𝑆𝐸𝐶𝑂𝑁𝐷 𝐶𝐻𝐴𝑁𝐶𝐸𝑆 // 𝐽𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑃𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑖𝑐

Chapter 10: James Potter is Now Anaemic

32 minutes later. . .

The sounds being heard was the clattering of glass and rushed footsteps of her own feet going back and forth. Time was an evil thing at a point like this, rotting away with every passing second and draining her hope bit by bit. A clear image of a torturous hourglass in her mind, each grain of sand that passed through was another second gone to waste. Time had no conscience and no remorse for situations such as this, taking advantage of the vulnerability and tearing it to pieces. She felt her mind spinning. Her breathing quickened. Her steps faltered.

She rested her head against the wall, pleading for him to just be okay.

The sound of a curtain drawn made her heart skip a beat.

Her shoes squeaked on the ground as she spun, both hands grabbing the back of her neck to keep herself upright. She didn't have to say anything.

"He's okay," Madam Pomfrey assured. She stood aside to let Nova have a view of him. He was lying on his back with pillows puffed up to raise his head, his glasses were off, making him look even more like a stranger to her.

She let a breath escape her lips. "Good." Her shoulders instantly relaxed and her stomach was no longer tense. Time had finally let go. The hourglass has been shattered.

"And he won't have any-" she stopped, trying to decipher what it was she really wanted to ask. "He'll be okay, afterwards? No side effects? No damage has been done?" She doesn't want to be held responsible for this incident, after all, if she hadn't placed that box there, he wouldn't have fallen. She doesn't say that out loud, though.

Pomfrey shook her head, "no dear. He'll be as fit as anything by the morning."

"The morning?! But isn't that—" Uncertainty began to build.

"That's standard procedure," Madam Pomfrey was quick to assure, "after what his body went through, I gave him a mild sedative to help ensure his body was doing everything it can. He'll be awakening any moment now."

"What if he had a concussion and you put him to sleep? I heard him hit his head—"

"He doesn't have a concussion."

"And you're sure?"

"Positive."

"Right. Okay. So. . . so he's asleep to be sure his body is receiving enough oxygen." It was almost a question. Almost.

"Yes." Madam Pomfrey looked to James then back to Nova before closing the curtains over his bed. She walked over to Nova, who was biting at her nails in uncertainty.

"May I ask Ms Dubois," she began, "how is it you knew of Spiritus Largitor? It isn't exactly common knowledge for most students."

"I just—"

James' voice interrupted before she even started to explain. "Spirit what now?!"

The curtains sure as hell aren't soundproof, she thought.

Madam Pomfrey was quick to draw the fabric back and attend to James. The back of her hand went to his forehead, urging him to drink an oddly coloured liquid next to him, asking him repeatedly if anything was bothering him.

"Well," he smirked, "if you're offering, I wouldn't mind getting my glasses to be able to see. If that's okay with you, Poppy." He spoke to her as if they had known each other for years — and who knows? Maybe they have known each other for years, after all, Potter isn't one to be known for his sensibility and carefulness on the quidditch pitch.

He had his glasses back on his face, his eyes closing and opening rather violently to adjust to the new sight. Nova decided then that he suited his glasses.