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Lucien hurried to the hospital wing and spotted a familiar head of light-blond hair pacing just outside the door.
Malfoy.
Lucien figured the Slytherin had come to check on Snape too. The Potions Master had always gotten along well with the Malfoys, father and son.
"Lucien, you're here too," Malfoy greeted first. "Visiting Professor Snape?"
Lucien nodded.
Malfoy opened his mouth, then shut it again. His face twisted into the strangest expression.
He glanced back into the hospital wing, then leaned in close and dropped his voice.
"You might want to… wait a second. I was just about to go in, but…"
He hesitated, clearly choosing his words with extreme care, and finally muttered vaguely:
"Just… don't look at the back of the professor's head when you go in, all right?"
Lucien blinked, confused, but nodded anyway and pushed the door open.
Unlike most students, Lucien didn't visit the hospital wing very often.
He wasn't the type to get elbow-checked in flying lessons or Quidditch matches, or to accidentally touch dangerous magical plants and animals, or to taste-test potions to see if they were done yet…
So the place still felt a little unfamiliar.
Madam Pomfrey wasn't around—probably off brewing something.
Most of the beds stood empty. Only the farthest one was hidden behind a white curtain.
Lucien guessed that was where Snape was.
He stepped closer but didn't yank the curtain open. Instead he spoke softly through the thin fabric.
"Professor, how are you feeling? Can I come in?"
A moment of silence, then the faint rustle of sheets as Snape shifted. His slightly hoarse voice finally answered from behind the curtain.
"Come in."
Lucien pulled the curtain aside.
Snape lay on his side, long black hair spilled across the pillow, his face even paler than usual. His eyes were closed, but at the sound of movement they slowly opened, flicked toward Lucien, then closed again.
Lucien spotted another familiar face.
Dumbledore sat in the chair beside the bed, holding a half-peeled orange like he'd been there for a while.
As headmaster, of course he'd come check on an injured professor—especially one who quietly carried more than his fair share of the workload.
"Lucien, you made it," Dumbledore greeted warmly.
Lucien smiled back. His gaze drifted over the bedside table.
A vase sat there holding a fresh bouquet, petals still dotted with water droplets, clearly just delivered.
As he looked away, something in the smooth glass reflection caught his eye.
Snape's head.
The man was lying on his side, the back of his skull facing the vase.
That thick, jet-black hair he'd always had… was missing a patch.
A bright red circle of bare scalp stood out starkly against the surrounding hair.
Like someone had shaved a perfect bald spot right in the middle.
Was it from the cauldron getting too hot during brewing, or had some solution splashed onto him?
In Britain, where male hairlines were a national tragedy, Snape's full head of hair had always been one of the rare exceptions.
And now it had turned into a sudden Mediterranean patch…
No wonder Malfoy had been stuttering at the door. That was exactly what he'd been trying to warn him about.
Lucien fought to keep his expression completely neutral. He quickly dragged his eyes away from the vase's reflection and pretended he hadn't seen a thing.
His face muscles felt stiff. One wrong twitch and Snape would know.
He hesitated for half a second in his head: Should he offer to heal it? Thanks to the unicorn blessing, his healing magic worked a lot better than most wizards'.
But—considering the old bat's pride, better to act like he hadn't noticed.
Snape had even rolled over on purpose to face the other way, hadn't he?
Besides, Madam Pomfrey's skills were excellent. If she could regrow bones, hair should be no problem…
Right?