Basilisk Eyes

Chapter 6: Creature-induced injuries

Slowly, Harry pushed himself to sitting as the sick around him was being spelled away by a flustered Madam Pomfrey. Her charm infused the area with a peppermint aroma that was gradually overtaking the vomit stench. For a fleeting moment, as he thought about what he'd eaten that morning, he was glad he couldn't see. His head was still spinning and acid burned his throat. He kept his hands splayed on the floor in an effort to settle the rotating room.

Gradually he became aware that he was in a hub of activity—people were rushing around him, some almost tripping over him.

A white-hot fury built in his stomach. "Why did you just push me in there? How can I know when it's time to exit the bloody fireplace if I CAN'T BLOODY WELL SEE?!" His fear and embarrassment had boiled up into a molten rage that erupted nearly as fiercely as the vomit had. And then he cringed, bracing for a blow. He had lost control and he was going to pay for it. He tensed, his breath coming in short gasps.

Madam Pomfrey sputtered, "I'm so sorry, Harry. You are absolutely right. I don't know what I was thinking, sending a blind child through the Floo on his own... and why won't the Headmaster approve of adding an Egress to St. Mungo's, I don't know... "

"I am not blind," Harry seethed, but his rage had cooled. He had never known her to be so discomposed, and it startled him.

"Here, let's get you out of the corridor—we're in the way here, right in front of the Floo exit," she said, as she put a hand on his arm and attempted to lift him up. He stood unsteadily. He was still really dizzy and was having a hard time standing up completely—he kept listing to one side and then the other. The corridor was lit differently than Hogwarts and there didn't seem to be the same expanse of windows that made the hospital wing so impossibly bright. Harry felt around in his robes to find his glasses and put them on just in case they were headed somewhere brighter.

As he was still so out of balance, Madam Pomfrey ended up guiding him down the corridor with an arm around his shoulders and her other hand holding his awkwardly, her medibag thumping against his back with every other step. They entered a room that sounded large and crowded, filled with sobs, quiet sniffles, some cries of children and infants, barks, and other noises that he couldn't quite identify. Some people were talking in hushed tones to others who were asking quiet questions as if they were conducting interviews.

"Here's a chair. Sit here a moment," Madam Pomfrey backed him up to a chair and he slumped in relief into the chair when his knees hit it. "And here's a draught of ginger tonic to settle your tummy and cleanse your mouth."

She tapped the back of his hand with a goblet that she must have conjured since he didn't hear her open her medibag. He wrapped his hands around it.

"Drink it while I go check you in," she said and he sipped it while listening to her receding footsteps. The ginger tonic was spicy and bubbly, a sister to ginger ale, but more effervescent.

Harry listened to the people around him. Someone close by smelled pretty ripe. There was a man and a woman trying to soothe a hiccuping baby who'd break out into full-on wails, then be bounced back to fussiness. They had another kid with them who was running between the chairs making car noises with their mouth (he couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl). Their thudding steps came closer Harry until the child was at the seat next to him, pushing a toy over the surface of the seat. They stopped and were quiet.

"Hello," Harry said, turning his head in their direction.

"My car flies," the child informed him.

"Oh! Well, watch out for whomping willows, then. They're bad for flying cars," he joked.

The child made a quizzical sound and zoomed away, back to the safety of their parents from what Harry could tell.