Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own its characters and its universe. Those belong to J.K. Rowling. I'm just here to alter and mold them however I see fit.
Warning: This will be a slash, meaning this will contain a male-male relationship. Those uncomfortable with this idea will be better off not reading further.
He crouched in the rolling fog, his breathing heavy as his eyes scoured his surroundings, intently searching. Dark hair hung in his face, tickling his nose, but it would be detrimental if he were to scratch it now; his wand hand hung mangled and useless at his side, his left awkwardly clutching his holly wand. Scurrying sounded behind him; he wheeled around and narrowed his eyes into slits, vainly trying to peer through the thick fog.
"Come, Potter!" A raspy voice called through the mist. "Come and retrieve what you seek! Or are you too much of a coward without reinforcements here to protect you?"
"I'm no more of a coward than you are, Greyback!" Harry shouted as his wand slipped toward the ground in his sweaty grip. "Why don't you stop hiding in this fog and finish me off!"
A growl reverberated through the vapor, echoing and making it impossible to discern where it had come from, and a red jet fired at Harry's front, forcing him to dive to avoid the blast. "Expelliarmus!" he shouted from the ground, blindly aiming upward at where he guessed Fenrir Greyback to be. A yelp sounded and a wand landed inches from his left ear. Struggling to his feet and cursing his right hand as he cradled it to his body, he stood protectively over his newly acquired wand, not wanting to risk picking it up. If only I had listened to Hermionie, Harry thought. Things wouldn't have gotten this far out of hand and Greyback would have been subdued a long time ago.
A large figure leapt at Harry, seemingly out of nowhere. He fumbled with his wand, casting a shield charm just in time, only able to see a glimpse of yellowed teeth set in a hairy, gray face before Greyback bounded into the invisible barrier and was thrown aside, once again obscured from view. Harry chased toward the location, wand poised, but was suddenly tackled from the right and thrown to the hard concrete once more.
Searing pain shot down Harry's arm and through his skull as his vision swam, momentarily paralyzing him. Sluggishly regaining his senses as he struggled against the vicious weight atop of him, he was able to position his body so that his legs were beneath the werewolf. It wasn't until he kicked the putrid body off of him that he realized, with a jolt, the reason for the pain in his arm; the werewolf had, snarling, bitten into his already damaged wand arm, tearing into the muscle and ripping off a portion as he was thrown from Harry's body.
Flying upright nearly as fast as Greyback flew through the air, Harry cast a stunning spell and conjured ropes, snaking themselves tightly around the motionless body once the werewolf landed. Conjuring a piece of bark, he set it beside Greyback and set it aflame, searched for the other's wand, and returned, apparating the two of them to the Ministry of Magic and leaving a large trail of blood in his wake.
"I'm getting rid of my glasses," Harry said forcefully. Ron raised scarlet eyebrows over his pumpkin juice.
"Why the sudden cave-in, mate? Hermione's been trying to force you to get rid of them for months."
"Because they landed me here," Harry spit, thrusting his left arm around the room. The walls were white and spotless and light, white curtains framed barred windows. The sun filtered into the room, blindingly glaring off the walls, floor, and everything else occupying the space.
He shifted himself higher up the bed, his back propped up and his head sagging against pristine, white pillows. "And Oliana," he continued, trailing off, "She was a brilliant Auror, Ron, and wouldn't have been killed if I had been able to see."
"That's rubbish, Harry, and you know it!" a female's voice reprimanded. Hermione walked through the doorway, holding a tray of food and the day's edition of the Daily Prophet. Seeing Harry was about to retort, she continued."Being an Auror is a dangerous job and even the most skilled members can be caught unawares."
"But if I had been able to see—"
"You yourself said the fog was nearly impenetrable, Harry, and I'm sure it would have been the same way whether your glasses were fogged up or not. She certainly couldn't see, either, and her eyesight was flawless!"
"Yeah, but—"
"No, Ron! You know full well this is for Harry! You've already eaten up last night's dinner. Don't eat up his breakfast, too." Hermione scolded, slapping Ron's hand away from the tray she had just set on Harry's lap.
"Just be glad you've finally caught Greyback, Harry. That monster's done enough damage for a couple lifetimes," Ron added solemnly, looking back toward his friend confined to the bed.
All three bowed their heads silently, thinking of Lupin and wishing he were alive to see the monster that ruined his life finally put to justice.
"So, what's the verdict?" Harry inquired to Hermione, breaking the silence and shakily raising a spoonful of steaming porridge to his mouth. She sat in a chair beside Ron's, her eyes scanning the Prophet for information on Greyback's trial.
"I'm sorry, but it seems your curiosity will have to linger, Mr. Potter," a clipped voice sounded from the left. In the doorway stood a blond woman with Mediwitch robes, going over the clipboard found on Harry's door. "You're not supposed to exert yourself, and I'm afraid learning the results of werewolf trials fall under that category."
"Whab?" Harry replied incredulously, his tongue scalded from the oatmeal.
"Yes, Mr. Potter. Here at St. Mungo's, we pride ourselves in our ability to help our patients heal quickly and completely, and it's difficult to do that when our patients are constantly in an overexcited state." She looked accusingly towards Hermione and Ron. The latter replied with bits of stolen toast filling his mouth, "I don' 'ee the probwum wit' us visiting our friend," he finished, swallowing. Hermione remained behind the Daily Prophet, obscured from view.
"The problem," she replied scathingly, scribbling with her quill, "is that it's nearly impossible to regrow muscle when the patient won't lie down," she punctuated with a glare toward Harry, "let alone tendon. Your hand was severely injured with a curse, Mr. Potter, and trying to heal Dark Magic is extremely difficult. Quite honestly, I believe you'll be required to participate in physical therapy—yes, sometimes wizards require this, too—just to regain half your previous mobility." She dangled the clipboard by her side, staring at Harry now that she was done filing the day's report. "I'd be happy he wasn't in a transformed state when he bit you. There's worse things than a bit of scarring and minute loss of muscle movement."
With a huff, she turned back around and dropped the clipboard back into its holder, back rigid and slamming the door on her way out. With a rustle, Hermione revealed herself from behind the Prophet and smushed it into her lap. "There's worse things than being an insensitive, unlikeable bitch," she spit heatedly, scowling at the door.
"Well said," Ron replied before popping three strawberries into his mouth.
A/N: Yeah, well, I got bored of Inuyasha and things aren't turning out the way I want them to, so here's this. Don't worry..Draco appears in the next chapter.