When recounting his visit to McGonagall's office, Harry neglected to tell Ron and Hermione about Malfoy. Focusing on his captaincy of the Quidditch team, he told them about the new broom he was promised.
"That's amazing Harry," Ron smiled. "It'll be good to get back on the pitch."
"Only if you'll come and be my keeper," Harry nodded at him, lifting a bread roll in a mock toast.
"I thought you'd never ask," Ron laughed, grabbing a bread roll to meet his.
Harry did, in fact, split the roll, buttering it and spreading some jam on it. He ate it all, taking McGonagall's words to heart. He felt very full after consuming it, considering his stomach was not used to the calories. He saw, out of the corner of his eye, Hermione watching him with a smile on her face. He felt happy too.
+ + +
Malfoy was still absent the next morning too. Harry went down to breakfast with Ron, discussing who they wanted on the Quidditch team that year without thinking about the absent blonde too much.
He sipped a goblet of pumpkin juice and ate a slice of buttered toast while the post came swooping in. Unexpectedly, a large package was dropped in front of Harry as the breakfast was cleared. From the shape of the object, he already knew what it was. He and Ron shared a look of excitement before rushing back to the Eighth year dorm with it leaving Hermione with Ginny.
The two tumbled into the common room and began tearing at the brown paper before they had even set down. Harry and Ron stared in awe of the beautiful Firebolt that now lay in their arms.
"Wicked," Ron whispered. Though he held a beautiful broom in his hands, Harry could not help the pang of guilty sorrow he had for his old faithful broomstick. He knew it was selfish to resent the expensive item in his hands. "Let's go down to the Quidditch pitch this afternoon."
Harry nodded. They stowed away the broom under Harry's bed and head back down to the Great Hall just as the students began to disperse for first class.
Herbology passed uneventfully, though Professor Sprout promised them that next lesson they would be studying six-foot tall carnivorous daisies which amused both Harry and Ron.
Double transfiguration moved similarly as the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students listened to Professor Laxtings list every possible spell that may appear on their N.E.W.T exam.
During lunch, Ron talked animatedly to Hermione about Harry's new broom while Harry pretended to look over his notes from that morning. His stomach growled in protest but he ignored it.
On their way to the dungeons, the two spotted Madame Hooch, the Quidditch coach and new Head of Gryffindor house. The told her the news of Harry's new broom and continuation of captaincy. She, of course, was ecstatic and couldn't wait for tryouts. She tossed Ron the key to the Quidditch shed as they were about to head into the depths of the castle so they could toss a quaffle while breaking in the new broom.
Harry stared at the clock on the stone wall all through double potions waiting anxiously for the bell to ring, signalling the end of the day. Thankfully, Professor Slughorn had them writing out the theory behind Polyjuice potions instead of actually making them which would have just embarrassed Harry further after last lesson's mishap.
The bell signalling the end of the school day resonates through the school and Harry and Ron waste no time in throwing their quills and parchment into their bags and racing back to the Eighth year dorms to change.
+ + +
Harry had missed this. The chilly Scottish air hitting his face as he walked through the grounds of Hogwarts, a broom tucked under his arm and Ron Weasley by his side. A small smile reached his lips and he inhaled deeply.
In the distance, he could see a thin stream of smoke billowing out of the chimney of the small hut belonging to the Groundskeeper Hagrid, he must remind himself to go and visit him soon. The surface of the black lake was still, reflecting the sky and the clouds above perfectly. The Whomping Willow stood proudly, nothing giving away the fact that it was sentient. Harry decided at that moment that maybe coming back to Hogwarts wasn't such a bad idea after all.
It took no time at all for the two of them to reach the pitch, newly repaired and even improved after the war. They found a basket of spare quaffles toward the back of the wooden storage shed and took one out into the field.
Harry felt the familiar rush of adrenaline racing through his body as he prepared to kick off the ground and into the air. His grip tightened around the handle and with the Quaffle tucked under his arm he kicked hard into the ground and sent himself upwards at amazing speed.
He laughed as the force of the wind around him flattened his unruly hair to his skull and stung his cheeks. He looped around himself and made himself level with the goal posts where Ron was already waiting for him.
Harry lost track of time as he and Ron through the Quaffle, taking it in turns to defend the goal posts. Ron felt very proud of himself never letting a single one of Harry's shots get anywhere close to the three hoops. Harry was definitely not the greatest Keeper either, laughing along with Ron when most of his attempts to block his best friend's attacks failed. They both heartily joked that Harry should definitely stick to his position of Seeker lest Gryffindor suffer the greatest defeat in history.
It was Harry's turn to play Chaser again. Ron threw the Quaffle toward him but without the familiar charm placed upon it, the ball acted like any regular muggle ball, refusing to defy gravity. Harry shot after it, angled toward the ground at terrific speed. He tried to shake off the dizziness attempting to take him as he focused on the ball. The ground was getting closer now, Harry stretched out his arm to catch the ball. Harry couldn't hear Ron's shouts to pull up, he couldn't keep his eye's open and he felt like he was going to vomit.
The Boy who Lived crashed into the ground unceremoniously and when he didn't move Ron rushed to the ground after him.
Thankfully, when Ron shook his best friend's shoulder, the dark-haired boy groaned and Ron let out a sigh of relief.
+ + +
Harry opened his eyes and stared up at the uncomfortably familiar ceiling of the Hospital wing. He looked around his bed to see Ron talking to Hermione by his bedside.
"How long have I been here?" Harry groaned in discomfort. The two faces of his best friends lit up as they hear his voice.
"Nearly half an hour, you had a wicked crash," Ron laughed, Hermione hit him in the arm.
"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked, Harry could hear the concerned tone of her voice.
"Sore," he answered. "I've had worse falls. How's my broom?"
Ron and Hermione both laughed at his nonchalant attitude and his concern about his broom rather than himself. "Hardly a scratch," Ron assured him.
Both Ron and Hermione looked up past Harry's bed and he followed their eyeline to see Madame Pomfrey walking toward them.
"He needs to rest now, shoo," she flicked her wrists at his friends who give him one last encouraging look before they made their way out of the room.
"I'm fine, really," Harry tried to sit up but with a flick of the nurse's wand, he is forced back down.
"A broken Radius and a dislocated shoulder. Fixed in a jiffy. But what I'm more concerned about is how you fell, Mr Potter," the nurse eyes him over a clipboard. Harry opened his mouth to reply but she gestured with her hand to silently tell him not to. "Fatigue, dizziness, loss of body mass. I've been a nurse long enough to know the symptoms of under-eating." She said accusingly.
"I'm fine, I've just lost my regular appetite," Harry defended himself.
"A boy of your age and your athletic lifestyle should not weigh this little. I've asked your friends too. They've noticed that you've been eating hardly enough or even skipping meals altogether."
Harry didn't make any effort to reply this time, simply staring at the high ceiling in defeat.
"I have sent a message to McGonagall with my recommendation of regular checkups regarding your eating habits and whatever else you may want to discuss," she looked at him sadly. "You must realise that mental health is a serious issue-"
"I'm fine," Harry cuts her off in a calm voice. He wasn't crazy. He knew that if nothing else. Madame Pomfrey didn't attempt to press the issue any further. Harry watched her as she made her way to the bad to his left, curtains drawn around it so visitors, and Harry, could not pry at the student inside.
"How are you feeling?" Madame Pomfrey asked the student in a comforting voice, Harry felt a little annoyed she had not spoken to him like that.
"I've been better." Harry's eyes widened. The familiar voice belonged to Draco Malfoy, whom he had forgotten was supposed to be resting in the ward for the past couple of days.
"What those students did to you, simply a disgrace to Hogwart's name," the nurse said quietly, but not quiet enough. Harry's mind started to race. He began seriously doubting McGonagall's diagnosis of a meagre 'cold'.
Harry strained his ears to hear Malfoy's reply but none came, the Slytherin boy simply grunted in pain every so often as Madame Pomfrey was administrating whatever treatment she seemed to be applying.
Harry closed his eyes as he tried to think of why McGonagall had lied to him about the reason for Malfoy's disappearance. Harry found himself losing consciousness after a while and let himself fall into the blissful state of sleep.