If you should not be here, leave now.

6. Taking life a mouthful at a time

Suddenly his right wrist was grabbed in a firm grip and Harry was wrenched from his nightmare. His body tensed as he waited for Uncle Vernon’s first blow. It didn’t come.

"It’s alright, Harry. I’m not going to hurt you." The voice was familiar and soothing, Harry opened his eyes wondering where on earth he was, if he was on earth. Everything was blurred beyond recognition, but a darker blur above him seemed familiar, it looked oddly like Snape.

"Professor Snape?" His voice sounded cracked and rough, like he hadn’t used it for days. There was no response, but he felt whoever it was put his glasses on. They didn’t seem to help but the familiar weight of them on his face helped calm him more. He tried to look at his surroundings, but they adamantly refused to focus.

"Where am I?" He felt alive, so he didn’t think he was dead, but it was always a good idea to check.

"The Hospital wing at Hogwarts, you are quite safe."

"Oh." Now Harry knew it was Snape, there was no mistaking that velvet edged steel in his voice. So why was he at Hogwarts? He cast his memory back and found the images of Snape arriving at Privet Drive. For some reason he didn’t feel uncomfortable that Snape had seen what his relatives were like, he decided to examine that thought later and focused on his immediate problems, like why didn’t his body hurt anymore? He looked down at his body, from what he could make out, he was in hospital pyjamas and Snape was holding his hand, which didn’t make sense either. Before he could verify whether his assessment of the situation was correct, Snape’s hand, or whatever it was, was removed and Snape had moved away, his shape becoming more blurred with the increased distance.

Another voice came into his hearing; he recognised it as Madame Pomfrey.

"Ah, H-Harry, you’re awake." She said yawning. Harry was suddenly stuck by the fact that he was dragging people away from their holidays, but then he remembered Dumbledore saying everyone would be on high alert this summer, so he was probably just another patient. He hoped he hadn’t taken up too much of Madame Pomfrey’s time.

"How do you feel, Harry?" Pomfrey asked, her blurred face coming into his view. How did he feel? He hadn’t given it much thought other than he didn’t hurt. He tried to feel his body, he couldn’t, all he got was some kind of numb fuzzy feeling.

"Numb." He croaked out. Pomfrey’s head disappeared for a minute and then a cool something was pressed to his lips. He drank the water gratefully and tried to speak again.

"I can’t feel anything, and I can’t see anything either, everything is blurry." His voice came out better that time although it was still rough around the edges.

"Hmm, when was the last time you had your eyes tested Harry?" He tried to think, how long was it? He remembered thinking his glasses had lasted longer than the last ones, but how long ago was that?

"I’m not sure, maybe when I was nine?" He hazarded. There was the hiss of in-drawn breath, what had he said?

"I’m not surprised your glasses don’t help then, a child’s eyes change rapidly and should be checked every six months. Had I known, I would have called you in before now, but I assumed your relatives looked after that." He couldn’t see Pomfrey’s expression, but he was almost sure she was frowning. So if his eyes should have been tested ages ago, why had his glasses been fine until now? This and other questions floated across his brain, and he didn’t notice that Pomfrey had gone until she came back. She seemed to be holding a box of some kind.

"Now Harry I can’t alter the muggle lenses you have now, but I suspect you would like new glasses anyway, yes?" Harry nodded, wondering what was in the box. "So, these are the wizarding equivalent to muggle spectacles. The lenses in these automatically adjust to compensate for the distortion in your vision, but once activated need to be re-set every six months." Pomfrey explained as if she was talking to a first year, but for the most part Harry missed the slightly condescending tone. He was getting rid of the horrible NHS specs, and that was all that mattered. Pomfrey took off his old glasses and tried on a succession of frames until she found one that she thought suited him and then with a tap of her wand activated them.

The world slowly came into focus, and he looked around the ward. These were better than his old glasses; he didn’t have the blurred bit at the corners when he looked sideways. Pomfrey held up a small hand mirror and he admired his reflection. The first thing he noticed was that bruises were gone and the all the scars, except the one on his forehead, had faded. The new glasses were some kind of thin silvery metal and were oval in shape; they suited him far more that the heavy framed round ones had done.

"Why didn’t my old glasses stop working until now if my eyes changed so much?" He asked as he looked back up at the medi-witch. She looked at him consideringly.

"I think perhaps your magic compensated, I’ve seen similar things before but never to quite this degree. And I think the fact that you’ve been so malnourished and have been unconscious for three days has meant your magic didn’t have the strength to compensate anymore." Well that made sense, Harry thought, but hang on…

"Three days?"

"Mmm, yes. You were very ill when Professor Snape brought you in, and the best thing was for me to keep you sedated until your body was healed and could cope with normal things again." Harry nodded vaguely, he hadn’t noticed that Snape hadn’t left as he’d assumed but was sitting a short distance from the bed, apparently reading a large book, but he noticed now. Was it him or did the book look like it was upside down? Before he could work out for sure, Pomfrey caught his attention again.

"Now that you’re awake and able to function better, I’d like you to start eating again. I’ll have the house-elves bring up some broth, your stomach can’t cope with solid food at the moment, I had to remove your appendix so don’t try sitting up either just now." And with that she bustled off, and Harry was left alone with Snape.

Turning his head slightly, Harry tried to read the title of the book. It was in ancient Latin, but that was ok, he’d helped Hermione translate a book she’d borrowed from the library last year and could still remember everything she’d taught him.

"’Potions of the mind and their application by Merlin’" He read out-loud slowly, "Is it supposed to be read upside down, sir?" Snape looked up from the book, he seemed startled.

"Umm, no, I was err…" Was it him or did Snape seem embarrassed? Whatever it was he recovered and said, "No, I was merely examining a diagram. And I wasn’t aware you could read Latin." It wasn’t a question, but he could tell Snape was curious.

"Hermione taught me last year, she needed help with something. Umm, thanks, for saving my life, again, but umm, why are you here?" This was the most pressing of the questions forming in his mind, he hoped Snape wouldn’t shout at him for asking.

"It might have escaped your notice Potter, but I live here." Came the stiff reply.

"In the Hospital wing?" Snape scowled, he opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by Madame Pomfrey. She was holding a steaming cup of what Harry assumed was the broth. Whatever it was, the smell made his mouth water. She smiled at Snape and then placed the cup on the bedside cabinet.

"Now, your appendix scar will take some time to heal, so I don’t want you sitting up unaided. If you need to get up at all, just ask Professor Snape here and I’m sure he won’t mind helping you get to the bathroom and things, after all he’s been sat here watching over you all this time, it’s only right that he makes himself useful now that you’re awake." Snape glared at the medi-witch and Harry tried not to laugh at the thought of Snape being considerate enough to help him like that; he suddenly felt a stabbing pain on his right side though the numbness and gasped.

"Don’t worry it’s going to hurt when you move for a few days but it should get better soon." Pomfrey told him as she helped him sit up, which hurt even more. Having summoned a pile of pillows for Harry to lean back against she gave him the cup of broth. The warmth that seeped into his hands was welcome, and he took a sip of the scalding liquid. It slipped down nicely and he tried another one, but his stomach rebelled and he nearly vomited over the bed.

"There’s no rush, Harry, just drink it a mouthful at a time."

There was a sudden commotion in the outer ward, and three men staggered through the door. Harry recognised one as Ron’s brother Bill, but the other two were unfamiliar, they were all covered in blood and were carrying a fourth person between them.

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