Disclaimer: I don't own the name Harry Potter or the characters. Need I say more?
Harry Potter and the Potion of Devil's Tears
Harry awoke again, still in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey was standing over him again with her wand pointed at him. Harry's train of thought picked up right where it left off.
"What procedure?" Harry demanded again, glaring at Madam Pomfrey.
"It has already been performed, Mr. Potter," she said, a slight hitch of compassion in her voice. Harry looked down at his arm.
It was gone.
"BLOODY HELL!" Harry cried, looking at the stump of what used to be his left arm. "What have you done?!"
"Mr. Potter…" Madam Pomfrey tried to say.
"What the hell were you thinking? Dumbledore could have found a solution, hell, even a git like Snape could have done better! How do…"
"Silencio!"
Harry's mouth continued to work, but no sound came out. He glared at Madam Pomfrey, who glowered right back. She hovered over the foot of his bed menacingly.
"All right, Mr. Potter. First of all, you do not speak ill of the staff, so five points from Gryffindor."
Harry attempted an outcry of protest, but without success.
"Second, you will not run your mouth like that in this hospital wing. Understood?"
Harry grimaced and nodded.
"Third, Professor Dumbledore is the one who approved the amputation of your arm, and I'll tell you why. The potion you created could not be stopped. Unlike Muggle acids, which diminish as they react with something, your 'elixir' multiplied as it reacted. It would have dissolved your entire body. It could not be removed from your body using a cleaning spell; the reactants in the potion were too well embedded in your tissue. The only way to save your life was to amputate the arm."
Harry stared at her in disbelief. He looked down at the stump of his arm, which ended just above where his elbow had been. A lone tear leaked out of his eye and trailed down his face.
"Finite Incantatem." Madam Pomfrey pointed her wand at Harry and lifted the silencing charm.
"Where is it?" Harry mumbled.
"Where is what, Mr. Potter?" Madam Pomfrey asked with a bite of steel in her voice.
"My arm," he choked, still staring at the stump.
Madam Pomfrey's face softened a little, and she cleared her throat. "The majority of it has been disposed of. Professor Snape requested that I retain a small amount of the potion for his study."
Harry jerked his head to look at her, anger flashing in his eyes. "For his study?"
Madam Pomfrey nodded. "He wants to see if he can come up with something to counteract it…"
At that moment, the infirmary door opened and Professor Snape strode in, his robes whipping around him.
"Awake, I see," he said in a neutral voice. "Pardon my interruption, but I have come to collect the potion."
Madam Pomfrey gestured at her office. "It's encased in a Aerial Prison Charm, and it's on my desk."
Snape walked the length of the hospital wing and entered Madam Pomfrey's office. Harry could hear him utter a charm, and then he emerged, levitating what looked like a cyan-colored sphere the size of a large marble.
"That's what it looks like?" Harry asked, staring at the seemingly harmless potion. He had recovered from his bout of rage, realizing that Professor Snape didn't want the same accident to happen twice.
"By itself, yes. That is it's natural color. It is enclosed in a charm that forces all of it together into the smallest amount of space possible, and keeps it airborne, so it does not touch anything," Madam Pomfrey said, watching the sphere closely.
"You'll be interested to know, Potter, that you have invented a potion the potency of which is unheard of in the history of this planet, Muggle or wizarding," Snape said with a wry twist to his mouth.
"Yeah, and I get to benefit from it," Harry said, glancing again at the stump of his arm.
"Tell me, Potter, when you read on the Famous Witches and Wizard Cards about those who discovered something, did they usually come out unscathed?" Snape asked, the twist to his lip becoming more pronounced.
Harry thought about the witch who discovered gillyweed and nearly suffocated, and a wizard who had eaten Venomous Tentacula and had permanently turned purple…
"No, sir," Harry admitted.
"Well, although I wouldn't get my hopes up on gaining yourself a Famous Witches and Wizards card, I do recommend that you come up with a name for this concoction," Snape said, gesturing at the potion with his free hand, still keeping his wand trained on it. "That is your obligation, as you discovered it."
With that, Snape swept from the infirmary, closing the door behind him.
Harry looked again at the stump of his arm, and gritting his teeth, lifted it. He discovered, to his surprise, that he could still feel the fingers of his left hand, and the movement of his wrist, and the flexing of the muscles of his forearm…
"I can still feel the arm!" Harry said.
"That is called Phantom Limb Syndrome. A person who has lost a limb feels recurring pain as though it is still there, but…" Madam Pomfrey began to explain.
"No, that's not it! I can feel the arm as if I still have it! Without any pain!" Harry said, now moving the stump more freely.
"Really?" Madam Pomfrey said, her curiosity piqued. "I suppose that has to do with the manner in which you lost your arm. What you are describing has also never been recorded before."
Harry waved his hand in front of the stump, but felt nothing. He sighed.
"I can't feel that."
"Well, naturally not, as your arm isn't really there," Madam Pomfrey said.
Harry was suddenly hit with a dreadful thought.
"Who knows about…this?" he asked, gesturing at the stump.
"Myself, Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape, at the moment. I imagine that the headmaster will inform Professor McGonagall, as well. None of the students have been told."
Harry swallowed hard. Hermione and Ron didn't know.
He looked at Madam Pomfrey. "Can I go?"
"Not yet. I want at least a day of bed rest to recover from the operation, and you will spend it here." She summoned a long-sleeved dressing gown from the end of the infirmary. She placed it at the foot of his bed and drew the curtains around him.
"Put it on, Mr. Potter."
He drew himself out of the bed, feeling distinctly lopsided. It felt very odd having the sensation of his arm and it yet not being there. He undid the buttons on his robes (or what was left, as the left sleeve had been magically severed), and using his right hand pulled them off. He then pulled the dressing gown over his head with his right hand, and wiggled the stump into the sleeve without much difficulty.
"All right."
Madam Pomfrey pulled the curtains back as Harry climbed back into bed.
"Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley have been asking after you. I will permit them to come and see you, if you wish," she said.
Harry again swallowed. They were his friends. They deserved to know.
"Okay," Harry mumbled. Madam Pomfrey walked down the infirmary and out the door, no doubt going to get them.
Harry leaned back, thinking. He had no left arm. What did this mean about Quidditch, and about other things that required two hands? He looked at the bedside table where his wand was sitting. He reached over and grasped it with his right hand. Red and gold sparks flew from it, same as the day when he had first received it in Diagon Alley. He placed the wand back on the table. He thought about how Ron and Hermione would react when they found out…
Using his teeth, Harry pulled the right sleeve of the dressing gown over his hand. That way, they wouldn't suspect if they couldn't see either hand. He had no sooner propped himself up then the door to infirmary slammed open and Hermione and Ron came running through.
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione said, already in tears. She threw herself on his neck, hugging him tightly. Harry grimaced.
"I'm okay, Hermione," he said. She let go of his neck and sat on the left side of his bed, while Ron sat on the bed next to Harry's on the left side.
"Madam Pomfrey said you had to stay the night," Ron said, searching Harry's face.
"Yeah, and she doesn't trust me to do it back in the dorm," Harry grumbled.
"How's your arm?" Hermione asked, putting her arm out to grasp it. Harry attempted to pull back, but Hermione was too fast. Her hand closed on an empty sleeve where his forearm should have been.
Her eyes widened as she looked again at the sleeve, and the fact it was deflated halfway down.
"Oh my…" Hermione whispered.
"What is it, Hermione?" Ron asked, not having seen what she had.
She looked into Harry's bright green eyes, fresh tears standing in hers. She reached out and grasped his upper left arm and pulled the sleeve up to reveal the smooth skin of the stump that had been an arm. Harry made no move to stop her, looking away as she pulled the sleeve back.
"Bloody hell…" Ron breathed, his eyes widening and his face turning to shock as he realized the truth. Hermione covered her mouth to stop the sobs coming from her.
"Harry—mate…" Ron stuttered, still gawking at the remainder of Harry's left arm.
"She said it was the only way to save my life," Harry said, trying to keep the tears out of his own eyes.
"There must have been another way!" Hermione sobbed, on the verge of bawling. In as a controlled voice that Harry could muster, he told them what Madam Pomfrey had said, and what Professor Snape had also said. By the time he was finished, Hermione was bawling.
"Snape's got what's left in the Potions dungeon," Harry said as unemotionally as he could.
"So, did you come up with a name for your potion?" Ron blurted as soon as Harry was finished talking.
"Ron!" Hermione said indignantly, her crying suddenly abated.
"No, it's okay, Hermione," Harry said. He sighed. "I hadn't thought about it, Ron."
"Sorry," Ron mumbled, realizing his tactlessness.
Just then, the infirmary doors swung open again (they had magically shut themselves) and all three of them looked around to see who it was.
It was Albus Dumbledore.