He was lying on one of the beds at the back of the Hospital Wing, his back propped up against the fluffy pillows, dressed in neat white pyjamas, and covered with a sheet up to his waist. His arms were folded tightly across his chest, and his green eyes were shifting nervously behind his round-rimmed glasses, scanning the room before him without really seeing it. He was deep in thought. In fact, he hadn’t uttered a word for quite some time now, and Hermione respected that.