The Hospital Wing

As Harry forced his heavy eyelids open, he heard quiet conversation around him, punctuated by the occasional chuckle.

"Do you think he hurt his brain?"

"Very possible, I reckon. He did land face-first."

"Maybe the fall knocked some sense into him, then."

Harry struggled to bring his surroundings into focus and found himself surrounded by familiar faces. Waking from unconsciousness to see so many people he knew really did lift his spirits.

Neville's face, covered in paint, was especially eye-catching. Harry spotted him first, followed by George Weasley and Fred Weasley peering over everyone's shoulders at the back.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione Granger sat on the edge of the bed, looking with concern at her close male friend—her guy bestie, as some would call him.

Having only just woken up, Harry's mind was still a muddle, and all he could do was grin foolishly.

"You gave us quite a scare, mate." The twins darted over to his bedside.

After fumbling about for a moment, Harry took his glasses from Hermione Granger and put them on.

"What happened?" His last memory was of being high in the air. He had no idea how much time had passed.

"What do you think happened? You fell off your broom. If it weren't for Dumbledore, you'd have ended up a puddle of Harry Potter."

"I'd almost say you were lucky. You have no idea what happened afterward," George Weasley added, still looking shaken. Everyone around him looked rather grim.

"What happened, then?" Harry was confused. What could possibly have left so many people with such unpleasant memories? Surely only Voldemort could manage that.

Everyone paused, as though waiting for someone who could calmly explain what had happened.

Eli glanced around. "After Madam Pomfrey took you away, over a hundred Dementors invaded the pitch.