"Harry Potter- Ravenclaw"Chapter 175: Back in the Hospital Wing Before Christmas—Again!
The python slithered completely free of the skull, which was now veined with a web of fine, splintering cracks—like frost on glass.
The serpent paused, glancing back at the fractured skull. Its once-bleached surface had deepened to the color of granite, heavy and ominous.
Boom!
With a sudden, violent lash of its tail, the python shattered the granite-like skull. Fragments burst apart, crumbling to dust and swirling outward in a cloud.
At that instant, a flood of memories surged into Wyzett's mind.
The sheer weight of these memories sent his vision spinning to black. He felt himself falling backward—only to be caught just in time before he hit the ground.
Snape's brow was slick with sweat, the veins in his bloodshot eyes standing out starkly. Though his left arm trembled violently, he managed to steady Wyzett by the shoulder, keeping him upright.
Dumbledore stepped forward at once, conjuring a soft bed with a wave of his wand and easing Wyzett onto it.
His expression grave, he asked, "Is it the Dark Mark again?"
Snape nodded, rolling up his sleeve for a closer look. "Much worse than before… like the Cruciatus Curse, but only for a split second…"
The Dark Mark on his left arm was as black as ink, yet already beginning to fade.
He twisted his arm, checking it from every angle. "It's gone again… exactly like last time…"
In the span of a single breath, the Dark Mark had vanished, his skin returning to its normal color as though nothing had happened.
"Wyzett… what on earth is going on?" Snape looked down at the boy on the conjured bed, his face a tangle of worry and frustration. "One incident after another… it never ends…"
"That depends on whether you're willing to trust him, Severus," Dumbledore said quietly, his gaze gentle. "For my part, I do."
Snape dropped his sleeve and wiped his brow. "Even if it costs you your life? Even if he puts a Killing Curse in your back?"
"If that's my fate…" Dumbledore smiled, a twinkle in his eye. "Have I ever told you? To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."
"An adventure, is it? And just where might she go adventuring?" For a moment, Snape's expression turned distant—then his familiar gloom returned. "If death is an adventure, does it have an end? And if so, will we meet again at its conclusion?"
"I don't know…" Dumbledore sighed softly. "Perhaps once, I might have believed so. Now… I'm not sure."
"You want to try, don't you?" Snape's lips curled in a wry smile. "Just to see if you could find someone in that so-called adventure?"
Dumbledore's answering smile was gentle—and enigmatic. "What about you, Severus?"
Snape's eyelids drooped. He didn't answer directly, but instead asked, "So what now? Back to the surface, or another round of searching?"
Dumbledore scanned the chamber, then raised his wand to check the statue once more before making up his mind.
"Let's head back for now. If we want to solve the puzzle here, we'll need more Parseltongue. Maybe we can 'draw the snake out' and force the Heir to reveal himself."
Not only did Skele-Gro taste absolutely foul, but the Soul-Soothing Draught was just as bad.
The Skele-Gro burned like fire—swallowing it felt like gulping down a lump of glowing coal.
The Soul-Soothing Draught chilled like ice—thick, slushy, and freezing as it slid down his throat.
After downing both, he felt trapped between fire and ice—sometimes burning, sometimes shivering, the agony relentless.
He had no idea how he'd finally fallen asleep. All he remembered was the searing and freezing in his body, and the stabbing, twisting pain in his arm.
According to Madam Pomfrey, that was what it felt like to regrow bones—which was why she paired it with the soul-soothing potion, to help him sleep and blunt the pain.
The Skele-Gro was certainly effective. The pain in his arm told him that bones were, indeed, knitting themselves back together.
At last, exhaustion dragged him into a fitful sleep.
But then a fresh wave of pain jolted him awake—apparently a new bone had just finished growing, and the ache was sharper than ever.
Still half-dreaming, he saw shadowy figures moving before his eyes.
A voice murmured, "Muffliato," and a faint buzzing filled his ears.
Normally, it would have been barely noticeable, but with his arm throbbing so violently, the sound seemed to echo.
He struggled to lift his head and saw Madam Pomfrey glaring at him, her expression thunderous.
Harry was no stranger to the hospital wing, or to Madam Pomfrey's stern looks.
What surprised him were the other two faces—Dumbledore and Snape.
Dumbledore kept nodding, occasionally raising a hand as if he were back in Transfiguration class.
Snape was even more outlandish—arms folded, occasionally tossing in a word or two. There was clear impatience in his eyes, but he stood his ground and listened…
Just like Harry himself in Potions.
Harry lifted his good hand to his forehead.
Warm—no fever. So he wasn't hallucinating.
He blinked and spotted Wyzett lying on the opposite bed. Suddenly, he understood why Madam Pomfrey was so angry.
But… why was she so obviously furious, yet he couldn't hear a thing?
Was he dreaming?
Harry rubbed his eyes, only to see Snape turn and fix him with a cold, unblinking stare.
A chill ran down Harry's spine. He quickly lowered his head.
Definitely dreaming…
Madam Pomfrey scolding Snape, the way Snape scolded him…
How could he dream up something like this?
The soul-soothing potion still lingered in his system. Harry yawned, and soon drifted back into a dazed slumber…
…
In truth, Madam Pomfrey was, indeed, furious.
"Once again, just before Christmas holiday—Wyzett is back in the hospital wing! When you brought Harry in earlier, he was full of energy. How did he suddenly collapse?"
Snape crossed his arms and jerked his head toward Dumbledore. "Ask him."
"Just a minor issue…" Dumbledore replied smoothly, holding his thumb and forefinger a hair's breadth apart. "Poppy, you examined him yourself—he's just exhausted, fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow…"
"Ha!" Snape snorted, twice, with icy amusement.
Madam Pomfrey arched an eyebrow. "As a Potions Master, shouldn't you know when a boy is overtired? Why not send him back to his dormitory?"
"You'd better ask him!" Snape shot back, repeating himself. "The great Headmaster Dumbledore says… 'danger always follows wizards'—so Wyzett needs a bit more adventure in his life."
🔥 Want to read the next 50+ chapters RIGHT NOW?
💎 Patreon members get instant access!
⚡ Limited-time offer currently running...
👉 [Join on - patreon.com/GoldenLong]