didn't see the problem. "She's my head of house and I guess you can tell me what happened after I passed out later, if it's that important, but I really don't want to know to be honest." He made a show of shivering and the headmaster paused once more before his expression became kind once more and he nodded easily.
"I see." He raised his wand and a plume of white mist appeared, darting off and disappearing out the main hospital wing door and down the hall—towards McGonagall's office if Harry remembered correctly. "You should really be resting, though wanting a familiar face is understanding after that ordeal."
Harry read between the lines. Hagrid had told him that McGonagall was incredibly loyal to the headmaster—he probably thought having his deputy here would only summon an ally of his. He probably wasn't wrong, but Harry was also banking on the fact the Transfiguration teacher was also his ally too. And at the very least she wouldn't let the headmaster get away with toying with him while he was in a hospital bed, no matter if she actually was loyal to both of them equally. She was too much of a teacher not to.
"Am I actively dying?"
"Not at this moment, no." He seemed amused at this question.
"Then I'm good enough to talk." He said brightly, and the headmaster seemed entertained by his chipper attitude than anything, which was good.
Unbeknownst to him Harry's thoughts were a bit darker than that though.
Sure proved I'm pretty much always good to talk when I couldn't shut my mouth despite being actively tortured.
It was pretty hard to keep his face blank, and was starting to realize the power of a calming draught because there was no way even his own sarcastic thoughts should be so flippant about something like this. It had been torture, hadn't it? That… was what had happened. It just… refused to sink in, for some reason.
"Harry," He was ripped from his thoughts sharply by the headmaster who was still by his bed, and had a grandfatherly expression on his face that Harry instantly hated from the sheer concept that he assumed it was more patronizing than caring. The old fart didn't even know him after all, there was no way he actually cared like he was pretending to, so it could only be condescending and frankly Harry just didn't have the time for it. He didn't have a way of changing the subject suddenly either so bit his tongue quietly. "My boy, what happened in the chamber was indeed unfortunate. I wanted to commend you though, on your—"
"Mr. Potter!"
Harry's head snapped up, finally sitting up properly now in his hospital bed and grinning at his knight in shining armor—or professor in spectacles as McGonagall made swift progress into the hospital wing and saving him from this conversation. She was not running, but she was certainly hustling, and she must've been close by when she received the headmaster's signal because that hadn't even been twenty seconds, he figured.
Harry realized he shouldn't be grinning so openly though when she stopped at the foot of his bed with a huff and fixed him with a furious look that made him shrink back against his pillows slightly.
"You should absolutely be resting but it is good to see you awake! When you are well enough I will kill you myself for what you did." She scolded, though not nearly as coldly as Harry was expecting and he perked up.
"I am very, very sorry for breaking the rules of transfiguration but in my defense it was him or me and he very much wanted to kill me." He defended himself with his most innocent wide eyes, and she visibly softened. Only a fraction because she wasn't a very warm person to begin with, but even that slight relaxing of her scowl made his heart lift.
"I do understand that, to a point, but I am very disappointed you used transfiguration to do it. That was… exceedingly brutal."
Understatement of the year, Harry felt a bead of sweat form on his temple and couldn't help wincing a bit. You weren't even there to see it happen.McGonagall's eyes darkened at his reaction, but nodded once as if accepting it as her answer. "I won't say He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named didn't deserve it… but Quirinius didn't. Even if he was a traitor, it seems."
"Let's agree to disagree, Professor." Harry huffed petulantly.
"Mr. Potter." She scolded again, but with a lot less enthusiasm than normal. But, it did tell him that they already knew it was Voldemort, somehow.
He glanced at Dumbledore but decided against it, looking towards his transfiguration professor instead. "So it… it was really him? I mean I knew it was him but… how did you know?"
Her expression became neutral once more, and he wondered if she'd learned schooling your expression from him, or he'd perfected it by mimicking her.
"You deserve to know, I suppose, although you will not tell any of your fellow students." He nodded in agreement as she gave a sigh and continued. "Hogwarts has been protecting an important object all year after it was threatened in its original hiding spot in Gringotts. Hogwarts was deemed the most secure place after that, and we knew someone would attempt to steal it, but had hoped to leave openings and catch them in the act so they could face justice. We didn't realize they would make an attempt while there were still children in the school, nor that it would be one of our own." She seemed genuinely remorseful about it, and Harry believed her. He recalled upper years saying Quirrell only started wearing the turban this year—if she's known him as a teacher for years before he became possessed, she probably had no reason to suspect him now.
Also, despite not wanting to give him any credit, Quirrell had a good act going with the nervous demeanor and the stuttering. Even though he was bitter about it, Harry himself had been absolutely shocked to realize the quiet professor had been the one to turn like that. It shook him, and he could only imagine it'd shake her too, her having known him a lot longer and probably on a more personal level than he had given how often he'd skipped Defense this year because of the odd headaches.
He recognized the hypocrisy of forgiving McGonagall for not knowing while fully holding Dumbledore accountable for the same exact thing— and to be clear, he did not care.
"I heard you screaming but by the time I got there it was too late." She continued, suddenly looking extremely tired. "Albus, you were summoned to the Ministry on business which was apparently the moment he deemed appropriate to strike. I did call you back immediately however we didn't quite make the connection that it was related to this object we were guarding. Your mice though, might've saved your life."
"They lead you to me?" Harry perked up again as she nodded with a proud glint to her eye, and he cheered significantly even with the grim topic. Spare stones on the floor of the chamber… a simple transfiguration into mice and sending them on their way… it was a miracle neither Quirrell nor Voldemort had noticed, but then again they'd been pretty pissed off at his smart mouth at the time. Maybe they weren't so rightfully arrogant to leave him with his wand.
He frowned though, thinking it through. "How did you know Quirrell was possessed then? If you had no idea and just found us in that chamber…"
"It was… alarming, of course, but Quirrell was already dead and we'd known since I heard you scream that you were not a willing participant in whatever happened. Getting you help was our priority at the time." She explained calmly, which yeah, made sense he supposed.
"I arrived back from the Ministry an hour later and performed some diagnostic spells of the chamber to ensure everything that it was meant to protect was still secure. One of them turned up a rather vicious possession curse—or the remnants of what was once one." Dumbledore finally chimed in, and Harry blinked.
You couldn't have done that literally at all this year to figure it out quicker? Maybe make that standard procedure in a magical school?
He kept his face blank though. "And is it? Still secure that is. That object or whatever; it was a stone?"
"Indeed. Minerva found it on you and we have safely returned it to its owners upon deciding Hogwarts not so suitable a place to protect it after all. You did not break the enchantment, you accessed it properly—only those who wish desperately to have it, but not use it, could ever retrieve it from the mirror." He explained.
Again, that couldn't have been decided at any time in the past year? Why did you think a school was a safe place again, especially if you knew someone was going to come after it, much less that that person ended up being Voldemort!?
"What was it? And why couldn't the owners protect it from the start?"
McGonagall smiled wryly which Harry immediately interpreted to mean she'd asked the same question before, and now Harry knew exactly where to place the blame for this.
And the culprit was decent to answer him properly this time. "The object is a magical artifact called the Philosopher's Stone. It is capable of granting one immortal life, and turning anything it touches into gold. Truly a wonderful feat of Alchemy created by a dear friend of mine, Nicholas Flammel." Dumbledore gave a weary sort of trite sigh. "As you can imagine many people have sought this stone over time, for various terrible purposes. After this event I have spoken at length with him, and he has agreed that the best thing to do is to destroy the stone so that no one will be tempted in such a way again. He has just enough time to get his affairs in order before its power wears off, but agreed that it is time."
"What!?" Harry balked. "That's not fair!"
"They're over seven hundred years old, they've lived a good life and were agreeing to it." The headmaster attempted to sooth him.
"Seven hundred years and they need to die because a dark lord that's probably a blip on their radar? That is hugely unfair in every way. Can't they just make a new one, use it when they need to, and then destroy it again? Rinse and repeat? More people dying because of bloody Voldemort is absolutely unacceptable." He ranted, and while McGonagall seemed to bristle at his language, she also didn't seem to disagree either. In fact she looked to Dumbledore for his retort as he gave another weary sigh.
"Harry, you must understand-"
"Albus!" Once again he was saved from the headmaster's patronizing, this time by Madam Pomfrey seeming to realize one of her patients had visitors and coming up to interrupt them. "Ah, Minerva too. I'm glad you're concerned about our student here but he needs his rest! Harry dear, how are you feeling?" She waved her hands to get the two teachers to back off a bit and addressed him much more kindly than last time he was here. He smiled at her wryly.
"Like I'm on a boat load of pain reduction potions."
She blinked a bit in surprise before chuckling and patting him on the head gently. "You're a keen one, aren't you? Please let us not make this a habit."
"I'll do my best, Madam." He glanced at where McGonagall did not seem in a hurry to leave despite being dismissed. "As I said, in my defense it was self-defense."
Pomfrey's exasperated sigh at that matched McGonagall's expression.
"Just… sit still, alright?"
"Yes Ma'am." He obeyed as she waved her wand to perform some diagnostic spells.
"I am glad to see you well enough to be your usual difficult self, Mr. Potter." She concluded, eyes growing a bit dark as they scanned him with a medical eye. "You were not well off when you were brought in, but keeping you under for the last three days did some good. You will actually be cleared to leave in an hour or so once I've finished some things up, but I have some things to discuss with you first."
"Better or worse than the troll?" He was surprised by that news and she nodded his point.
"You were closer to death this time, but so far as fixing your injuries this go around was much simpler. Cuts and blood replenishing spells are easier than broken bones, and the complexity last time was your organs. No punctured or popped orangs this time, just a lot of cuts and bruises, no matter how serious they were." She explained calmly.
"Oh. Okay…" he agreed, not liking the fact she still seemed rather grim.
"I was able to treat your injures that first day, however I kept you under for another reason. You have signs of being subjected to a spell called the cruciatus curse."
Crucio, his mind whispered at him, and he automatically flinched. All three teachers seemed extremely grave.
"Y-yeah." He agreed weakly. If they already knew there was no point in hiding it…
"A spell like that can cause a lot of nerve damage, and ghost pains for weeks afterwards. I'm going to send you along with a regimen of pain reduction potions to take over the next couple of weeks at home, as well as a couple calming draughts. You don't have to take them, but they may help at times."
Oh no. And I have to go back to the Dursleys… this summer is going to be hell.
He nodded to her obediently and she patted the back of his hand soothingly, looking as if she was trying to sooth herself as well.
"I didn't know there were curses like that in the world," he admitted, not really sure what to say and a bit surprised when McGonagall stepped forward again with a stern expression.
"There shouldn't be—we don't tell students about magic like this until they're much older, but you of all people should know." Harry noted Dumbledore frown behind her, but with her back to him the deputy headmistress neither saw nor cared as she forged ahead. She'd spent all year answering his questions, and despite him not outright asking now, she seemed to easily slip into teacher mode again at even the hint of his wary curiosity. "There are three spells that are appropriately named unforgivables, and their use is highly illegal. The cruciatus is one, and as I'm sure you're well aware now causes indescribable pain."
He nodded, thankful for the calming draught once again otherwise he would not be sitting here so normally hearing this. He was also calm enough to make an educated guess on the other two.
"I'm gonna guess another is cast by 'imperio'?"
Both women on either side of him suddenly had thunder in their eyes.
"He used that too." Pomfrey was stern, but her calm was masking a lot more than that. When he nodded she frowned even deeper. "It is one—the imperious curse is able to control someone and force them to do whatever the caster likes. It is difficult to break out of, and once under its control also difficult to notice someone is under it. In the last war there were many who were imperioused and forced to do the dark lord's will. And of course… some who used it as an excuse to remain out of Azkaban."
Harry felt cold at that knowledge—doubly so when he immediately realized that was probably how Draco got to grow up with both parents. He… wasn't sure how to take that. He was also self-aware enough to know he shouldn't be forming an opinion on it in his current state anyway, so he stowed that icy thought back for another day.
"The last, you above all should know of. The killing curse." McGonagall explained grimly, and Harry didn't really need her to elaborate more on it. "That is… another reason you are so well known. When He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named came to kill you ten years ago, not only was he destroyed which ended the war and earned you the thanks of many, but he also attempted to use the killing curse to do it and it didn't work. No one has ever survived the killing curse, so it is not only a blessing he failed to kill you, but a rather impressive mystery as well."
The Boy Who Lived. Okay… I guess the title isn't as stupid as it sounds. I mean it's still stupid, but it's logical. The boy who lived while everyone else died to the same spell kind of make just a tiny bit of sense, I suppose.
With a jolt he realized that bastard has cast all three of the unforgivables on him at one point or another. And if what McGonagall was saying is true, that was a sick, twisted sort of record by all accounts.
He had no idea what to make of that.
"Awesome," He sighed, his sarcasm earning a huff from Pomfrey and a quickly squashed smile from McGonagall.
"Alright, any more questions for now?" The Madam prompted and Harry blinked at her.
"Wait, you're actually giving me free reign right now?"
She tisked at his incredulous expression. "Pertaining to the incident that happened, nothing else. Otherwise I am going to ask Minerva and Albus to leave so that I may take you through your potions regime and prep you to leave."
"Oh," he blinked, mind racing… but all the questions he had left were for Pomfrey herself, so he just shook his head.
"Very well, we will take our leave." McGonagall placed a hand on his leg closest to her and shot him a rather tense, but surprisingly warm look. "I am… very glad you are alright, Mr. Potter."
Harry was genuinely touched, his eyes a bit hot.
"Thank you, professor."
She spared no other words apart from a nod as she left, and Harry only glanced at Dumbledore before pointedly turning back to Pomfrey, cutting off whatever he might've said.
"I did have some questions about… uh, my injuries." He knew he sounded uncomfortable and the mediwitch instantly closed ranks in understanding, shooting Dumbledore a look that got him moving despite looking like maybe he also wanted to spare some kind of sentiment.
He could keep it to himself, so far as Harry was concerned.
"Of course dear, if you'd be up to hearing it I can explain what I did if you'd like." She had him in here enough over the year due to quidditch, pranks, headaches from Defense, and of course the troll to be more than familiar with his curiosity and despite not understanding the magic or medicine behind it he liked to know exactly what had been wrong with him before she made it disappear with a wave of her wand. She was thankfully very understanding with this odd need of his, this quietly intense need to be in control of his own body, despite a lot of witches and wizards seeing no need to discuss such things when magic made things better an instant later.
"Yes please," he sighed in relief and she pulled out some notes from her apron to go over it with him.
All in all, it probably sounded a lot worse than it'd been. Especially since Pomfrey said healing a cut, no matter how severe, was the first thing a medic learned so she could fix him up near instantly upon him reaching the hospital wing. He'd lost a lot of blood too, but again she'd had blood replenishing potions fully stocked in case someone needed them and while he'd needed two, that also had been a simple matter. What wasn't so simple was the bad bruising from being blasted into a wall, but miraculously he hadn't actually broken anything and that too, despite it's severity, she'd cleared up in under an hour.
What was more complex still, was the nerve damage from the cruciatus curse and apparently the damage done to the ligaments in his shoulder—that cutting curse that should've ended his life, instead of landing on his neck had landed across his collarbone and into his shoulder which made it all but useless without those muscles holding it up, but that too she'd fixed within the first day. She admitted it was very hard to heal those sort of injuries without causing the inflicted more pain, hence keeping him under.
And even with pain reduction potions, it was also flatly impossible to fix the cruciatus nerve damage without triggering ghost pains of the curse itself, and for that Harry was totally fine with being kept unconscious for days if it meant he didn't have to come near that kind of pain ever again.
Again, it could've been a lot worse and everyone seemed very aware of this fact—Harry acutely so.
Especially as he moved the collar of the pjs he'd been put into to inspect for himself how his shoulder was doing, and his heart dropped clean into his stomach to see the ugly red line exactly where she'd told him it'd be. He didn't give a quaffle about his shoulder though, his hand instantly snapped up to his face in horror and realized he could feel the slightly raised skin of the cut he no longer felt, but had known was there.
Pomfrey saw his expression and seemed to startle, quickly taking his hand down and holding it in her own, assuring him when it healed it would be nothing but the thinnest white line you wouldn't be able to see unless you were looking right at it in a couple days, it was just the residual agitation from the spell making it red for now. He wasn't soothed though and wanted to see it—and she reluctantly summoned a mirror for him.
Something ugly settled in his stomach when he saw it… an angry, ugly red line went from the bridge of his nose and slashed across his whole cheek and clipped the bottom edge of his jaw. He was… alarmed that he was more upset about this than being injured in general, and he only realized he was breathing too fast when Pomfrey gently but forcibly put a potion into his hands and all but guided it to his mouth for him to drink it.
It tasted… not bad, but bitter as hell, frothy with hints of lavender and something chalky and slippery at the same time. As soon as it slipped down his throat his breathing evened out and he blinked widely at the mirror he was still holding, that ugly twisting in his stomach settled for now.
"That… was a calming draught?" He put together, not having even realized his mind had gradually become foggy—only now that it was clear again did he realize how off he'd actually been. That did not bode well but luckily he was too chill right now to be properly uneasy about it.
"Yes," Pomfrey answered him but was looking deeply concerned as she removed the empty bottle from his hands. "You're going to be needing a lot of them in the coming weeks, I think."
"I… I shouldn't have freaked out over a scar." He frowned at the mirror again, eyes trailing up to his forehead where his original scar was in plain view once more. Clearly he hadn't been able to cover it up for a while now, and he wasn't happy about it.
He acknowledged it was vain but… it was also desperately important and he wasn't sure how to voice that.
Luckily, Pomfrey didn't seem to judge. "I am aware you cover up your scar which is why for now only you and I can see them, in case you know. I like to treat my patients with the dignity they wish for themselves so I tend to cast glimmers over them to prevent visitors from poking too closely about things they don't wish to talk about for now."
Harry's head snapped up, eyes wide. "Wait, glimmers? What's that?"
"A simple charm to conceal something about one's appearance. I believe it is a third year spell, if I recall correctly, but you seem dedicated to concealing it and if it is legitimately upsetting I could perhaps teach it to you next year." She explained easily.
"Wait so… Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall—just now they didn't see either of these scars?"
"No, in fact while you were here last none of your visitors did. Is that alright? I simply assumed."
"No that… thank you. Thank you for doing it." He breathed, it not even having crossed his mind when he'd been laid up before… and now that he thought about it, it was absolutely strange Blaise hadn't commented on it when he'd visited before. Even someone like Lu, who was nice but a pure Ravenclaw who liked to ask questions or Hannah who was all about the gossip probably should've at least made a passing comment if they'd noticed it. But they hadn't—no one had and Harry hadn't even considered he hadn't covered his scar in over a week by the time he was let go from the hospital wing after the troll incident, but it just hadn't crossed his mind given everything else.
She nodded, looking at him in concern once more. "It will fade, Mr. Potter, and I'm sure you can cover it as you have been quite easily. Next year you can learn the glimmer and it will be all the easier, but it should be the least of your concerns at the moment."
"I know, I just…" How could he put into words in a way that would make her understand how his stupid little pride had probably saved his life? How taking pride in his appearance had morphed into pride in himself, how it'd saved him from believing the Dursleys' rhetoric and considering himself nothing but a freak? How it had become so much more than just brushing his hair or covering his scar, but that was how it had started.
And how yes, it was vain and petty, but this new scar made him feel unsteady, like his foundation had shifted suddenly.
There was no way he could put that into words in a way she'd actually believe or be able to understand why.
Luckily, she didn't seem to need an explanation to let him have his quiet somber moment. She was a healer after all, she was here to help him, not judge what he needed to feel better.
"That glimmer will last a day so you'll be good for the rest of your time at Hogwarts. I will need to fix up your potion regimen to take with you but you can leave once I collect it all and have plenty of time to make it to lunch today. Pain reduction potions can make you hungry and calming draughts work best on a full stomach so have a full plate even if you're not starving, please."
"And these potions will… well, it'll sooth itself out?" He asked curisouly, tightening his grip around the mirror uncomfortably. Whatever it was that needed to sooth itself… Pomfrey didn't need further explanation as her eyes got hard.
"Yes, I'll write it out but you'll need to take a two types in the morning, one before bed. I will also send you along with a couple dreamless sleep potions, and several calming draughts as I said. I'm aware you live with muggles so it may be difficult to get to somewhere where you can buy these yourself, but if you need to I would suggest making the trip to Diagon or the similar to purchase more. I'll also write out a list or reputable shops and brewers I would suggest buying from if you can." She explained gently.
"And there's no drawback from taking these potions so much?" He frowned, slightly worried.
She smiled kindly. "I am aware some muggle medicines, especially pain medication, can be addictive, but here's no worry of that with potions. The biggest drawback is that dreamless sleep potions can be quite pricy and don't keep more than a couple weeks even with stasis charms so you'll have to make several trips to restock on them even for just the summer. Also I suppose, calming draughts only last two or three hours so they're temporary fixes unless you're wanting to drink them constantly—and despite it being a better tasing potion comparatively, most potions don't taste good as a rule."
Her expression softened a bit as he took all this information in carefully. "Mr. Potter I wouldn't hesitate to take them if you even think you're just slightly unwell. There is no risk of overdosing or anything like that, and you are not weak for needing them. Grown men and women cannot handle the cruciatus curse, and as a healer I frankly think they shouldn't have to." She sighed, weary, and Harry wondered how many people she'd treated for this curse. She was old enough to have been a mediwitch during the last war so… probably a lot. "The after effects… you might not even realize they're still there, and they will be there for months to come. If you do not rest, do not calm yourself, do not treat yourself kindly and gently for the time being, it will take from you before you even realize part of yourself is missing. It could stunt your growth and your mind, and worse it could hurt you in ways even a healer with all my knowledge of magical medicine cannot heal. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
He nodded, a bit slowly.
"Take it easy." He frowned.
"Be kind to yourself." She smiled, patting his head once more. "Any emotion, good or bad, give yourself free reign to feel it and work past it. If you need a calming draught, take one. Don't hesitate. Don't force yourself to suffer without help because you think you can manage—you do not need to manage you need to be happy. And the happier and more content you are, the less hold evil curses like this will have over you. So yes, take it easy and put yourself and your health first for now. As much as you can, and I will check in with you again at the start of next term to see how it's going, alright?"
"Okay," he agreed, smiling a bit weakly.
"Harry!"
He perked up instantly and looked towards the door again—this time met with very welcome visitors.
"Draco," he felt a sort of relief to the see the blond as he walked quickly over—Blaise and Theo trialing after him at much more dignified pace but also actually looking like they wanted to be there for once which was probably the best end of term present Harry could imagine.
Pomfrey chuckled lightly, patting his arm. "I will get your potions ready, enjoy your visitors." She let them be, for which he was grateful.
"Harry," Draco greeted again once he was close enough to actually talk, his own relief clear in his voice. He instantly got riled up again though. "You are the most trouble bound Gryffindor in this entire damn school, I swear to Merlin! Why?" He demanded, and Harry couldn't help but laugh.
And also realizing laughing felt really, really good.
"If I knew I'd definitely quit it immediately." He snipped with a grin. "You have good timing, I only just woke up and I'm about to be let go too."
"Don't doubt my powers of gossip—I heard some Hufflepuff upper years talking about how weird it was McGonagall was actually running through the halls and made the obvious connection." Blaise waved off his comment triumphantly as he walked up behind Draco, shooting him a wink. "Good to see you alive, Potter."
"Blaise, Theo." He greeted, grinning wider now that he was actually allowed to call Nott—Theo—that and the blue-eyed boy just smirked at his glee. Still quiet, but not unwilling to engage anymore.
"They were not concerned in the slightest." Draco informed in a deadpan.
"Not at all." Theo smirked dryly, before it dropped immediately and his eyes flickered. "Was it really him?"
Harry didn't really need further detail on who him was. By Blaise's suddenly frozen expression and Draco shifting his weight a bit unsubtly, he knew this wasn't like answering the fearful curiosity he might've gotten from a Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw.
These were Slytherins, and Voldemort would always be an extremely complicated, muddled, darkened subject they would never be able to fully, honestly confront. It was absolutely critical they learned the truth, and Harry would never know what they really think of his answer.
If he were a Slytherin himself he would tell them the short answer and keep most of it to himself. However… he was still a Gryffindor, and to quote Theo's nonchalance earlier that same week… while perhaps it was a bad choice in politics, they were still his friends. They might not ever offer him the same decency, but he was okay with that as he met an icy blue gaze that was more intent than Harry had ever seen them.
And Daphne had told him all about Theo's father. Despite only just becoming on speaking terms with the guy… he deserved to know the whole truth.
"A piece of him, I think. Less than a full man, more than a ghost. He was bloody possessing Quirrell and Dumbledore didn't notice—how utterly lame." He tried to make a joke of it, and despite the rather forced smiles he got he knew it didn't really land right. Although they did seem to expect that answer to a point, which was positive.
Draco simply nodded once.
"Truly." Blaise agree a moment too late.
Theo just moved to stand by his bedside table to observe all the gifts he'd gotten as if he hadn't heard the answer in the first place. Harry let him have his silence without commenting for once.
"Surprised not to see Longbottom here. Must've been dragged away or something finally, but he's usually here." Draco changed the subject a bit untactfully for a Slytherin but no one seemed to mind this time.
"Tell him I'm awake if any of you see him, please? I'll be here another hour or so but I'm sure the sooner her knows the better."
"After what you did to Montague? Yes sir." Blaise gave a mock-salute, snapping back to his creepily cheerful self and the other three of them rolled their eyes in sync. "In other business-related news, we come bearing gifts for the invalids present and you will tell everyone that mine is the best." He declared promptly, placing what looked to be two identical journals, wrapped in neat gold ribbon to be a package on the table around where Nott was standing. Theo himself had placed his own small envelope down as well, Harry noted with a fond smile.
"That depends on what it is, because I'll have you know the twins gave me a 'get out of a prank' pass and that's mighty attractive." He lied, just to tease Blaise because he wasn't actually sure if the twins had a present somewhere in that pile, but it didn't seem to matter.
"Please," He scoffed, unthreatened and very sure of himself. "As if some pranksters could out-gift me. I've officially declared amongst Slytherin that you're my friend now, because clearly," If Harry could take out Montague, pretty much permanently for the rest of his time at Hogwarts, then he was a good ally to have. Even the untouchable Slytherin would be stupid not to have him as an ally now, and the snake house knew it. "Therefore it's my obligation to out-do everyone. I will win." He grinned wickedly, eyes alight.
"I mean thanks, but generosity isn't really something you can win." Harry pointed out.
"Says you."
"You know what, I'm too tired to argue." He decided, slumping against the pillows propped up behind him dramatically.
"The world must be ending." Theo offered blankly, picking up a book from Harry's pile of presents while he did so and turning it over curiously.
"And to think, I spent a whole year missing out on that sarcasm. What a shame, truly."
The quiet Slytherin's lips quirked in amusement before he seemed to focus more intently on the book cover. "Some light reading?"
While Harry didn't know the book, he knew the style and put together who probably gave it to him. "Ah, ever since I punched Draco, Hermione's been giving me books on controlling my emotions. I told her I liked them so I keep getting them every holiday and near death experience." He explained before blinking once and frowning deeply. "Which is four times this year alone, though I was only injured in two of them." He was unhappy to announce.
"Four? I only count three." Blaise was indignant he'd clearly missed something as Theo opened the book and scanned the first chapter lazily. So even when they were on talking terms he still preferred literally any book over the people around him.
But Harry was more focused on Blaise's confusion and looked at Draco pointedly, having thought for sure he'd have at least mentioned that very impactful night to his dormmates.
The blond just shrugged, unperturbed by the silent question. "I didn't tell him about the forest. Didn't feel like having the whole school know." He offered reasonably. Which, Harry thought was fair.
"What about the forest?"
"I got separated from Hagrid on our detention in the forbidden forest and a hooded figure that we now can confirm was Voldemort was eating a unicorn tried to kill me before a centaur scared it off." He gave them the brief version, and Blaise stared openly.
Theo lifted his baleful eyes to stare at him blankly too, lips down turning.
"Can you… not do that." He asked quietly, politely even, and Harry was about to ask before he snapped his jaw shut.
Respect him, fear him, follow him, hate him… Slytherins didn't call Voldemort by name. Anyone else Harry would've refused to shy away from a mere name because that meant they were being nonsensically afraid of an evil man's name, but after having just met the monster and understanding the incredibly complex emotions Slytherins might have towards the dark lord, he knew better than to push.
"Sure." He agreed easily, just as delicately polite back, and Theo accepted that by looking back down at the book and leafing through the first chapter lazily.
Blaise pressed his lips into a thin line and turned to Draco dryly.
"I see what you mean about being a trouble-bound Gryffindor." He admitted, and Draco gave a wild gestured in a 'thank you!' type motion.
"Hey! The detention was stupid from start to finish! We got caught on the third floor so we get sent to the forbidden forest, one off-limits place right into another? Also, at night? And splitting up? How does any of that make sense!?" Harry complained, realizing by shoving memories of that night down he'd also forgotten to get annoyed by the school's absurd system of punishment.
"You what?" Blaise whipped around to Draco once more. "What third floor? That third floor?"
"Yeah, not telling you about that." Draco told him bluntly. "You'll use it for evil."
Blaise promptly then turned to Harry who seemed alarmingly willing to tell him stuff, but since he correctly interpreted Draco's words to mean the untouchable Slytherin would use that information against Hagrid specifically, Harry was content to follow Draco's lead.
"That one I'll keep to myself."
"Fine, but more importantly you know what's on the third floor!?" Blaise gave up rather quickly, sensing a loosing battle and getting back on track.
"Yeah, a hound of hell. Now shut up, we're supposed to be visiting Harry." Draco shoved him and he pouted dramatically.
Also, it was clear Blaise wasn't 100% sure if Draco was lying to him or not about the hound of hell comment, which Harry found entertaining. Slytherins got a kick out of honesty, and Draco had spent enough time at the Gryffindor table this year that he'd learned to use honesty like a weapon, which Harry found absolutely hilarious.
His gleeful snickering earned him a couple eye rolls, but he memorized the feeling happily, knowing he was going to need happy memories of friends to get him through this coming summer.
000
Blaise and Theo left the other two in the hospital wing when Pomfrey came back with a veritable armful of potions, all the Slytherins being good enough at potions to immediately recognize what they were—and it was not hard as snakes who were more than aware of what the dark lord was capable of to realize what had probably happened. What they felt on the matter was irrelevant, because the look on Draco's face told them he and their favorite Gryffindor would need a moment to themselves to talk.
Draco's mother-hen habits were getting increasingly annoying as they got worse over the year, but honestly Harry kind of deserved it for how much trouble he kept getting into. Either way, neither of them wanted to be there for that (there would be far too many emotions and compromising topics brought up) so they'd quickly made their exit and told them to meet them at the Slytherin table for lunch. That was as friendly as they were going to get—never would they actually admit they may or may not be concerned about the Gryffindor, but officially inviting him to their table for once had cheered Harry visibly and told them their silent message had been received anyway.
They left the hospital wing in silence as they made their way back to the Slytherin dorm for lack of better option since there was nothing to do this last day as first years but kill time before the end of term feast.
When fully alone and out of earshot of just about anyone, Blaise spoke up.
"So. What was it?" He questioned lightly, referencing the book Theo had spent that visit so interested by.
He only paused a few seconds to spare the boy beside him an unreadable look.
"…beginner's guide to Occlumency. Just… not in so many words."
Blaise tilted his head back, humming thoughtfully to himself.
"Hm…. Probably for the best." He decided with a shrug. "Considering who he just faced… probably also the reason he's alive."
Theo just looked back down the empty hallway blankly.
"Probably." He agreed shortly, and they walked back to their common room in pensive silence.