About Harry

Albus

The hell I'll go away. I'll stay here outside the door to catch whatever I can! And damn me not to have brought some extendable ears. Uncle George is right, you never know when you may need them!

As it is I press my ear against the door hoping to be able to discern something. But it's only a low buzz the one that reaches me.

After a very short time I hear the noise of her heels getting closer. I lunge at full speed behind a trolley just in time not to be spotted. I see her turning the corner with a purposeful air; therefore, I don't leave my spot. I'm sure she'll be back, and I know to be right not even five minutes later. A brown bag is dangling from her shoulder and looking shiftily right and left, she slips again in dad's room.

I crawl quickly back against the door. I hear some tinkling sound, very much like glass bottles being handled, some low buzzing and then silence, a rather long silence and then a tinkling sound and nothing more for a bit.

After what it seems to me a very long time, I hear again her heels. Fast as a lightening I'm back in my hiding spot.

The bloody nurse has got such a smugness on her face, such a glee, I have some job mastering my frustration.

She tosses back her voluminous hair and dipping from her handbag a small mirror, she checks her face. Satisfied of what she sees, she lets it fall again in it and walk away. Just as she turns the corner, I realise she has not the brown bag with her anymore.

I wait a few minutes just to be safe albeit I know by her satisfied grin she won't be back again.

I tip toe toward the door which has been left ajar and I peek inside. There is not much to be seen. Dad is simply sleeping.

I push the door open, and I get in. The brown bag is nowhere to be seen.

I amble over the desk to write a letter to Rose but, while at it, I found myself unable to concentrate; my head is heavily keeping dangling from my neck; my mind is so hazed I can hardly make out what I'm writing. And I know it's no good. I need to take a nap before to be able to write anything of consequences. The emotions of the morning have quite worn me out.

I slouch on the armchair covering with the blanket, my eyelids feel so heavy. I give in to the body's urge of closing them knowing I'll fall asleep quickly once they are shut.

Many confused thoughts and images are behind those eyelids before I can nod off, but it's Rose the only one I see clearly just before it happens.