Madam Pomfrey never wanted to be a nurse. In the impulse of her youth she always dreamed of being a page five girl in the midst of the tabloids of the Wizarding Weekly. Such dreams were foolish ones, she knew, and magic came to guide her away from such terrible decisions. But there comes a time in every wizard's life in which they accept that not even the most potent of magical powers can prevent stupidity.
So did Madame Pomfrey think as she attempted to extract a marshmallow that had been lodged deep into Harry Potter's nose. She had tried tongs, tweezers, spoons; the medical ward even had implored Cho Chang to supply them a pair of chopsticks, but to no avail.
The marshmallow, at least for the time being, had to stay. Yet Dumbledore did hear of this inconvenience, and due to his special, if uncomfortably strong interest in Harry, he proceeded to make a swift arrival to the Infirmary.
"Potter! Is the boy alright, Mrs. Pomfrey?"
Pomfrey directed the Headmaster to a series of x-rays at the rear of the ward. Harry's nose was blocked entirely by the lodging of the marshmallow at the nasopharynx.
"It's no use, Albus. I have tried all manner of utensils. I have expended the use of my best healing spells. I have even maced him with pepper spray. Nothing has shown any indication of getting that damned marshmallow out."
"What if I suck it? From his nose?"
Pomfrey grimaced at the suggestion, turning a pale shade of sickly green.
"I mean with a vacuum cleaner, Mrs. Pomfrey."
"Oh."
"There is one in the custodial closet. I fear the encroachment of technology as much as you do, matron. But Potter's life, nay, the fate of the whole wizarding world may be at stake, for we only have so much time before Potter succumbs to the marshmallow!"
Over Harry's unconscious body did Madame Pomfrey sigh deeply, and close her eyes in resentment. "It must be done. Summon the vacuum magicians."
