Harry James Potter (swordofgryffin) wrote in conversatempore, @ 2013-06-13 14:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | ginny weasley, harry potter, hermione j. granger, ron b. weasley |
E-s-c-a-p-e
Who: Trio + Ginny (bet she loves that)
Where: That same hospital
Content: Should be SFW unless the Weasleys start using inappropriate language
It had taken Harry a day or so to clear his head of what felt like a mush of pain and cotton wool. Another day or so to realise no one was looking for him, or at least, had no way of finding him if they were, and about a week after that to figure out a plan. Every time he tried to do as much as walk outside the ward, he was either caught by the over-vigilant nurses and rushed back to bed, or forced to go back himself when the pain in his knee became too much to bear. The doctor seemed to think it wasn't broken, but it was just as hard to put weight on it as it had been when the spider had speared it.
The other problem was, even if he could find his way out of the hospital, he had no idea what he was going to do next. For one thing, he had no money, and no clothes. His robes were in a box somewhere, along with his wand (he really, really hoped. There was every possibility it might have been tossed aside as nothing more than an old stick) and everything else that had been on him when he'd apparently been blasted back in time, including his journal, shrunk, and his invisibility cloak which he rarely went anywhere without. With that he'd be able to find a safe place to Apparate, at least, if he didn't Splinch himself, though at this point he'd be almost pleased to leave his broken arm behind. The useless limb continued to be painful even while splinted and bandaged - all the doctor could do - and he thought they might have discharged him if it wasn't for his leg, which baffled Doctor Turner and the other man who occasionally came around and poked at it as if this would provide any more answers. It did not seem to be broken, but hurt like all hell and made his head swim when touched or when he tried to walk on it. He could limp, badly, but he would never get far in that state, not alone.
Eventually, however, he saw an opportunity. He was lying awake in the early evening, unable to sleep while his arm throbbed and the man down the end of the row snored outrageously. Lt. Daniels, the man with the missing legs, was also asleep, lying on top of the sheets with his face half-buried in his pillow and half covered by dark hair.
Wincing, Harry pushed back the sheets, and very gingerly got up onto his good leg. There was a stick he was meant to use for exercise, and he leant on it heavily while he made the bed back up again. That might buy him at least a little time.
There was a cupboard at the end of the ward, and it was always locked. Something told him his stuff must be in there somewhere. He limped over to it, wincing whenever someone coughed or moaned in their sleep, until he could put his hand on the handle. He wasn't nearly as accomplished as Dumbledore at wandless magic, but he had managed to summon his own wand a few times, and that had to be worth something, right?
It took a long, long time. It felt like hours. He was sure every creak of the building was someone creeping up behind him to wrestle him back into that damned uncomfortable bed.
"Alohamora," he whispered desperately, over and over. "C'mon, c'mon... how many times have I done this stupid spell..."
Finally, blessedly, with a sound that he was sure would wake the entire room, the latch clicked. Weak with relief and from the effort of balancing on his good leg, he pushed it open and limped inside. It creaked, and closed behind him with a noise that seemed capable of waking the dead. When he turned back, his heart sank. The shelves were full to brimming with boxes.