Imogen a Harry Potter taleChapter 62
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Malfoy awoke.
It was the second time he'd awoken - he knew that much, at least. The first time could have been five minutes before, or five days. He remembered hearing movement in the room where he lay, and opening his eyes, seeing someone dressed only in white. And then a welcome return to nothingness.
This time he felt like he would stay awake, or at least that he could if he wanted to. He wasn't sure if he wanted to. His head pounded, keeping regular time with his heartbeat. Aside from the pain, there was the fatigue. He remembered now that it was the tremendous fatigue that had overtaken him during his earlier, brief period of consciousness.
His eyes were still closed, and before opening them, Malfoy focused his thoughts on the present. He had been hurt - that much was clear, for this was the dominant thought in his mind the moment he surfaced. But how? He was unable make his mind go backwards in an organized way, and so he went far back, and worked his way forwards. He remembered getting on the Hogwarts express, in the compartment with his Slytherin friends. Then falling asleep briefly, waking up just as the train was arriving.
No one there to meet him - not the first time this had happened. He'd been angry. Every other student had at least one parent waiting on the platform, eager to welcome their boy or girl home. But once again his parents had other things to do. His father, busy serving the Dark Lord, no doubt. And his mother? Perhaps entertaining important guests at the family estate, or playing bridge with well-connected society women.
He'd stepped out of the train onto the platform, heading for the stairs out of the station to a place from which he could safely apparate, his father having taught him how the year before. Normally magic had to be concealed from Muggles, but his apparating ability had to be hidden from magical folk as well, for his use of it was illegal, of course - he would not be allowed to apparate until he was seventeen. Contrary to wizarding law, already he had acquired great skill, but the following year at Hogwarts, he'd have to take the apparation course like everyone else, and pretend to have a difficult time learning.
Annoyed with his absent parents and feeling sorry for himself, he'd left platform nine and three-quarters, making his way to another section of the station, and then headed for a staircase down to below ground level. There were too many people around and no where to be alone. He knew that the next best thing to being alone was to be in a dense crowd, for no one would notice him disappear in a packed railway station. He was in a hurry to get home - he remembered that clearly now, but there his memories ended, with him half-way down a staircase. After that, blackness.
"You had quite a fall, you know."
At this, Malfoy opened his eyes. He was in a semi-reclining position in a bed with a metal frame on each side. Small, strange boxes with glass faces displayed coloured lights, and there were odd beeping sounds coming from some of them.
"How did you know I was awake?" he replied, his eyes moving about the room, attempting to find the person with the clear treble voice who'd addressed him.
"That one, there," she said, pointing to one of the boxes. "That's displaying your level of brain activity. It told me you were awake."
"Must learn the charm for that," said Malfoy, and then he drifted off to sleep once more.
It was night the next time he awoke. This time the horrible pounding in his head was gone, and he knew he was on the mend. He was flat on his back, and he attempted to sit up - a mistake. He began to dry heave, the awful sound bringing a visitor to his room, a man this time, also in white like the girl who'd been there earlier. Looking at Malfoy briefly, the man returned with a glass of water and a very small white ball on a saucer.
"Swallow this - it will stop the retching."
"What is it?" asked Malfoy.
"What do you think it is?" replied the man. "A pill. Gravol, if you must. Please take it." Malfoy felt the upper half of the bed rising seemingly of its own volition, yet he hadn't seen the healer use a wand. Strange. Now partially elevated, Malfoy obeyed the instructions given him, and put the pill in his mouth.
"You're not supposed to chew it," said the healer. "Just put some water in your mouth and swallow."
The pill tasted truly awful, and Malfoy swilled the water around trying to get rid of the flavour.
"This isn't St. Mungo's, I don't think," said Malfoy. "Where am I?" He was speaking to an empty room - the healer had left.
Later he dreamed about the encounter, and asked the same question. To his surprise, he got an answer.
"Whittington. Your at the Whittington Hospital." It was the same girl who'd told him he'd had a fall.
"Didn't know there was another," said Malfoy. "Thought there was just St. Mungo's."
In the pause before the girl spoke, Malfoy could hear in the silence the girl's concern for him.
"You talk very strangely when your asleep - I guess it's the head injury, because you're talking the same even when you're awake. Are you up for a bit of a test? Won't take long. No need for another GCS - I think you're way past that now. Mind you, you scored a three when you arrived - the lowest possible.
"Is it hard?" said Malfoy.
"Is what hard?"
"The test - the GCS."
"The Glasgow Coma Scale? Not at all. It's not really a test - more like a measurement."
"I scored a three - you said it was the lowest. Isn't a zero the lowest?"
"Three is the lowest score if you're alive. You'd have to be dead to score zero."
"So there's a three point bonus for being alive," observed Malfoy. "I wish it were the same at Hogwarts."
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