Madame Pomfrey had been the school nurse at Hogwarts for longer than she cared to remember, and in that time, she had only ever seen two of her charges like this. The first, a Gryffindor, was a frequent visitor to the hospital wing, either for himself or one of his equally hex-prone friends…as well as the other reason for one of them, of course. But she had sworn to Dumbledore never to speak of that, and as a former Hufflepuff Madame Pomfrey stood by her word.
But back to the matter in hand. The pale haired boy in front of her was covered in his own blood; the green lining of his robes stained with it. She drew her wand slowly and steadily over the gashes in his body, sealing them shut. He was unconscious, but the Gryffindor hadn't been. He had been conscious through the whole process, his friends and girlfriend gathered far too close as she sealed his wounds. He must have been in unimaginable pain, but through it all he smiled determinedly, and joked with the Black boy. Their laughter was strained, and he'd have to stop every so often to wince, but he stuck at it; determined to make his friends think he was alright, even while the blood was gushing out of him.
And now this boy had been hit with exactly the same curse. A generation later, and about two years younger. Madame Pomfrey shook her head as she tended to him. Honestly, young wizards and witches could be so violent! And if rumour was true, it was the son of the first victim who had done this. She couldn't believe it, she really couldn't. Oh, James' son she could believe would do this in a fit of passion, but every time she looked at Harry Potter she didn't see James, but the sweet, loving, hot-tempered Lily. Lily would never do anything to harm anyone; she was in training to become a healer when she died, and would be turning over in her grave if she knew her son had done something like this, Madame Pomfrey was sure.
Yes, I am well aware that Snape healed Malfoy, but for the sake of argument let's just say his wounds opened up again, okay?
