Of course, he was doing more than watching, Harry knew. He was assessing the mood of Hogwarts, and listening for any mention of Draco or the murder. Unfortunately, there was no shortage of discussion on that point. "He didn't do it," Harry insisted, over and over. "He couldn't have done it. He was with me the whole time."
And when that drew objections, Harry heard himself asking, "Well, who are you going to believe on that point? Me, or some Slytherins who have it in for Draco because he's on my side? Think about it."
He was frankly grateful when Snape finally rescued him from it all, simply by imperiously stepping into the latest throng surrounding Harry and announcing, "My son and I have some matters to attend to." That was it, just those few words, though of course they were delivered in a voice that demanded instant obedience. The crowd parted almost as though a spell had been cast. His robes swishing majestically, Snape took Harry by the elbow and led him on down the corridor.
"Thanks," Harry murmured. "I hate being the centre of attention like that."
He didn't miss the sardonic look his father gave him, as if to say, I do know, though once upon a time I never would have guessed.
When Madame Pomfrey heard that Harry's left eye had relapsed, she insisted on a full vision exam. Harry had to hold a paddle over his right eye and read a patch of air she filled with indecipherable symbols. Runes he'd never seen before? When the mediwitch demanded he cover his left eye and read with his right, though, he realised the truth.
"Oh. Hufflepuff, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw," he groaned, feeling stupid. Well, he hadn't often seen the House emblems in black and white before, and they were rather tiny. "How come there's no Gryffindor?"
"Again, Mr. Potter," the mediwitch briskly demanded, flicking her wand to produce a second line below the first.
"Okay, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Hufflepuff, Slytherin," he read off. "Still seems like an excessive amount of Hufflepuff," he had to say.
"The right eye needs no correction," she said, just as if they didn't know that already, as if they hadn't told her to begin with. Harry held in his impatience, though, even when she launched into her know-it-all act. "Such a pity the magic in the other one didn't hold true, Severus. I did mention that it was possible to make that Elixir a bit too strong, if you recall?"
Snape said nothing. He didn't even glare. Well, not much.
"We're using the Elixir again, ma'am," Harry said as he set the paddle aside. "The regular kind, though. So... I was hoping that you could charm my glasses, maybe copy the good vision on one side over to the other one?"
Sure enough, that got her off the subject of Severus' supposed failings as she prattled on for a while about her own expertise. "You'd have no depth perception, Mr. Potter. And a spell like that would induce a fair bit of vertigo; you'd be falling over your own feet."
"Well this way I'm getting one hell of a headache!"
"Harry," Snape said, the single word a warning.
"I'm sorry," Harry said, rubbing his temples as he spoke. "That was rude. I just meant that this vision thing really does give me a headache."
Madame Pomfrey glanced at Snape in some surprise, and then said calmly to Harry, "There are a few complex vision charms that might be of use, Mr. Potter, but none of them are indicated for use while that eye is receiving Elixir. The best I can offer you is what amounts to an eye patch."
"An eye patch! I'll look like a ruddy pirate, I will--"
"Nonsense," the mediwitch said, her voice once more taking on its usual preening tone. "A magical eye patch, Mr. Potter. We'll affix it to your glasses and make it transparent from one side. It will ease the strain on your eye and keep those headaches at bay, but all anyone else will see is a boy wearing his glasses."
"Oh, all right," Harry said, stepping back as she began to brandish her wand. Even after the complicated spell was cast, and Harry had his hand out for his glasses, the mediwitch kept fussing over them, applying a polishing charm to every surface. At last she handed them over though, and he settled them atop his nose.
The eye patch spell was very odd; he could actually feel something like cloth touching his face. His headache didn't instantly vanish, but it did begin to recede. That was worth something, though Harry didn't like the prospect of going about half-blind, even if nobody else knew about it.
Still, he could always hope that his father might be able to manage a second miracle for him.
Instead, it seemed that Dumbledore was the one who had arranged a miracle... the one he'd promised Draco.
"Harry," the headmaster greeted him as he and Snape were walking down a ground-floor corridor on their way back to the dungeons. Dumbledore swept forward, his orange and chartreuse robes swishing madly. "Harry, my boy, so good to see you up and about. You must be feeling better." He motioned to either side of him, to a tall black wizard sporting an earring and a shorter blue-haired witch beaming from ear to ear. "You remember Tonks and Shacklebolt, I'm sure."
Harry's first thought was Order Aurors, that's more like it...
His second thought was of the last time he'd seen Kingsley Shacklebolt. The Department of Mysteries. Sirius, falling through the veil. Shacklebolt continuing to battle Bellatrix Lestrange right up until he was wounded himself...
The events of that day swept through him all over again, the pain of losing Sirius still fresh and sharp. It might have happened just hours ago, instead of nearly a year past. Harry struggled past it, forcing it down and away as he'd done so many times before. He told himself that it was over and done with, that it was all right, but Draco's words came back to haunt him. How can that be all right?
When he'd first seen the Order Aurors, Harry could have leapt for joy, but now all he felt was numb. "You're here to take over the investigation?" he asked, his voice subdued.
"What sort of way is that to greet an old friend?" Tonks playfully demanded, her hair turning from blue to pink and back as she strode closer.
"Wotcher?" he tried instead, trying to force his thoughts back to the present. He managed a grin, though he was sure it looked strained. But that was all right, considering.
"There you go!" Tonks enthused, doing everything but swinging him around on his feet as she wrapped him in a big hug. "Gosh, you've grown, Harry!"
Kingsley Shacklebolt, not too surprisingly, was more circumspect. "Mr. Potter," he greeted him as soon as Tonks had let him go. His voice was low and calming; listening to him was like taking a deep breath. "It's good to see you looking so well."
"You too," he admitted, feeling a little more able to cope. "I don't think I ever got a chance to thank you for helping me out when I was in trouble for having DA meetings."
"My pleasure," Kingsley said, nodding amiably.
Harry remembered something else then. "And for trying to break through to rescue me on Samhain," he added, the comment that time encompassing them both. "Thanks. So, um... have you just now arrived?"
"Mmm, time to face the press," Tonks nodded, momentarily sprouting claws as though in unspoken defence of Harry. "The Minister wants us to speak with them straight away to assure the public we're doing everything we can to bring the guilty party to justice."
Harry surmised that was Fudge's way of fighting back against the Parkinsons' threat to use publicity. All at once, he had a better sense than ever of what his father had meant all those months ago when he'd explained that James Potter had done the work of an Auror but had preferred to remain apart from official Ministry politics.