The year started as ordinary as any other. Aside from the fact that it was their ‘eighth year’ due to the aftermath of Voldemort’s attack. He didn’t remember getting hit by the curse during the battle, only that one day he fell to the ground, retching and choking on the flowers crawling up his oesophagus, tearing up everything in their wake with their sharp thorns.
It happened in potions. After the battle, Pomfrey had managed to save Snape as he’d made himself an antivenin incase Nagini ever injected him with her poison. All she needed to do was stem his bleeding and heal up the bite marks. Now Harry talked and worked with him often, after viewing his memories and seeing how close the man was with his mother.
He was making a Draught Of Peace to help aid the students and order members in Pomfrey’s care when he felt a sharp pain in his chest. It vanished after a moment, only a sharp prick. That was the beginning. Harry brushed it off at first, thinking it as something from his imagination. The pains returned, barely thirty minutes later, and lasted for a minute or so.
In that minute, Harry collapsed to the floor and began choking as the pain travelled up his throat. His vision blurred and returned when the pain stopped. He found himself lying on the floor with the concerned face of Snape over him, supporting his head. The man above him spoke but he felt like he was underwater, the only sounds he could hear being that of his heart thumping in his chest.
His vision began to blacken in the corners of his eyes before, finally, his eyes drifted shut, as he succumbed to the pain in his chest.