With how often he got knocked unconscious, the time it took Harry to wake up from a coma grew shorter and shorter.
Before lunchtime, Harry, who had been lying like a corpse in the hospital wing, opened his eyes.
His six teammates had already stripped off their soaking wet Quidditch robes, changed into standard black Hogwarts school uniforms, and were gathered around his bed.
Meanwhile, his best bud Ron stood at the head of the bed, a gold and red sash emblazoned with the Gryffindor crest slung across his shoulder. With a solemn expression, he held his wand upright against his chest, muttering under his breath.
Harry's head was full of question marks. What on earth was this supposed to mean?
A professional funeral crew?
Did they want him to make a speedy recovery, or could they just not wait to send him off to the afterlife?
As for the result of the match, Harry didn't even bother asking.
Having already experienced being knocked unconscious fourteen times, every time he woke up and asked for the score, it was always—without fail—Gryffindor losing the match. Harry had long since gotten used to it.
This time would likely be no different.
Madam Pomfrey walked in carrying a bottle of potion. Without a word, she handed it straight to this frequent flyer of the hospital wing.
Sitting up in bed, Harry familiarly took the mysterious potion from Madam Pomfrey and downed it in one gulp.
Once they confirmed Harry was fine, and under Madam Pomfrey's death glare, the Gryffindor players left the hospital wing, laughing and joking.
Having brought Harry to the hospital wing so many times, they were well-acquainted with Madam Pomfrey's rules.
No matter how minor Harry's injuries were, Madam Pomfrey would insist on keeping him overnight for observation, only letting him leave the next day.
So there was no point in them waiting around.
Time to go, time to grab some lunch.
Watching his unscrupulous friends leave, Harry sighed.
If only Cho Chang had come to visit him.
If Kyle were here and knew what he was thinking, he would definitely roast him mercilessly—Did Liu, Guan, and Zhang swear their brotherhood in your mouth or what?
Lying like a corpse in the hospital wing, Harry looked around out of sheer boredom, hoping to find a fellow patient to chat with.
Unfortunately, in the massive hospital wing, he was entirely alone.
Even Professor Lupin, who had taken a leave of absence from teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts recently due to feeling unwell, wasn't there.
For the past week, Snape had been covering their Defense Against the Dark Arts classes.
Although Snape was a good person—to be exact, he was only nice to Harry—it might be unfair to Snape, but Harry felt that when it came to Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Lupin's teaching was still a bit more interesting.
Lupin would lead them to see all kinds of live dark creatures, rather than just showing them slides.
Snape, on the other hand, would only dryly lecture them on the textbook content, at most accompanied by a few slides.
Of course, this was mainly because Snape had skipped a large portion of the preceding material and flipped straight to the chapter on werewolves.
Grindylows, Kappas, and Red Caps were all relatively low-danger magical creatures, even if they looked quite intimidating.
But a werewolf... Snape couldn't exactly go and catch one for this group of young wizards, could he?
Granted, if they asked Hagrid to step in, let alone a werewolf, Hagrid could probably tie up a dragon and bring it over.
But that wasn't realistic.
If the werewolf suddenly went berserk, it would just mean another soul claimed by Snape's Sectumsempra.
Thinking of this, Harry suddenly missed Professor Lupin's Defense Against the Dark Arts class a little.
Unfortunately, Lupin would still have to wait a while before he could come back to teach them.
He naturally knew the reason why Professor Lupin wasn't staying in the hospital wing—Lupin was a werewolf.
This was also why Snape, while covering the Defense Against the Dark Arts class, had skipped directly to page 394, the chapter on werewolves.
Last Friday, which was the day before Halloween, had been a full moon.
Even with the Wolfsbane Potion that Snape helped brew, Lupin was still unable to come and teach them.
The Wolfsbane Potion could only keep a werewolf rational during their transformation; it could not suppress the transformation itself during a full moon.
Not to mention, to get back at Lupin, Snape had added a lot of "extra kick" to the potion without compromising its effects, leaving Lupin thoroughly miserable and exhausted.
The next day, Sunday, Harry, who had already been discharged, knocked on the door of Professor Lupin's office.
The door opened with a creak, and Lupin, his face still somewhat pale, appeared behind it.
"Harry?" Lupin was somewhat surprised by Harry's visit.
"Professor Lupin, are you feeling any better?" Harry asked, a hint of concern in his voice.
Hearing Harry's words, Lupin smiled warmly. "Much better, thank you for asking."
He stepped aside from the doorway. "Come in and take a seat."
Harry followed Lupin into the office.
Harry was no stranger to this room; last year, he had helped Lockhart reply to his fans here.
Come to think of it, replying to Lockhart's fans hadn't actually been all that terrible.
On the contrary, Harry even missed that night a little.
There was no shortage of extremely fanatical individuals among Lockhart's female fans.
To grab the attention of their beloved idol, they would truly do anything, including enclosing certain selfies in the envelopes that a kid like him definitely shouldn't be looking at.
As everyone knows, photographs in the wizarding world can move.
It was on that very night that an oblivious Harry, under the guidance of numerous passionately enthusiastic older sisters, received a crucially important enlightenment lesson in his life.
That very night, back in the Gryffindor common room, Harry left his "dreams" scattered across a vast, endless grassland—experiencing his very first wet dream.
Ahem, digressing, digressing.
"Would you like a cup of tea?" Lupin asked, looking around for his tea tin. "I was just thinking of brewing one."
Although studying tea leaves in Professor Trelawney's Divination class had bored him to tears with tea, Harry still nodded.
"Sure, Professor."
"What kind of tea would you like?" Lupin opened a nearby cabinet, only to find there was just a single bag of black tea left.
Before Harry could answer, Lupin turned back and gave him an awkward smile.
"Sorry, I don't have any other tea leaves left. Is black tea okay?"
A moment later, Lupin handed Harry a steaming cup of hot black tea.
Looking at Harry's face, Lupin dazed off for a moment.
"Every time I see you, it always reminds me of my past with James."
A look of reminiscence flickered in his eyes.
Sighing, Lupin's expression dimmed slightly. "Unfortunate, we can never go back to the past."
Harry knew he was referring to Peter Pettigrew's betrayal of his parents.
To prevent the atmosphere in the office from becoming too melancholy, Harry took the initiative to change the subject.
"Professor, are you still in touch with my godfather? Ever since he sent me that package, I haven't been able to contact him at all."
————
Supporting me on Pa-treon to gain early access to advanced chapters and enjoy expedited updates. Your support is greatly appreciated.
pat-reon .c-om/Dragonhair
(Just remove the hyphen - and space, to access Pa-treon normally.)