Harry awoke to the sound of two people speaking to each other from opposite sides of his bed.

"Four hours. The spell should be wearing off soon."

That was Snape's voice. Harry tried to open his eyes but his eyelids seemed glued shut. When he tried to say something, he found that his mouth didn't work either.

"The treatment was successful, then? The potion got rid of the residual dark magic?"

Remus. Harry remembered Snape telling Bill that Remus would be coming to sit with him. But that was when Snape had thought the potion would take all day to work. What time was it, anyway?

"…significant pain. However, the ward healer assigned to Mr. Potter completed a thorough scan just before you arrived. The residual dark magic is gone from his arm and hand and the nerve regenerative therapy will be done first thing tomorrow. Providing all goes well, he will be discharged by Monday."

"Severus, go get some sleep. I'll stay until you get back. You look—well, you've looked better, shall we say?"

Neither spoke for a few moments, then Snape said, "Fine—I need to speak to Albus anyway and make an appearance at Hogwarts. Potter will need a meal when he wakes. Molly left instructions to floo call her and she'll bring something over."

"Severus, Molly said something odd happened at the end—when the potion tried to eradicate the curse damage from the Killing Curse. She said it was something between Harry and Albus…"

Another moment of silence followed before Snape answered.

"Not between Albus and Harry, Lupin. But this is what I am going to speak to Albus about. He was less than forthright with me before he left, but as I see it, Harry was … was channeling the Dark Lord. And Albus knew—he knew it might happen. He was in there right away—locking eyes with Harry during the whole thing…"

"Like last year, then? With the snake at the Ministry when Arthur was attacked?" Remus' voice was edged with worry.

"Yes…perhaps. That's what I'd like to believe, anyway." But Harry thought Snape did not sound convinced. Last year, Harry had been the snake, had seen the corridor from the snake's perspective, and Voldemort had seen what the snake had seen…

It was fifteen minutes later when Harry finally was able to wrench his eyes open. Lupin busied himself getting him something to eat and drink and seemed grateful that Mrs. Weasley had sent enough for two—well, for three or four, actually, but the two were hungry enough to get through almost all of it. Harry felt immensely better. His right arm was back in the sling but the pain was nearly gone. He played several games of left-handed Wizard's Chess with Lupin before two new visitors arrived.

Professor McGonagall walked in carrying a bar of Honeyduke's chocolate and behind her, Luna, wide-eyed, held an over-sized magazine.

"Hello, Harry," said Luna, immediately moving to the empty straight-backed chair and sitting down beside him. She seemed inordinately comfortable in the sterile St. Mungo's environment.

"Hi, Luna," he said, his eyes quickly taking in the straw hat she wore with a wilted daisy chain around it and the curious pickle-shaped earrings. His mouth curved into a genuine smile as she smiled back. "Professor McGonagall said you could use some company your own age. I told her that I'm nearly a year younger than you but she didn't seem too concerned about that. She said you'd been surrounded by old fogies for weeks now."

Harry smirked and glanced at Professor McGonagall, who was standing at the end of the bed with a small pleased smile on her face.

"I've brought you something to read, Harry," said Luna, proffering the magazine. Harry fully expected to be handed a cousin of the Quibbler—perhaps the summer edition of "Nargles, Plimpies and Crumple-Horned Snorkacks"—but instead found him holding a special sports edition of The Daily Prophet on the coming season's Quidditch leagues.

"Wow, thanks!" he said. The beaters from the Holyhead Harpies took up a good portion of the front page. The Harpies were an all-female team and the beaters looked particularly aggressive. Each of them had several bar piercings through their eyebrows and one had what looked like a small bone through her nose.

"We'll leave you two for a few minutes," said Lupin, standing up. He and Professor McGonagall disappeared and Harry enjoyed an hour with Luna, a perfectly non-stressful hour of talking about their summers, the upcoming year and their friends away in Boston. If the conversation was peppered with odd non-sequitors from Luna, all the better.

"I had a dream a couple of weeks ago," Harry said during a lull in the conversation. "You were in it. You were riding a thestral but it turned into a unicorn."

Luna didn't look the least bit surprised. "Really?" she said. "I'm not sure which I prefer, really—unicorns or thestrals. I suppose they're not really all that different…"

/

Harry woke the next morning to find Snape and Healer Gannon in his room already. Professor McGonagall had left the evening before with promises of a trip to Hogsmeade the upcoming week to buy "proper wizarding wear" and Luna had kissed him on the nose before leaving with his Head of House. He'd wiped distractedly at his nose while Lupin grinned. Snape hadn't returned and Harry had fallen asleep during a fourth round of chess with Lupin.

He wanted to ask Snape about Professor Dumbledore—about what had happened yesterday that made him look at Dumbledore with someone else's eyes. He knew whose eyes he'd been looking through, but didn't want to admit it just yet. If Snape knew—if Dumbledore had let on what had happened—he figured he'd be having a conversation with Snape once they were out of here. In his opinion, Healer Gannon already knew enough about him and didn't need to hear that particular conversation.

"Ready for another go?" asked Healer Gannon without preamble, seeing that Harry was awake.

Snape eyed him from behind the healer.

"A trip to the loo first, perhaps, Healer Gannon?" he suggested with a raised eyebrow.

Once Harry had shed his slippers and was settled back in bed, Snape approached him, sitting on the bedside chair Mrs. Weasley and Luna had used the previous day. Harry thought Snape looked moderately better today—that he'd gotten a good night's sleep at least. He was wearing his lightweight black robes open over black trousers and his white button-down. Harry quite preferred him without the robes, he thought. It was easier to keep him in his "Shell Cottage" persona when he was in Muggle attire.

"Healer Gannon will put you to sleep for the first process," he said, "which will be immediately followed by the Nu-Nerve treatment. You'll be awake for that, but given the pain you went through yesterday, I've coerced the healer into giving you something to make you more comfortable. It's not a pain blocker per se, but a potion that alters your state of consciousness. You'll be awake and responsive, but you won't experience the pain in the same way you would without the potion."

Harry nodded. That didn't sound too bad.

"And I still get to leave tomorrow?"

Healer Gannon nodded. "Perhaps even this evening. Once the new nerves are grown, there is no reason to keep you any longer. Now, ready?" He raised his wand as Harry nodded.

When Harry awoke, Snape was still sitting beside him. He tried to sit up and experienced a moment of complete panic when he realized his arm was gone. OK—quick check. Not gone just not there.

"Excellent object lesson," said Snape. "Too bad it took a three-day stay in the hospital to achieve it. Nerves give you feeling. No nerves, no feeling. You arm is still there, Mr. Potter. Now, you will need to drink this so Healer Gannon can administer the Nu-Nerve."

He helped Harry sit then held out a potion which Harry took and swallowed without comment. Immediately, a feeling of intense calm came over him, flowing from his core to his fingers and toes—well, to the fingers he could feel, anyway.

"Wow," he breathed. He wanted to curl his toes. He closed his eyes and began to hum softly, following an internal beat that had to be the rhythm of his heart.

"One more, Harry," said a voice close to his ear. Another vial was pressed to his lips and distractedly, he swallowed it. A jolt, like an electric shock, shot through him and he opened his eyes wide. Toes definitely uncurled now. Small tingling balls seemed to have shot to each of his extremities. They ran quickly up his legs into his groin—now that was odd—through his midsection then fizzled and died. The ball in his left arm did roughly the same—zipped up his arm quickly, down his shoulder and collar bone and faded out somewhere around his heart. Apparently, his head had gotten the same treatment for it seemed another jolt had run around his brain and down his throat, all rather quickly and painlessly.

But…

"Hey…my fingers…" Harry looked up at Snape and Healer Gannon, wide-eyed. "The tips..I can feel them! Pulsing…" He closed his eyes again and began nodding his head, the rhythm of nods following the pulsing in his fingertips.

"Is the conscious sedation potion totally effective now?" asked Snape. His voice seemed edgy, concerned, and Harry did not understand why.

"No," answered Healer Gannon. "It will increase in intensity for another 20 minutes or so, then hold steady for a few hours before beginning to taper off."

Five minutes later, Harry was holding his left hand in front of his face, staring at it raptly. When another healer entered the room moments after that, Harry dropped his hand. A huge smile lit his face.

"Hullo!" he called out. "I'm Harry Fawlty—welcome to my room!"

The healer, the older woman with cat's eye glasses, looked startled and glanced over at Healer Gannon.

"Evigilo Soporis," said the Healer.

"Ahh, so he's one of a thousand?" she replied, looking over at Harry with amusement.

"One of a thousand what?" Snape said.

Harry was looking at Healer Gannon now with his neck bent slightly to the side. "Do you like the Beatles too? And ballroom dancing?"

"One of a thousand what?" repeated Snape, moving to stand between Harry's bed and the two healers.

"Approximately 1/10 of 1 percent of wizards react to the Evigilo Soporis potion in a … shall we say … psychedelic way. The potion of course—like its Muggle counterpart—contains a mild hallucinogenic. In these patients—and apparently in Mr. Potter as well," here he looked significantly at Snape, "the potion blocks the mind's natural filters. In short, patients blurt out what's on their mind. No inner monologue. It can be quite amusing, really."

Harry snorted. "I like my slippers," he offered. "They fit and they've got no holes."

Snape quickly drew out his wand and pointed it at Harry. "Silencio!"

Harry looked around, confused. His lips kept moving but nothing was coming out. "Hey!" he protested soundlessly.

"You really shouldn't spell him like that, you know," said Healer Gannon. "He's under the effects of two very strong potions right now and additional magic…"

"You should have told me!" bellowed Snape. "I could have told you that he reacts strongly to hallucinogenics!" Harry wondered if the throbbing vein on the side of Snape's face would explode. He imagined a spurt of blood like the one that had shot from the Basilisk bite yesterday.

"I apologize," replied the healer, trying to look around Snape at Harry, who was waving one finger around as if conducting their argument. "I simply didn't think…"

"No, you didn't think. You are going to have to leave this room for the rest of this treatment or submit to an Obliviate when it's over. Please go summon the Headmaster and ask him to send Madam Pomfrey over. She can monitor his vitals." His voice had dropped to a menacing whisper.

The two healers scurried away and Snape turned to Harry and muttered "Finite."

"You're acting like Professor Snape," said Harry.

"I am Professor Snape," said Snape.

"You like the Beatles!" exclaimed Harry. His attention then moved from Snape to his right hand. "Hurts…" he complained. "On fire…like when I burned Quirrell."

"Way too early to crash," muttered Snape, returning to the chair next to Harry's bed. "Your hand is fine. It is healing—the feeling is being restored to it. And yes, I like the Beatles. I told you about that …back at Shell Cottage."

"Who's your favorite?" asked Harry. "There were four of them. Dudley had a poster. He used to play their music really loud. Uncle Vernon called them long-haired hippies. But he took Dudley to Liverpool once. I wanted to go but there wasn't room in the car because Dudley had to take his guitar and it filled up the backseat. I stayed with Mrs. Figgy." He giggled. "I called one of her cats Ringo."

"My favorite," said Snape, ignoring the cat comment, "was John. He was killed…the year you were born, in fact. My next favorite is George."

"I like Ringo," said Harry.

"You would," muttered Snape. "Yellow Submarine?" He quirked an eyebrow at Harry.

"Ron didn't know what a submarine was," said Harry. "He thought I was barmy when I told him. Hermione drew a little picture and everything." He started to hum 'Yellow Submarine.' "What's wrong, don't you like it?" he asked Snape, seeing the pained look on his face.

Snape shook his head. "No, not much."

"I know a better one," said Harry, smugly. He considered a moment and began to sing in a surprisingly clear, pleasant voice.

"What would you think if I sang out of tune, would you stand up and walk out on me?" He drifted off into a few bars of humming then belted "I get by with a little help from my friends! I get high with a little help from my friends!"

Snape shook his head. "Truer words were never spoken," he muttered. Harry, however, had something new on his mind.

"Do you think Ginny is cute? I like her freckles. I wonder if she has freckles everywhere?" He looked at Snape and raised both his eyebrows in a fair imitation of the man. Snape smirked.

"Harry, what can you tell me about some boomslang skin that went missing during your second year…"

"Oh, Hermione stole that—and some other ingredients too," Harry answered.

Snape looked gleeful. The look didn't last long, though.

"Did I scare Professor Dumbledore?" he asked suddenly. "You know, when Voldemort was looking out of my eyes?"

"No Harry, you didn't," answered Snape. "I had a long talk with Professor Dumbledore last night." He paused, adding softly. "I think we know what we're dealing with now."

"Good," said Harry. He didn't understand, but he didn't have the focus to pursue any one strand of conversation too long. He looked down at his hand again. "My wrist is feeling all wonky," he said. "Like I hit my funny bone." He creased his eyebrows in thought a moment. "Since you like John so much, why don't you sing me one of his songs?"

Harry watched Snape glance at the curtained entrance to his cubicle.

"Come on, just one. Any one you want!"

Snape sighed. He glanced again at the doorway.

"Fine, Harry. One. Only one."

"Want me to hum the tune?" asked Harry brightly.

"I'm not sure that you know it…this one wasn't done with the Beatles. But do join in if you recognize it."

"OK," said Harry, shifting his position and pulling his legs in. He stared at Snape raptly, inhibitions gone.

"Imagine there's no heaven," Snape sang softly. "It's easy if you try. No hell below us, Above us only sky…"

And that's how Madam Pomfrey found them a few minutes later. Harry was huddled up against the headboard, left arm wrapped around his legs which were pushed up against his chest. Snape was sitting in the chair beside the bed, singing in a low, wistful voice.

"You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one. I hope some day you'll join us, and the world will live as one."