"Harry, Harry?"
A voice echoed beside Harry's ear, sounding anxious and worried.
"What happened, mate?"
Another, somewhat bewildered voice reached his ears.
"Was Hermione right? Is your scar hurting again?"
The two voices kept alternating in Harry's mind. They sounded close, yet as vague and indistinct as if separated from him by a dream. At the same time, two figures were desperately waving before his eyes. Harry blinked hard, trying to see them clearly. His muddled consciousness left him unable to tell how long had passed, but then, at some unknown moment, his sharp senses suddenly returned to his body.
Hiss—
Harry sucked in a sharp breath and sprang up from the ground. Then, like a drowning man finally breaking the surface just before suffocating, he bent over and gasped loudly for air.
"Are you all right, Harry? Are you back to yourself?"
Hermione cried anxiously in a lowered voice as she pounded hard on Harry's back. The force of it made Harry feel as though Hermione wanted to snap his spine. He appreciated her attempt to help, but considering the outcome, he would have preferred her to stand quietly by like Ron, at a complete loss.
"I don't want to spend the rest of my life in a wheelchair, Hermione, so could you stop hitting me?"
Once Harry showed that he was thinking clearly and able to speak, Hermione immediately stopped. She covered her mouth with both hands, tears glistening in her excited eyes. It seemed what had just happened to him had truly frightened her badly.
But Harry had no time to comfort her. Once his breathing had eased somewhat, he instinctively covered the scar on his forehead. Then he realized that during however long he had been unconscious, his formerly dry hair had become drenched, as if