Chapter 21: The Armripper

Nothing particularly eventful happened in the next three weeks. Harry enjoyed nearly all of his lessons, especially Physical Training and Sport. He learnt to play games he had not tried before: Battemarie, a game a bit like baseball except that the ball you were meant to hit, the Quickset, zoomed around in a circle and two others, the Dodgeballs, tried to knock you over; Swivenhodge, a wizarding version of tennis played on broomsticks that were flown the wrong way round; and Quodpot, a violent American game where you had to try and score by putting the bright red ball into a small cauldron – the ball was liable to explode, which meant you had to leave the field. All in all it was great fun.

Harry awoke on the last day of October to a chorus of Happy Harry Potter Day to you from Ron and Ve vish you a merry Harry Potter Day from Rudolf.

"What the hell is going on?" he asked.

"It's Harry Potter Day," said Ron, handing Harry a card with a smiling picture of himself. "The day when we celebrate your defeat of Voldemort. Dad declared it an official holiday."

Harry remembered something Professor McGonagall had said in the book Joanne had written, in the very first chapter. It seemed as if one of her predictions had come true. He also remembered something else: "It's Halloween," he said.

"So what?" replied Ron, while Rudolf smiled. "I think Harry Potter Day's much more important. Look at all the cards." He gestured at the pile of cards at the end of Harry's bed. Harry picked them up and began to open and read:

Happy Harry Potter Day, to Harry from Rudolf.

Wishing you a very Happy Harry Potter Day, from Albus Dumbledore (PS – remember to look out for Millstew).

Well Done Harry, love Hermione.

You are the New Crumple-Horned Snorkack, love Luna.

My Hero, love Ginny (PS, the baby's doing fine. Any ideas for a name?).

Good Luck, from Neville.

Happy HP Day, Hagrid.

Have a good day, from Lizzy.

Well-done Harry, from Bill Weasley (PS – I'll try and set you up an Order of Merlin).

Best wishes on your special day, love Kelly.

To the Dark Lord's Defeater, from your vampire friends.

Harry Potter is truly great, from Dobby, Winky and Harry Jr.

To a real joke of a man, from Fred and George Weasley and Remus Lupin.

To Harry Potter, from Gladys Gudgeon.

Harry stopped there. There were a huge number of cards. All of a sudden an owl flew down from nowhere and stopped in front of Harry, and envelope in its beak. Hedwig looked at it, annoyed, Pig looked pleased to have a possible new friend. Harry took the envelope and placed it on the pile, but the owl pecked him angrily. He took the letter and read the address: Harry Potter, Dormitory 6, Andros Auror Training College, Birmingham Road, nr. Lichfield, Staffordshire, in a handwriting he didn't recognise. It was definitely his. He put it back on the pile, but the owl pecked him again. It really wanted him to read the letter, so Harry opened it and put his hand inside, and the owl flew off through the door.

Harry's hand was in agony. It was as if nails had been driven into it, or as if some huge dog was chewing it. He grabbed the envelope with his other hand and tried to remove it, but it wouldn't budge.

Ron and Rudolf looked at him, shocked. "Oh, no," said Rudolf. "Dey sent you an Armripper. Get it off – quickly."

"I can't!" said Harry. "It –," he pulled again, "won't – come – off. Get someone."

Ron ran off into the corridor and Rudolf pulled out his wand. "I'll do someting," he said. "Eximus." There was a horrible ripping noise and the envelope continued up Harry's arm. He screamed with the pain. Rudolf looked extremely worried.

Ron came running in with Professor Confessus, who tried the same charm as Rudolf to exactly the same effect. "It won't come off," he told them, like a doctor telling his patient that he has a serious illness. "He must go to St. Mungo's. Quickly – can you Apparate with it on?" he asked Harry.

"I – think – so – AARGH," he replied. "Ye – es."

"Let's go then," said Professor Confessus urgently. "3 – 2 – 1 …"

St. Mungo's, St. Mungo's, thought Harry, trying to block out the pain. He felt himself flying then – BUMP.

"I don't know where we need to go," Professor Confessus told Harry as they stood in the hospital. "It could be Artefact Accidents, Spell Damage or even Animal-Induced Injuries. You stay there while I find out."

Harry nodded, then felt to the floor. The last thing he knew was immeasurable pain in his left arm, then, once more, everything went black.

Harry awoke to find himself lying in a neatly made hospital bed. He reached out for his glasses – and stopped. The pain in his arm had lessened, but it was still too bad for him to be able to cope with him moving it.

"Are you awake, Mr. Potter?" said a kindly female voice. "Would you like your glasses?"

"Yes, please," Harry replied, and a blurred green shape put them onto his face. He saw that the woman was a Healer. He looked around. On the bedside cabinet lay a mauled, bleeding mass of flesh next to a shredded envelope – Harry's hand and the Armripper. "What happened?" he asked weakly.

"The Armripper took your lower arm off before we could do anything," said the Healer sadly. "We're trying to make you a artificial replacement. There was a message inside the envelope. I don't know if you'd understand it. The Ministry will want to know about this, of course." She passed him a small shred of paper, and Harry read:

You'll never stop me now. TM.

"Thomas Millstew," he muttered. "Lord Amarenox. Of course."

"Pardon, Mr. Potter?" replied the Healer.

"Oh, nothing, nothing," said Harry. His life was in danger, and he knew it.