No need," Ron said, nudging her and gesturing behind them to the other end of the infirmary, where Professor Snape was stood, talking quietly with Madame Pomfrey. "See you at breakfast, Harry?"
"Hope so," he nodded, glancing down at his arm.
"Try and get some rest," Hermione told him, sounding more like his mother than his friend. "In the meantime, we'll try and find out what happened on the Quidditch pitch today."
"What do you mean?" he asked, puzzled.
"Oh come on, Harry. I'm no Quidditch expert, but even I know that bludgers aren't supposed to behave like that – somebody bewitched it," she informed him.
Harry frowned, only really thinking about it now for the first time. The way the ball had behaved was odd.
"But who do you think…?"
"I don't know," Hermione told him. "But I intend to find out."
With that, she pulled at Ron's arm, and the two of them headed out of the infirmary.
It was several moments later that Professor Snape appeared, gesturing for Harry to move his legs and sitting down on the edge of the bed.
After a brief silence, the potions master took Harry's arm gently in his hands to examine it more closely, causing the boy to wince at the sharp pains that had begun to stir deep beneath his skin.
"That is a positive sign, suggesting that the potion has begun to work," Snape told him. "What were you thinking, Harry?"
"I couldn't help it! It was that bludger–" Harry began.
"I am not referring to the ball, idiot child. I am simply mystified as to why you thought it would be a good idea to let that incompetent nitwit attempt to heal you," Snape clarified.
"I didn't! I tried to tell him to stop but he wouldn't listen!" he cried, defensively.
Snape let go of his arm, a disgusted expression on his face as it flopped back down onto the bed. "I see. Well in that case, I think we can safely say you have learned your lesson. In future, you are to steer clear of that buffoon. And you do not allow him – or any other member of staff for that matter – to perform any fantastical attempts at healing you. If you are injured, you are to report immediately to Madame Pomfrey."
"Or you," he said.
For a moment, the potions master was tempted to apprehend the little whelp for his cheek. But looking up, into those godforsaken eyes, he saw nothing but innocence and sincerity, and instead cleared his throat.
"Indeed."
"Hermione said somebody jinxed that bludger," Harry told him softly, after a brief pause. "Do you think she's right?"
"I think… it most certainly appeared to have been tampered with," the professor said, carefully.