｡+.*𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗜𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗔𝗜𝗥*+｡ [𝘿. 𝙈𝘼𝙇𝙁𝙊𝙔]¹

XXII. CROWNING GLORY

When I finally found myself floating back into awareness, everything hurt. I felt like I'd had an icepick driven through my skull and into my brain, and there was a throbbing ache in my scar(a dull echo of what I felt in the chamber).

My eyes fluttered open, but my vision was out of focus and all I could do was squint.

It didn't help that, from the looks of it, it was nighttime.

"Why do I feel like I was hit over the head with a bat," I suddenly slurred out loud, screwing my eyes shut again and throwing back my head, "backed over by a steam train, and tap-danced on by Flitwick's pineapples during a History of Magic exam--?"

"Miss Potter!"

Hearing the familiar voice gave me the strength to pry my eyes back open.

"Poppy?"

Rubbing my eyes blearily, I managed to get a good look at my surroundings.

Okay, I got a decent-ish look, but I could basically? see even with my tired eyes and how dim it was in here in spite of the torches and the moonlight streaming through the windows framing the room with soft, muted light.

--probably to avoid disturbing sleeping patients.

I was lying in a bed with white linen sheets I'd know anywhere(Quirrell could've gleefully gouged my eyes out with a pen knife, and I still would've recognised where I am by touch alone--). Probably because I've spent more time on the beds in here than the one in my dorm--but, in a roundabout way, I'll just blame Flint for that.

Weirdly, there was a table next to me piled high with enough neatly stacked sweets to supply the Honeydukes Express.

--not that I'm complaining; unless they're somebody else's, in which case it'll serve them right when I walk out of here with my pockets stuffed.

"What--?"

"Don't try to sit up--" Madam Pomfrey said reassuringly, "you're in the hospital wing--you've been in an, a, well, incident of sorts--"

She hurried over from where she had been quietly talking to--

"Professor Snape?"

Professor Snape made to approach but was forced to hang back--for self-preservation's sake--upon receiving a sharp look from the matron.

"How are you feeling?" she questioned, checking me over. "Does anything hurt?"

The Potions Master looked at her wryly.

"I think her comment about a bat, a steam train, tap-dancing pineapples, and the History of Magic exams indicates that Miss Potter is feeling somewhat sore."