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
"Ah, Harry. Good to see you. Please, have a seat."
Dumbledore motioned Harry into a chair, and Harry sat, even though he was very excited.
"So, how's your transfiguration coming, Harry?" Dumbledore asked, correctly guessing the reason for the visit.
"I've got it down, I think," Harry said. "That bit you told me about practicing with the image in my mind really helped."
"You've managed to do the Third Arm Transfiguration already, Harry? How many attempts did you make before you completed the transfiguration?" Dumbledore asked, leaning forward slightly in his chair as though interested.
"Five," Harry said. "Although I purposely stopped on two of them, to try and refine my mental picture."
"Five tries?" Dumbledore said with a trace of surprise in his voice. "Very impressive, Harry. I've not heard of anybody mastering a spell like that in so short a period of time."
"Well, I don't think I've mastered it, but I can do it, yeah," Harry said, wishing to clarify.
"Of course, Harry. Would you like to show me?" Dumbledore asked.
Harry stood up and pulled his cloak from his left shoulder. He quickly recalled the image he had placed hours of concentration into, and let himself flow into it again.
The silver appeared and grew, blossoming from his shoulder, running down the stump and extending past it. The process only took about fifteen seconds, Harry realized. It seemed much longer when he was attempting to add the details during his previous tries.
He held out the arm, flexing it. He could see the reflection of the office in its surface, distorting as it followed the curvature of his arm.
Dumbledore reached out to shake Harry's left hand, but Harry pulled back.
"I'd rather not, sir. I haven't really taken the time to learn how much pressure is too much," he said, mentally kicking himself for not thinking of it before.
"I see. Well, Harry, the easiest thing to do would probably be to shake a coconut," Dumbledore said without a trace of humor.
"Excuse me, sir?" Harry said, sure that he hadn't heard right.
"Here, Harry," Dumbledore said, tossing him a coconut that had appeared from nowhere. Harry deftly caught it with his right hand.
"That is somewhat softer than a regular coconut. Squeeze it until it breaks. That will be the point at which you should temper your grip," Dumbledore instructed.
Harry transferred the coconut to his left hand, slowly closing his fist on it. He reached the tension that he would have normally shaken someone's hand at, and tightened his grip even more. Finally, just as he was beginning to exert himself, the coconut broke apart with a deafening CRACK. Milk spurted everywhere, and the meat from inside was squished in Harry's fist.
Dumbledore waved his wand at the mess in Harry's hand, and it vanished.
"Well, the strength of the arm doesn't really show until I exert myself," Harry said.
"Harry, this may seem silly, but I want you to know the responsibility that you've taken on. This transfiguration has enormous destructive potential. Take this," Dumbledore said. He held out an iron bar, about two inches in diameter.
Harry reached out and took it with his left hand. He turned it over, then placed it firmly in his grip. He squeezed as hard as he could, and the screech of poorly tuned musical saws filled the room as the metal crushed in his palm. It also grew quite hot, but the interesting thing was that there was no pain, simply the heat.
Harry unclenched his fist, and dropped his jaw when he saw the damage.
The metal that Harry had squeezed had turned to a blackened, pitted material, and was toothpick-thin where his hand had been. Harry put the bar on the ground and placed his foot on the bar, grabbing the other end with the silver hand. It snapped in two as easily as breaking a twig.
"So now you know, Harry. This is not a charm for mere amusement. This is dangerous. Do not get carried away in your emotions and be tempted to use it to release your anger. The consequences could be incarcerating," Dumbledore said, jolting Harry's mind. He could go to Azkaban if he misused this transfiguration.
"Yes, sir," Harry said, swallowing hard. He now knew what misuse of the spell entailed.
"However, Harry, do not be discouraged entirely. Damage to things such as that bar can be easily mended." Dumbledore pointed his wand at the bar.
"Reparo," he said softly, and the bar, with an unusual popping noise, expanded where Harry had crushed it and the two pieces fitted themselves together again.
Harry picked up the bar, turning it over in his hands. "So, it's around other people that I should be careful," he said to Professor Dumbledore.
"Correct, Harry. Now, I suggest that you go and enjoy the rest of the day. However, you may also want to continue practicing the charm. I believe that you will find that the more complete the image, the quicker the transfiguration," Dumbledore said.
"Professor, how is it that you know so much about this transfiguration?" Harry asked curiously.
Dumbledore gave him a small smile. "I was the Transfiguration teacher here for some time, Harry, before becoming headmaster. I ought to know a thing or two about it." He winked at Harry. "Off you trot."
Harry nodded. "Thanks, Professor Dumbledore." He turned and left the office, the iron bar still clutched in his silver hand.
Harry wandered back up to Gryffindor Tower, absentmindedly tossing the iron bar back and forth between his hands, a dull metallic clank breaking the silence every time Harry tossed the bar into his silver hand. He was going over what Dumbledore had told him, about the danger of the transfiguration, wondering if he should even be using it.
He passed several people in the halls and on the stairs, and he could hear snippets of conversation.
"…missing at lunch, what's wrong with him?"
"…repairing the Potions dungeon, Filch is furious…"
"…can't believe that it would happen…"
"…did you see that? His arm's back!"
Harry turned at the last statement, looking behind him to see who had whispered it. It was a bunch of Ravenclaw girls, who looked back over their shoulders, saw him watching them, and hurried off. He realized that they had probably glimpsed his arm underneath the cloak, but hadn't been able to see the color, or the metallic shine.
Harry thought about using the transfiguration so openly. He definitely didn't want it to become widely known that he was using Dark Magic, and he also didn't want to be bombarded with questions about how he had mysteriously regained his arm. But it took some effort to perform the transfiguration, and Harry didn't want to have to do it over and over again during a single day…
Harry decided to do something outdoors, away from the rest of the school…but there were many students outside, where could he go?
At that very moment, Ron rounded the corner at the end of the hallway Harry was standing in, and spotted him.
"Harry! There you are. I was looking for you, wondering if you wanted to…" Ron stopped, seeing the candlelight dance off the shiny surface of Harry's skin.
"Harry, you did it? You managed it already?" Ron said in an incredulous voice.
"Yeah, been practicing all morning. Took a bit out of me, too. I was just in Dumbledore's office, telling him," Harry said, jogging down the hall towards Ron. "What was it you were going to say?"
Ron seemed transfixed on the arm, and Harry had to snap his fingers in front of Ron's face to make him focus.
"What…? Oh, I was, um…going to ask you if you wanted to practice Quidditch…you know, since you said you would try to get the hang of flying one-handed…" Ron's voice trailed off as he realized that Harry didn't need the practice.
"Yeah, that'd be great!" Harry said, surprising Ron. It was the perfect place to get away from the school and just think, and he could get some flying in as well. "Are you sure there aren't any other teams practicing right now?"
"No, they're all finished for the term, the next game isn't until after the holidays," Ron said, brightening a bit. "Do you want to go get the brooms, and I'll go get the Quidditch balls from Madam Hooch?"
Harry nodded. "Sure, but just get the Quaffle and the Snitch. I don't feel like playing with Bludgers right now."
Ron turned around and jogged back down the hallway, back the way he had come. Harry continued the way he had been going, back up to Gryffindor Tower. He tugged the cloak about his shoulders as he mounted the steps to the Fat Lady's portrait, holding the iron bar in his right hand. He gave the password and walked quickly into the common room, avoiding talking to anyone as he quickly mounted the steps to the boy's dormitories. He opened the door to his room and poked his head in; there was nobody else there. He felt around underneath Ron's bed for his Cleansweep, and also grabbing his Firebolt out of his closet, he dashed back out, almost jogging out of the common room and down toward the Quidditch pitch.
Harry stepped onto the Quidditch pitch, finding Ron standing not too far away, clutching the chest that held the Quidditch balls, and looking somewhat winded.
"Ron, you didn't have to bring all of them. Just the Quaffle and the Snitch," Harry said, wondering how in the world Ron had managed to drag the heavy chest all the way down to the pitch.
"Madam Hooch said to take the whole thing. Wouldn't let me take just the two. Said I might try to steal them or something. She said that I have to bring it back, too; can't let you take it back for me," Ron wheezed, sitting down heavily on top of the chest. Steal them? Harry wondered. Who would steal Quidditch balls? Harry wondered. As he thought about it, Harry suddenly remembered his trip into Snape's memories, and the Snitch that James Potter said he had "nicked." It probably wasn't the first time one of the balls had gone missing, Harry realized, to make Madam Hooch implement the rule.
"How did you get the chest down here? I hardly believe that you carried it yourself," Harry said, handing Ron his broom and beginning to unlatch the chest.
"Levitated it," Ron said, standing up to let Harry open the chest. "But Filch caught me in the entrance hall, and tried to get for doing magic in the corridors, but it's only between classes, so he just told me I had to carry it the rest of the way." Ron had a sulky look on his face as Harry flipped the chest lid up.
Harry pulled the Snitch out and let it fly away; he'd catch it when he saw it. He grabbed the Quaffle and turned to Ron.
"Ready?"
Ron mounted his broom, and kicked off from the ground, flying towards the set of goal posts on the far end of the pitch. Harry tucked the Quaffle securely under his left arm, and also mounting his Firebolt, pushed off, gaining altitude quickly. He reminded himself to not relax his mind, otherwise the transfiguration would be canceled.
Flying right-handed was awkward for him, since he normally flew left-handed when trying to catch the Snitch, but he didn't want to risk crushing his broom handle until he'd had more experience with tempering his grip. He flew toward the goal posts, where Ron was hovering, looking determined. Harry feinted left, and then flew right, as if to score. Ron didn't move, staying in front of the center post. Harry put on a burst of speed and drew back his arm, getting ready to throw. Ron began to drift downward toward the right post, and Harry fired the Quaffle off, aiming for the center post instead.
The Quaffle left his hand at a dizzying speed, and Harry was stunned at the strength of his throw. Ron zipped back to the center post and slapped the Quaffle away, then rubbed his hands vigorously, shooting a baleful look at Harry.
"Use your other arm, why don't you?" Ron said in an irritated voice, still wringing his stinging hands.
"Don't want to risk crushing my broom!" Harry yelled as he dove after the Quaffle, scooping it up and steering his broom back up in a steep ascent. "I'll try to throw lighter this time," Harry said, taking a position away from the posts.
Ron returned to the center post, watching Harry carefully. Harry again flew toward him, this time aiming directly for the center post and gaining speed. He pulled the Quaffle out from under his arm, and cocked it back, hurling it toward the left post with what he thought was moderate strength.
The Quaffle still streaked through the air, but not as quickly as before. Ron intercepted it, hugging it to his chest as he rounded the post and flew back towards center.
"Better. I think I can handle that. Throw me a couple more at the side hoops, that's where I have the most trouble," Ron said, tossing the Quaffle back to Harry. Harry swung around, flying back to give himself room for an approach.
Harry rounded sharply, not slacking off at all, shooting back up the pitch like a falcon. He already had the Quaffle clutched in his left hand, and aimed directly for the left post again, and pulling his arm back as if to shoot.
Ron began to drift toward the left hoop, and Harry pulled his broom sharply to the right, putting on an enormous burst of speed. He flew straight past the right hoop, practically dropping the Quaffle through it.
"Not fair!" Ron yelled, diving after the Quaffle. He was a bit angry, Harry could tell, as Ron flew back up to him. He threw the Quaffle roughly at Harry.
"You know I can't compete with the speed of your broom! Make it so I can save it!" he fumed.
Harry gave him a bemused look. "If I can do that, then the next Chaser lucky enough to get a broom faster than yours can do it, too. You've got to learn to be ready for it," Harry said, tossing the Quaffle half-heartedly at the left hoop.
Ron was unprepared for Harry's weak shot, but he caught it before it went through the hoops. He returned to playing level, a sheepish look on his face.
"Sorry. I guess I've just been so confident up 'til now, I…"
"Oy! Potter!" a voice called loudly from down on the pitch. Harry swung around to see who it was.
It was Draco Malfoy, standing by the chest of Quidditch balls with a grin on his face. "Learning how to fly one-handed, are we?"
Harry realized that his cloak was covering his left arm, hiding it from Malfoy's view.
"Sod off, Malfoy!" Harry yelled back, turning back to Ron, determined to ignore him.
"Seems you're not playing a real game of Quidditch, are you? Here, let me help!" Malfoy shouted, and Harry looked back just in time to see Malfoy unhinge the two Bludgers from the chest. They flew into the air and pelted directly at Harry, who was the closest.
Ron ducked out of the way, dropping the Quaffle and speeding toward the ground. Harry tried to do the same, but the Bludgers were right on top of him…
Harry pulled back as hard as he could at the last second, and the first Bludger careened underneath his broom, brushing the twigs as it sped by. Harry looked up to see the other Bludger less than ten feet away. He threw up his left arm to protect his face, bracing himself for the impact.
CLANG.
Harry was jolted back slightly, and he winced as the high-pitched ring resounded in his ears. He opened his eyes to see the second Bludger squirming his grasp, attempting to get free and hit Harry again. He was surprised by how weak its movement seemed, but reminded himself that the arm was extremely strong, and to it, the momentum of the Bludger would seem like stopping a housefly.
A prickling on the back of Harry's neck warned him just in time, and Harry dove suddenly as the first Bludger nearly took his head off from behind. Harry dove for the ground, the second Bludger still grasped firmly in his left hand. He raced toward Ron, who was standing by the chest of Quidditch balls, watching Harry. Malfoy was nowhere to be seen.
Harry landed and jumped of his broom, forcing the second Bludger back into the chest, and chaining it back down.
"Where's Malfoy?" Harry asked, straightening up.
"Dunno," said Ron, who was watching Harry with something close to apprehension. "He took off right after he let the Bludgers out. He didn't see what happened." Ron was a bit shifty, still looking at Harry oddly.
"Well, I suppose I better go get the other Bludger," Harry said, re-mounting his broom and kicking off, looking around for the other black ball. He spotted it circling one of the raised stands, and as he drew closer, the ball whizzed toward him. He slowed down and braced himself on his broom as the distance closed. Harry reached out with his left hand, and caught the Bludger with another CLANG and a mild jerk. It was almost foolish how little effort he had to exert to hold onto the struggling black ball. He flew back toward the ground, landing and replacing the other Bludger in the chest. He realized it was a good thing that he hadn't tried to close his fist on the Bludger or the Quaffle while he had been handling it; Madam Hooch probably would have made Ron replace them, since he was responsible for them. He started to look above him, squinting around the pitch.
Ron was still standing next to the chest, watching Harry as he scanned the skies. "What're you doing?"
"Looking for the Snitch," Harry replied, peering about. It was starting to get dark, and Harry knew that if he didn't find it soon, they were in trouble.
Suddenly, the Snitch appeared right in front of his face, mere inches from him. Harry attempted to grab at it, before he realized that it was being held by someone's fist. He turned around to a grinning Ron, who had the Snitch in his hand, and a pleased look on his face.
"How did you…?" Harry asked, an astonished look on his face.
"It hit me on the nose when I was going for the ground. I just reached up and grabbed it as a reflex. I'd say it more found me than I found it," Ron said, scuffing the ground with his toe, a sheepish look on his face.
A grin crept across Harry's face, and he clapped Ron on the back with his right hand. "Well done, Ron. I don't recall you ever catching the Snitch before."
Ron gave another sheepish smile. "Only once before, but nobody was around, and it was almost by accident."
Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at the far end of the Quidditch pitch, saying, "Accio Quaffle!" The red ball soared into the air and down the pitch, straight into Harry's arms. He placed it back in the chest, and Ron put the Snitch back in its spot. Harry closed and locked it, and sat on it heavily.
"Oy, what time is it? Getting close to dinner?" Harry asked Ron; he still hadn't gotten his watch fixed.
Ron checked. "Ten minutes until, actually. You want to go back up?"
Harry sighed, standing back up. "Yeah, but hang on…" He blanked his mind, relaxing his concentration. The silver hand dissolved, receding slowly until it was gone, disappearing into the flesh of his shoulder.
"Could you carry my broom? I'll help you carry this back up to Madam Hooch's office," Harry said, gesturing at the chest.
"Yeah, no problem," Ron said, delicately taking Harry's Firebolt and shouldering it next to his. They both grabbed a handle, and hefting the chest, they started back up towards Hogwarts castle, Ron whistling off-key as they went.