He abandoned the spell and began to dig through his pockets, his hands shaking uncontrollably. He pulled the first vial free (relieved to find it hadn’t shattered under him when he’d fallen to the floor) and pulled its cork out with his teeth. For a split second he tried to figure out how he would pour the potion down Harry’s throat, when he discarded the notion entirely. Instead, he pried Harry’s mouth open with one hand, and with the other he flicked his wand, drawing the potion from the vial, and directing it with magic past Harry’s lips and down his oesophagus. Harry flushed pink suddenly as the potion took effect, but at the same time, blood poured from his neck with renewed vigour. He expected Harry’s vague eyes to focus, even just for a moment, but they didn’t.  