Harry went flying every night for the rest of the week. On Friday, after the student’s Quidditch game and making sure nobody was around, he sored up into the air without even hesitating this time. It was fortunately warmer than most nights and he was very grateful for that as he had had enough of being frozen to the bone after flying. While doing a rather complicated swirl, his head started spinning. He hovered a bit, clutching onto the broom until the dizziness went away and he continued flying. He flew for an other couple of minutes when he got a searing pain in his back. He tried to ignore it and land safely on the ground but he couldn’t, his eyesight was getting worse by the second. Soon, the colors were changing, he would see the world around him normally, and it would suddenly turn red or blue or purple or pink. He was swirling uncontrollably and was starting to panic; he knew this was going to happen some day. Why hadn’t he listened to the small voice in the back of his mind? Time seemed to slow, he couldn’t breathe, his heart was beating so fast, Harry thought he was having a panic attack, which he probably was although he didn’t know for sure because he had never had one before. Something was forcing it’s self out of his back. He just thought he had gained a bit of control over his broom when he slipped and fell. He didn’t black out, he didn’t even scream. He didn’t make a sound when he hit the floor and felt bones breaking. He just breathed in raspy breaths and prayed somebody would come to find him. Something soft had cushioned his fall a bit but he couldn’t ell what is was. And why was his vision going haywire? He lay flat on his back, or what he thought was his back, eyes opened and tearing up. He was in such pain. He tried to move. That was a big mistake. He let out a small groan. What was he going to do? He couldn’t stay out here all night, but he couldn’t move either. His wand lay a couple of feet away from him. He reached for it, cast a Patronus and sent it to get Draco and the Headmistress. While waiting for them, he looked around for his Firebolt. Thankfully it lay a few feet away, unharmed. Some time later, Harry didn’t know if it was a few seconds or hours later, Draco came running down the pitch, the Professor, trailing behind him.
“Harry! Harry!” Draco stopped short. “You have – you – you have wings.” He looked at them in amazement and kneeled down beside him, gently touching his arm. McGonagall arrived and let out a little squeek.
“Mr Potter-” She said, her voice trembling, “This might hurt. I am going to hover you to the Hospital Wing.” She waved her wand and Harry groaned in pain. Draco took his hand and held it all the way back up to the castle, through the hallways to the Hospital Wing and still held it when Harry was deposited on the bad and being checked over by Madam Pomfrey.
“My, my, Mr Potter. You always seem to find yourself back here don’t you?”
She didn’t even asked questions about the wings. Harry supposed McGonagall had warned her he would probably turning up sooner or later. The witch only left his side to go back to bed when he had swallowed half a dozen potions. After making sure Harry was fine, more or less, McGonagall did the same. Draco stayed by his side all night, even though he was told to go back to bed but he didn’t. He stayed by Harry’s side and held his hand all night.