Harry's last memory was of an incomparably brilliant burst of green light.
The next second, pain wracked his entire body.
His consciousness slowly gathered back into his body. As he gradually came to, he realized he was lying face-down on the hard stone floor of the Chamber of Secrets. The stone was cold and damp, carrying an indescribable faint stench.
Something seemed to have happened after that green light. He tried hard to remember, but could not recall anything at all.
Of course, now was not the time to search for his memories.
The spot slightly behind his cheek stung, as though the broken arm of his glasses had pierced it. Perhaps his glasses had been damaged when he had just thrown himself to the ground. His mouth hung slightly open, and there was a trace of bloodiness in it. He did not know whether it was the taste of blood or the smell of the stone floor in the Chamber of Secrets.
Though every part of his body hurt.
He also felt strangely, exceptionally light.
It was as though a soaking wet overcoat he had worn for a long time had been taken off, or as though certain chains that had always shackled his body had vanished—somewhat like the sensation two years ago, after he had first left the Dursleys' home, when his whole body had felt so light that he could fly; and somewhat like the exhilaration of his first flying lesson, when he mounted his broom and kicked off hard with both legs, leaving the ground.
"—Oh, Harry, Harry."
Hermione's soft sobs sounded beside his ear. He could vaguely feel several warm tears falling onto him. Harry tried to control his body and move, to tell Hermione that he was not dead yet, but his body seemed