Chapter 22: The Handylimb 5000
Harry lay in bed for a few hours, watching the goings-on in the ward. He was in too much pain to do anything. He asked the Healer to take away his arm – looking at it made him feel sick.
While Harry was eating lunch one-handed off a tray, another Healer, male this time, came in holding a clipboard. He was grey-haired, partially bald and wore round glasses. "Mr. Potter?" he asked politely.
"Yes," replied Harry.
"How are you feeling?"
"Fine. I've got some good news."
Harry sat up. "What is it?" he asked eagerly.
"We got you a new lower arm," replied the Healer. "It's top-quality. Have you heard of the Handylimb range?"
Harry shook his head. "I'm not very interested in medical things."
"Shame," said the Healer, also shaking his head, though obviously for a different reason than Harry's. "They are very interesting. Anyway, Handylimbs have been in production for over fifty years now – Australian-made, I believe – and a new model has been released, just last week, so it happens – the Handylimb 5000. It has full sensitivity, fully realistic movement and will adapt to match your own body, so in time it will become a genuine organ. It also has a few," the Healer paused, "extra features," he said hurriedly. "Of course, you would probably much prefer to have this than any other artificial limb – we could conjure something in a few seconds, but it wouldn't be anything like as good. However, you can only have a Handylimb – or any of the other artificial arms available – if you're prepared to pay. What do you think?"
"How much is it?" inquired Harry.
"Fifty Galleons," answered the Healer. "If you think you can afford it …"
"I can," said Harry. He was going to be fine! This Handylimb seemed a lot better than what Voldemort had given Peter Pettigrew, his 'servant'.
"Good," said the Healer, smiling. "We'll bring it in then. You'll be able to leave in an hour."
He left, and came back five minutes later with a team of five assistants in pale blue robes. Two of them were carrying a large crate together.
"It's your left hand, isn't it?" asked the Healer excitedly. He obviously wanted to see how this new device worked.
"Yes," said Harry. Wincing, he took the stump from underneath the bedclothes and presented it to one of the assistants, who tied it to a wooden board with markings on it.
"Two inches below the elbow," said the assistant to one of his colleagues. The crate was opened, and the Handylimb was taken out. It was a pinkish colour, and started at the shoulder. There was no hair growing on it and neither were there any lines on the palm or wrinkles at the joints. A faint blue light shone from the arm. It didn't look that realistic to Harry.
"Left, two inches below elbow," said one of the assistants who had been carrying the crate. There was a cracking noise, and the upper arm disappeared. It had also flipped over, so as to become a left hand instead of a right.
Another assistant measured Harry's healthy arm with a tape, then told the Handylimb the results. It crackled, becoming larger, until it was the right size for Harry. Then it was taken and placed on the board beside the stump of Harry's arm. There was a loud POP!
Harry felt a curious sensation. The pain had gone and in its place was an odd tingling feeling – as if he was growing. He glanced down at his new arm, and was aware of all the assistants and the Healer looking too. The colour of his own flesh was extending into that of the Handylimb, and short black hairs were sprouting. The blue light had gone, but in its place were thousands of tiny wrinkles and markings – exactly the same as before, down to the last blemish. Nails had sprouted from the ends of the fingers. Harry wriggled his fingers, and smiled. It was like his own hand had come back!
"It gets better," said the Healer, sounding like Harry felt. "Remember those extras I told you about?"
Harry nodded.
"Well, there's plenty of them. For one, this hand will now function as your stronger right hand always has done, so in effect you'll be ambidextrous. But you must keep using it, or it will cease to work as well. Also, you can perform a number of simple 'spells' simply by the power of thought. For example, imagine your hand was glowing."
Harry imagined, and a circle of bright light shone around his fingers. He moved his hand around, casting strange shadows on the walls.
"That isn't all it can do. This hand will adjust its temperature so that it never needs a glove, and it will have optimised grip. Very good for sport! You'll never need a key again, as you can train doors to respond only to your touch. And you can perform household tasks, such as ironing and cooking, by simply running your new limb along the clothes or putting it near food. Read the handbook for more details." He passed Harry a small red book. "Use it well."
Harry nodded, thanked the Healer and his assistants, and climbed out of bed. "Ask the goblins to take the money from my account," he told them.
"Yes, of course," said the Healer. "Come again if you ever need treatment."
"Can I Disapparate in here?" asked Harry.
"Go out into the corridor, please," said the Healer. "Goodbye!"
"Bye!" said Harry, and walked out of the door. He concentrated hard, and then was flying.
He landed outside Professor Confessus' office. He knocked, and went in to find the elderly Auror pouring over notes.
"You're back!" said the Headmaster. "Did you get a new arm? Ah, yes, very nice. Do sit down."
Harry sat. "Do you want to talk to me, sir?" he asked.
"Ah, yes," said Professor Confessus solemnly. "Yes. I'd just like to say that you were very lucky. A few more minutes and that envelope would have been halfway up your neck. You wouldn't have survived."