The man fell to his knees in front of him, clutching his hands, wrists, and arms, as if he couldn't quite believe he was solid, all while chanting his name over and over again. "Oh Merlin, Harry…" His view was obscured by a tall man with dark hair. Everything was blurry without his glasses. "Hmm…" he responded, turning his head slightly in the direction of the raspy voice but not taking his eyes off that window.
He kept his gaze trained on the window as she brought the visitors around the bed. Potter, you've visitors," she went on in the same gentle voice, as if speaking to a frightened animal. The view was nothing special - just the side of a Muggle shopping center - but he thought the clouds might clear soon and he didn't want to miss his first glimpse of sunshine in fourteen years. Potter?" The Healer from earlier was here again, but he didn't turn away from the window. It seemed as if, since the dawn of time itself, he'd only ever heard two voices: his own screams, insults, and pleas, matched against his captor's wheedling attempts to break him. It was strange to eavesdrop on people again. Feral came out and then there were some shushing sounds before the Healers left the large private ward entirely. Mungo's wing drifted over and he caught a few words.
Behind him, voices from the other end of the St. He was sporting jeans and a t-shirt with a picture of a tiger's face. Harry perched on the edge of the hospital bed, swinging his legs back and forth.
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