The hospital wing at Hogwarts was a breath of fresh air, quite literally. The floor-to-ceiling windows had been flung wide, allowing for a gentle autumn breeze. The rustling leaves of the trees seemed to welcome Harry back to Hogwarts.
If Harry was aware of his surroundings, he didn't show it. In fact, he seemed unaffected by his busy day, during which he'd been Apparated back to the castle and settled in the bed situated closest to Madam Pomfrey's office.
Ginny had had a full day of classes, and her mother had insisted she attend each and every one. When Ginny had protested, saying she wanted to welcome Harry home, Mrs. Weasley reminded her daughter that he would still be there after supper and Ginny could visit then.
The morning was quiet with Harry's friends all in class. By mid-afternoon, however, he'd had a string of visitors, including Hagrid, who had gleefully promised to bring "a friend to cheer yeh up" the next day.
Ron and Hermione came directly from their last class, sinking into chairs at Harry's bedside. They were both exhausted from the worry and lack of sleep the night before.
Ron seemed only slightly less frightened of seeing Harry unconscious. He was swallowing hard.
Hermione kept glancing in his direction, hoping he wouldn't be sick again. When she had decided that Ron wasn't going to bolt from the room or be sick on the floor, she allowed herself to return her gaze to Harry.
She felt relieved to be away from the hospital. Here, she could sit beside Harry, to touch his hand and shoulder and reassure herself that he was still breathing.
Hermione had brought her schoolbooks and soon she had pulled out her Potions textbook, reciting aloud the properties of blood-letting juice. Secretly, she had to smile a little at the thought of forcing Harry to do his lessons without him being able to do anything about it. "You'll thank me for it later, Harry," she told him.
Ron, however, was more than able to complain when she began to read their lessons aloud. "What do you want to do, Hermione, put us both to sleep?"
He glanced at Harry. "Sorry, mate," he mumbled.
Even with his friends quarreling in front of him, Harry did not respond.
Undaunted, Hermione read until the sun was beginning to set over the mountains, and Hermione did not realize how long she had been sitting there until Mrs. Weasley was gently shaking her shoulder.
"Hermione dear, Harry's had an exciting day," she said. "He needs a bath and then some supper."
"A bath?" Ron squeaked. "Who's going to give him a bath?"
Mrs. Weasley had magically summoned a basin of warm, soapy water and a washcloth. She glowered at her son, saying, "I've raised seven children. I believe I can manage a sponge bath."
"Yeah, but can Harry?" Ron grabbed Hermione's arms. "Come on. We don't want to see this."
Mrs. Weasley watched them depart, amusement in her eyes. Then she turned back to Harry, her voice tender. "All right, love, let's freshen you up."
Harry was still sporting the dirt and grass smears from his fall the day before. Gently, she scrubbed away each stain. By the time she had wiped down his arms and legs, the water in the bowl was gray; with a wave of her wand she vanished it. With another flourish of her wand, tubes appeared, suspended over his head and snaking their way from beneath the blankets. In a matter of moments, the tubes had nourished the patient and had carried away the wastes of his body. They were cumbersome, but even the world of magic had not been able to come up with a more efficient method of sustaining an unconscious body.
Banishing the tubes with a flick of her wand, Mrs. Weasley then tucked the blankets snug across his chest. "There we are," she said, satisfied with her work. Leaning closer to her patient, she said, "I'm going home now, dear. Madam Pomfrey will be with you until the morning and then I'll be back. Now, you just rest and get better. We'll take care of everything."
She indulged herself for a moment, stroking her fingers over the quiet boy's forehead. Her eyes grew teary, and she shook her head to clear the sadness that suddenly threatened to overwhelm her. "You'll be fine, love," she whispered.
Quickly, she turned away and began to walk from the room. At the doors, however, she paused, then returned to his bedside, reached for the black-rimmed eyeglasses that lay on the table beside his bed.
She settled his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Just in case you open your eyes," she quietly explained.