The sunlight, carrying a hint of chill, streamed through the lattice window, spreading over the white sheets.
"...Child, the time together is always short. May you live well in the waking world..."
"Don't go, Mom..."
The boy suddenly sat up from the bed.
"...Mom?"
Staring at the blurry scene in front of him, the boy was dazed for a moment, then as if remembering something, he reached towards the side of the pillow. After fumbling around for a dozen seconds, he finally found his glasses wrapped in tape.
With a sigh of relief, the boy placed the glasses on his nose, and the blurry world became clear. He then recognized where he was.
"You're awake?"
A woman in a white robe pushed open the door, holding a steaming cup of magic potion. "Here, drink this, it might make you feel better." She handed the potion to Harry, who, sensing the indescribable smell, nearly grimaced like a bitter melon.
"No, Madam Pomfrey, I don't seem to have any discomfort—"
The boy instinctively wanted to refuse.
"Harry, you must drink it."
Her words had a tone of undeniable authority, and in the brief exchange of glances, Harry undeniably conceded.
After gulping down the potion, Harry instantly felt much better; his back didn't ache, his legs didn't hurt, his vision wasn't blurry, and he wasn't coughing when speaking. It was just that his head started flaming...
...
Staring at the boy with flaming hair in the glass reflection, Harry fell into several seconds of deep thought. Then he couldn't help but raise his hand to touch the green fire—oh, not hot?
"Is this normal?"
While returning the potion bottle to Madam Pomfrey, Harry pointed at his head and asked.
"Uh..."
"?"
Harry's face changed dramatically. He initially thought this was a normal side effect of taking the potion, but what was Madam Pomfrey's reaction?
Where's the medical ethics?
"Well, I don't know much. This was left for you by Dumbledore. Although I don't want him interfering with my treatments, your case is quite different." Madam Pomfrey paused and gently brushed the flame atop Harry's head, "Do you feel any discomfort now?"
"...No."
Harry closed his eyes and carefully sensed that aside from the flaming head, there seemed to be no issues.
"Then it should be fine—"
Madam Pomfrey pocketed the matchstick she conjured, as the fire seemed incapable of igniting anything. "Perhaps I should go ask Dumbledore..."
"What's the matter, Poppy?"
The door to the hospital wing was pushed open again from outside. Dressed in a light blue robe with white spots, Dumbledore walked in from outside, first closing the door before looking at Harry and the boy with the flaming hair. The old man paused for a moment, "...Nice new look?"
"...Professor, this seems to be a side effect of that potion?"
Harry pointed at Madam Pomfrey with the empty bottle.
"Pot... Oh, the senior said it aids digestion..." Dumbledore spoke softly at first, but before the two could react, he raised his voice again, "Ahem, well, Harry, do you feel anything unusual?"
"No, felt a bit dizzy when I first woke up, but got better after drinking the potion..."
Harry shook his head and repeated the answer.
Seeing the headmaster wanting to chat with the student, Madam Pomfrey tactfully carried the tray out, kindly closing the door for the elder and the youngster as she left.
"But, Professor, that dream..."
Seeing the unnecessary observers leave, Harry impatiently sat upright, staring at Dumbledore with urgency in his voice—because he could feel the extremely clear dream in his mind was fading away quickly, so quickly that he'd forgotten... forgotten what?
"That was a protective measure. Miss Granger and Professor Snape also entered your dream. For the sake of their mental health, we decided to blur the memory of the dream..." Dumbledore calmly sat down in the chair and retrieved a box from his pocket, "Want one?" He opened the box, and Harry recognized it as a box full of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.
Blurring the dream memory was surely necessary, for instance, Snape. After emerging from Harry's dream, even the professor who never missed a class skipped three days. Had William not acted, he might have skipped half a month.
"Oh..."
Harry obediently picked a bean and popped it in his mouth—pineapple-flavored.
"Harry, there are indeed wonderful things in dreams, but we can't let them hold us back, only... uh," At this point, the old man's face scrunched up; he lowered his head and spit the earth-flavored bean into the trash can, "This one's dirt-flavored. Honestly, I can't quite accept that taste—"
Saying this, he took out two white candy-coated pineapple jams, offering one to Harry.
"So..."
Harry leaned against the bed, nodding somewhat understandingly. He hesitated, "So, Professor, what kind of people are they?"
"James and Lily, they are good people. Rarely have I met anyone so brave, loyal, gentle..."
...
In the evening, Harry appeared in the Gryffindor common room with a flame atop his head.
"Toot toot—"
Multicolored ribbons fell like snow from the sky as the excited Weasley Twins led a group swiftly from the sides of the common room. They lifted the still bewildered Harry, chanting in unison, "Harry Potter is our king, Harry Potter is our king—"
The tomfoolery continued for a long while until most had spent their energy. Harry finally managed to escape the terrifying circle.
"...Uh, what's happened here?"
Harry looked at Hermione munching on an apple pie, which was reportedly "borrowed" from the kitchen by the Weasley Twins and their crew.
"Originally, they planned a criticism meeting because you missed the Quidditch final, causing Ravenclaw to win the Quidditch Cup, but..." Hermione sized Harry up a bit confused, "Three days ago, you earned Gryffindor sixty points. If nothing unexpected happens, we'll likely win this year's House Cup—"
Hermione's voice carried a bit of dissatisfaction. She prepped tirelessly, raised her hand in class, and worked hard just to earn a few dozen points, while Harry lay there and earned...
Tsk.
Hermione scratched her head, feeling she perhaps forgot something important.
Equally discontent was Wood, who in his eyes deemed the House Cup far less significant than the Quidditch Cup. At this moment, he sat nearby, glaring at Harry while aggressively attacking the fried herring on his plate with a fork.
"Hey, Harry—"
An excited Ron squeezed over from the crowd nearby. The two had crossed paths during the "celebration" and clearly, he hugged Harry by the shoulder, curiously stroking the flame atop the boy's head—he already knew it was harmless.
"Ron, it's so good you're okay... It's been ages; I woke up at the hospital and didn't see you, and—" Harry shared the enthusiasm.
"Snap—"
Not far away, the flash of a camera went off again, as Colin Creevey, with his new camera, took another picture of the gathered three.