What Lies Ahead

Eleven

It was the calmness in Dumbledore's statement that forced Harry's sobs to fade into sniffles. Dobby was gone and there was nothing he could do to change that.  He pulled himself onto his knees but the room began to tip nauseatingly from side to side as if they were suddenly on a ship deck. He slumped sideways and Professor Dumbledore caught him.

"You need the hospital wing," the headmaster declared urgently. He rose to his feet and stooping, picked Harry up gently from the floor. He paused for a minute, examining the clock face beside the door then shook his head. "Not during dinner," he muttered to himself.

Walking past his desk, Professor Dumbledore carried Harry across the office and, reaching a door, nudged it open with a bump of his foot. Inside was an adjoining living quarter large enough to hold two bookshelves, a small writing desk, and a grand four-poster bed that was neatly adorned with a deep violet duvet and matching hangings. The setting sun showed through two open windows on the west wall, washing the room in fading golden light.

Dumbledore sat Harry carefully on the edge of the spring mattress, holding his shoulders to keep him from falling sideways. Harry immediately doubled over, arms crossed protectively over his aching ribs. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath in an attempt to steady the swaying scenery.

"Can you tell me what hurts, Harry?" Dumbledore had knelt down in front of him, hands still rest reassuringly on his shoulders. "I don't want to lay you down until I know what may be injured."

Harry opened his eyes and found Dumbledore's blue gaze peering over those half-moon glasses. His thin lips pulled into a comforting smile and Harry felt himself relax. "M-my back and wrists," Harry stammered, trying to find his voice among the ache in his throat. "And…and I think my ribs are…are…" He tried to motion to the bones along his lift side but the movement of his arm took his breath away. He gasped and grimaced, tilting his head slightly as if it would help alleviate the pain. Gritting his teeth, he forced back a wave of sick that was rising threateningly in the back of his throat.

"It's okay," Dumbledore said quickly. Releasing Harry's shoulders, he tugged the duvet back at the corner revealing fluffy white sheets below, and grabbed a pillow from the headboard. "Here, lie down." He guided Harry to his right side, holding back the sheets for him to move under.

"I…I'll ruin the sheets," Harry said and then flushed with embarrassment. His body was broken and he was worried about getting blood on the bedding.

Dumbledore smiled and shook his head. "I can get new linens, Harry. Lay down."

The cool, soft cotton enveloped him, stifling the heat that had been spreading across his aching limbs. He allowed himself to sink into the feather mattress as his eyes fluttered close in relief; he was safe, for now. Except, he couldn't ignore the intense throbbing that rippled across his back like waves on the ocean; pulsing in and out rhythmically.

"Thadeus," Professor Dumbledore called to a portrait out in the office. He had moved to stand in the doorway, leaning back against the frame, apparently wary of leaving Harry alone.  "Find Minerva. She is either at dinner or in her room. Tell her I need her and Poppy in my office immediately. We will need a blood replenishing potion and a potion for dreamless sleep. If she doesn't have any on hand then find Severu…"

"No!" Harry had sat up, cold fear chasing away any pain he had been feeling. "Please! Anyone but Snape," he pleaded, eyes wide.

Professor Dumbledore's brows furrowed, apparently caught off guard by the sudden outburst. He studied Harry for a moment and then nodded. "Just Minerva and Poppy, Thadeus. And be discreet. I don't want anyone else to know about this."

Satisfied with his orders, Dumbledore returned to the bedside and coaxed Harry to lay back down. "Why not Professor Snape, Harry," he asked hesitantly as he pulled the covers back onto Harry's shoulder.