Chapter 12: Frequent visitor?!

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I wonder if the room can conjure something for my headache, but apparently that doesn't include anything edible.

Which is odd, considering that it's possible to conjure water. And birds, which I presume you can capture and cook.

But perhaps those things disappear in time, and you get no nourishment out of them? In any case I manage to get a cold cloth out of it.

After a few minutes of lying down with the cloth over my face, I'm able to sit up, and then stand a few minutes after that. Eventually I make my way to the exit, where I whimper at the loss of coolness against my forehead.

By the time I reach the Great Hall, I'm walking at a reasonably good clip; that is, somewhat faster than my sloth-like movements when I first started. At least the steps aren't rattling my brains anymore.

"Hey, we missed you at lun—hey, what happened?" Hermione jumps up and squeaks when she noticed my condition, and Harry and Ron follow suit as if ready to spring into action.

I wince at the sound. "Could you—" I start, but my voice is garbled with unnatural sleep, causing me to cough and try to clear my throat. "Could you keep it down? I feel like I got ran over by a troll."

"A troll?" Ron exclaims, looking around fearfully. "Where?"

"Ow..." I moan.

"It's an expression, Ronald," Hermione says exasperatedly, then turns to me with a more concerned look. "We should get you to the Hospital Wing."

"But I'm starving, I missed lunch..."

She gives me a pained look, but turns and starts piling food on my plate. "So what happened, then?"

"Just practicing...got a bit carried away is all..."

"Oh no! You could be suffering from magical exhaustion! We should get you to the—"

I moan at the shrill reprimand and she clamps her hand over her mouth. "I know, I know, just let me eat a bit," I insist.

"What are your symptoms?" she asks, blessedly quietly.

"Headache, abdominal pain, mostly, and sensitivity to sound, and light," I say, counting each symptom off on my fingers. "Oh, and I passed out for about six hours."

"Six hours?" Her shrill voice ricochets around the inside of my skull, as if somebody crashed symbols inside of it.

"Ohhhh..."

"Hermione, sensitivity to sound, remember?" Harry whispers urgently.

"Sorry..." she whispers to me.

I slowly nod in response, not wanting to toss my brain about even more. I enjoy a minute of quiet, eating in peace.

"Why were you practicing?" Hermione asks, thankfully keeping her voice low. "I thought you had to take care of something."

"That was it," I say.

"But I thought we were going to practice," she says, a bit of hurt entering her voice.

"We are, but I didn't want to embarrass myself," I say, forcing a tiny smile. "Well, not too badly, anyway."

"I doubt that would have been the case."

I fight the urge to snort, afraid that it'll hurt. "You'd be surprised."

She watches me put down my fork. "Well, how are you feeling now?"

"Getting better, actually," I say slowly. "I'm pretty sure I was dehydrated and hungry. Still am, really," I say, taking another drink of water, "but I don't think I can eat any more food right now."

She presses her lips together, probably torn between bossing me to go and trying to seem less bossy. "I still think we should go."

I consider it for a moment. "I think it would be good to know how to get there, at least."

Harry snorts but says nothing.

"Frequent visitor?" I ask, smiling. I stop smiling, though. It hurts.

"You could say that," Harry says.

"I think Harry might know that place better than Pomfrey herself," Ron says with a laugh.

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"Well, that's it, Mr. Lerner, you're free to go. Just take it easy – try to avoid casting any spells tonight, if possible," the Hogwarts matron says in a very business-like manner. She's not the same kind of stern as Professor McGonagall, but there is an equal lack of warmth.

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."

"And thank you for bringing him in, Ms. Granger."

Hermione blushes and nods as we take our leave.

"Thank you for making me go. That potion was nasty, but it made me feel much better," I say after the door closes.

"Well, you needed it," she says firmly. "I'm glad you think so – usually I have to drag Harry by his ear. When he's conscious, I mean."

I chuckle lightly. "Sounds like a frequent occurrence."

"Oh, you have no idea."

"Any good stories? We've got a bit of a walk, after all." I want to get back to the Room of Requirement, but I can't figure out a way to do that without raising suspicion.

"Hmm, oh! Well, you see, Second Year we had this awful professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts. His name is Gilderoy Lockhart, have you heard of him?" I nod, and she proceeds to tell me the time he removed the bones from Harry's entire arm from the elbow down.

Then she continues to tell me about many other of the fraud's deficiencies, deftly avoiding anything related to the basilisk or the Chamber of Secrets.

We're both laughing so hard at Lockhart's antics that I don't even notice that we're in front of the Fat Lady guarding the entrance to the Gryffindor common room.

I suddenly try to think up an excuse. "Uh, you go ahead, I'm just going to...pick up something I dropped before I came down to dinner."

Hermione's face immediately becomes skeptical, then angry. "Oh no you don't, Mr. Lerner, you're not going to practice some more! You heard what Pomfrey said!"

"Hey, I'm not going to practice any spells, I swear!" That is a perfectly true statement.

"Well I'm coming with you then."

"Oh, but...uh, don't you have to meet up with Harry and Ron? You said you would when we came back." Yeah, that's a pathetic argument, I know.

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