That information was certainly sobering to Harry. He felt he'd eventually have to contemplate the implications of his magic in connection with what had happened, but now was not the time. Harry suspected he really would become hysterical if he thought too much about how much like Dark Arts his peculiar powers could get.
Harry pointed his wand to where Lucius stood. Then he hesitated. "Um . . . can you two get behind me? I'd sure hate for a stray spark to . . .yeah."
"A very sound notion, I would think," murmured Snape as he and Albus moved back.
Harry looked at the sleeping viper, not at Lucius, as he cast. "Turn completely to stone and stay that way," he hissed fiercely.
Magic surged up from within him and poured out through his arm and hand and fingers before shooting through his wand. The sensation was strangely overwhelming. Harry felt a flutter in his chest -like his heart had skipped a beat and tried to make up for it with three quick ones. Worried that the strange feeling meant something was going wrong, Harry did look at Lucius, then. He was relieved to see the glistening sheen of polished marble replacing the flesh and cloth. Or at least he thought that was what he was seeing. His vision was growing foggy, and strangely dim. Harry let out the breath he was holding, his arm trembling with the effort it took to keep his wand pointed at Malfoy, just in case something was going wrong.
Without warning, his legs gave out from beneath him, but he didn't hit the floor. For a second, he wondered why it was taking so long. Then he became vaguely aware of something black and soft surrounding him. Someone he could trust to hold him.
Relaxing then, Harry let himself dissolve completely into his father's arms.
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Sensations surrounded him. Floppy-feeling muscles, his father's close embrace, Apparition, motion, the smell of Floo powder. However, Harry didn't jolt back into full awareness until the Potions Master shouted for Poppy Pomfrey while in close proximity to Harry's ear.
Frowning, Harry tried to make a sarcastic comment about not being deaf, but only managed a somewhat annoyed whimper.
"What the hell happened?" Draco shouted from across the room. "You lot dawdled for ages!"
"Mr Snape, calm yourself at once. Professor, lay Mr Potter down here."
Becoming more lucid, Harry struggled against his father's gentle grip. "I'm not an invalid! I can walk." Pleasantly surprised when Snape actually let him go, Harry squinted blearily around the infirmary as he made his way to the bed Madame Pomfrey was pointing at. He sat down heavily, rubbing his eyes and blinking as he struggled to clear his vision.
"What seems to be the problem?"
"Magical exhaustion at the very least," said Snape in clipped tones. "However, Harry may well have sustained injuries which he and his brother have failed to mention."
Harry cringed a bit as the accusation hit home. "Oh . . . um, I think the magic on my eyes has been mussed a bit. I didn't really figure it out until just now, though," he added defensively.
"Fuck," Draco muttered.
Moments later Madame Pomfrey was shining wand light into Harry's eyes and commenting that she saw a small amount of scarring in both. After a series of incantations, she also confirmed what Harry already suspected: his eyesight was no longer magically corrected to perfect vision.
"Damn it! I should have transfigured a blindfold," Draco said. "Harry, I just didn't think! Well, I mean, I did, but I didn't have any time. Shite. I am so, so sorry."
"S'ok," Harry sighed, more than a little depressed. No point in upsetting Draco, though. He hadn't meant any harm. "I'm sure they'll fix it."
"I don't appreciate this cavalier attitude about your sight, Harry," announced Snape in a hard tone. "Now, what is this about a blindfold?" When neither boy answered, the Potions Master's voice became even more insistent. "Which of you is going to tell me everything that took place in that house?"
"Draco will," Harry answered. Probably he should have offered to explain it all himself, but he just didn't feel like it. And he figured he was entitled to a little selfishness, after all he'd been through. Of course, Draco had been through a lot as well, but then again, he'd already been treated and had got a chance to rest. "Can I just go to sleep?"
Before anyone could answer Harry's head was hitting the pillow. He was so tired he could barely drag his legs atop the bed. He closed his burning eyes, wishing he could sleep for a week, and didn't even open them when he felt someone pulling off his shoes. Harry batted the hands away, though, when they started tugging on his school robe.
"You'll be more comfortable with it off," said Remus' soft voice.
"Then I shall assist him," Snape announced, a little huffily to Harry's ear. "He is my son, you realise."
"Yes, I realise, but I knew him well a lot earlier than you did, Severus--"
"Gentlemen," Pomfrey announced, her voice a shade amused. "Allow me."
The mediwitch swiftly spelled him into soft pyjamas. As she began murmuring diagnostic spells, Draco recounted their entire misadventure from the time they'd gone to fetch his amulet.
Harry didn't want to answer any questions, so he lay still and quiet, feigning sleep. Draco's embellishments made it a bit difficult, though. Hundreds of snakes became thousands. Then Draco said that he'd known all along that his old wand was probably a Portkey. He'd bravely risked the danger in order to defend his brother, he claimed.
Harry couldn't help it. He snorted.
"Problem?" said Snape quickly.
"Uh, no. Just something up my nose," said Harry, just as quickly.
He turned his head into the pillow and grinned while their father proceeded to scold Draco for doing something so "Gryffindor."
Draco was just getting to the part about Gibby taking away the snake he'd so bravely killed when Pomfrey lifted Harry's head and helped him drink a sickly-sweet potion. After that, blissful sleep descended, sending Harry into a place that was dark, but safe.
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After sleeping for what felt like days, Harry was aware of his father coming to his bedside and gently shaking him awake to tell him he must wake to answer some questions about Aran. Harry vaguely nodded, but he didn't have the strength to break the potion's effect and was quickly back to sleep.
When his father came a second time it was to tell him that Harry needed to eat and that his friends were driving him mad begging to visit him. This time Harry didn't even bother trying to wake. He felt like he was back in the Second Task. It was like being just below the surface of the water and wanting to swim up with not being able to do so.
The last time someone tried to wake him, Harry managed to open his eyes. Everything looked hazy, but as Draco's face came close, he could see well enough to make out his features. "Hey," whispered Harry. "Your bites are gone."
Draco smiled. "Yeah. No more hideous and disfiguring scars, eh? How are you feeling?"
"Uh . . . sleepy, I guess." Rolling slightly on his side, Harry went right back to sleep.
Much later, when Harry finally surfaced from his slumber and squinted over at the other bed, Draco appeared to be asleep himself. It didn't seem like it was night, though, not really. The fuzzy form of Remus was sitting on a chair beside his bed.
Harry's mouth felt like it was full of cotton wool. Reaching awkwardly for the glass of water on his night table, he took a few gulps. There, that was better. "Hey, Remus."
A warm smile lit up the other man's brown eyes. "Good to see you awake, Harry. Are you feeling better?"
"Yeah," said Harry, stretching. "Kind of tired and bleary, but good. Oh no, bleary . . ."
Apparently understanding his difficulty at once, Remus leaned over and spoke in a low voice. "Severus has owl-ordered you some replacement glasses. Proper wizarding ones, this time."