Dedication
A few days have passed with Harry bringing the stranger some berries and water, but every new day Harry could see stranger getting worse and worse. On the third day the stranger did not wake up, not mattering how much Harry called for him. He could see the harsh, painful breaths and occasional whines coming from the stranger but he wouldn’t wake up to eat or drink.
Harry was now afraid. The only person he encountered in this place was probably in really bad shape, now he was all alone and did not know what to do to make it better.
He gathered all his courage and decided the come closer to inspect he wound. Realising he could not really see it because of the… is this leather armour? Seems so. Huh. He decided to unfasten it all.
The stranger reeked of sweat, shit and animal skin but Harry braved forward. He wasn’t sorted in Gryffindor for nothing.
With all the gear on the stranger’s torso off he now could see the infected wound. It was a nasty thing but first things first, he had to wash that wound and, well, maybe part of the stranger too, just in case, you know.
He remembered seeing some Dittany down the river and ran to grab some before nightfall. If there is something that would help with the infection it was probably Dittany. He was glad now that this was one of the first plants they learned in Herbology.
After grabbing a handful of the herb Harry put himself to work. He washed the stranger’s gear and put it on some low branches to dry. He cleaned the wound, as he did not have anything to mash the leaves with he chewed them and coated the affected area, then shredded part of his own cloak to dress it. He made the stranger drink some water also.
Now it was a matter of time. He had to wait for the stranger to get better.
The next day the stranger still did not wake up.
Or the day after that.
Harry was starting to get desperate. Desperate enough to try to use magic like he did sometimes when he was young and uncle Vernon went a little too far with his punishments. It’s been a while since he last done something like that, and normally he felt pretty drained afterwards, but it was worth a try if that would keep the only other person that he knew here alive.
So he walked closer to the stranger once again, kneeling by his side and placing his hand over the wound. He bit his lip and concentrated really, really hard on making the other better.
Nothing happened.
He tried again.
Nothing.
Now a little more desperate Harry closed his eyes, raised his hands again, touched the dressed wound and focused all his will on making the wound better, wishing all the nastiness away, for the creature to be better.
When he opened his eyes again he saw that his hands were glowing. A glow that was slowly fading. Before he could think anything more of how it worked, blackness consumed him.