Some time later, Severus sits bolt upright with what, he's sure insomuch as he has a state of consciousness to be sure with, is the worst head and neck-ache in the history of absolutely ever. However, neither this nor even being in almost completely unfamiliar surroundings (almost, because they remind him of school in some vague, alarming way) is what's important. The main thing is to find a receptacle. Any receptacle. Fast.
A few undignified moments later, he's staring down into the bowl he found, slightly more awake and, if anything, queasier.
It holds a... a... a thing. A restless, roiling, shadowy, spiderwebbish mass, with something coiling through it, lazily serpentine, sealed up in a translucent ...bubble? Cocoon? It seems to be implacably contained, at any rate, which is reassuring, as it seems to be, although not the worst thing he's ever seen, unsettlingly representative of all the rest.
Even while feeling an irrational inclination to trust the cocoon-bubble-thing, he still looks up for something to seal over the top of the bowl.