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incantation that sounded almost like song. The flow of blood seemed to ease; Snape wiped the residue from Malfoy's face and repeated his spell. Now the wounds seemed to be knitting.
Harry was still watching, horrified by what he had done, barely aware that he too was soaked in blood and water. Moaning Myrtle was still sobbing and wailing overhead.
When Snape had performed his countercurse for the third time, he half-lifted Malfoy into a standing position.
"You need the hospital wing. There may be a certain amount of scarring, but if you take dittany immediately we might avoid even that.. . . Come...." He supported Malfoy across the bathroom, turning at the door to say in a voice of cold fury, "And you, Potter . . . You wait here for me." It did not occur to Harry for a second to disobey. He stood up slowly, shaking, and looked down at the wet floor. There were bloodstains floating like crimson flowers across its surface. He could not even find it in himself to tell Moaning Myrtle to be quiet, as she continued to wail and sob with increasingly evident enjoyment.
Snape returned ten minutes later. He stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.
"Go," he said to Myrtle, and she swooped back into her toilet at once, leaving a ringing silence behind her.
"I didn't mean it to happen," said Harry at once. His voice echoed in the cold, watery space. "I didn't know what that spell did." But Snape ignored this. "Apparently I underestimated you, Potter," he said quietly.
"Who would have thought you knew such Dark Magic. Who taught you that spell." "I — read about it somewhere." "Where." "It was — a library book," Harry invented wildly. "I can't remember what it was call —" "Liar," said Snape. Harry's throat went dry. He knew what Snape was going to do and he had never been able to prevent it. ...
The bathroom seemed to shimmer before his eyes; he struggled to block out all thought, but try as he might, the Half-Blood Prince's copy of Advanced Potion-Making swam hazily to the forefront of his mind.
And then he was staring at Snape again, in the midst of this wrecked, soaked bathroom.
He stared into Snape's black eyes, hoping against hope that Snape had not seen what he feared, but —
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