A/N: So after spending the last day or so preparing for Hurricane Irma, there's really nothing left to do but to wait for the storm to get here. And with both school and work closed for the next few days, I had some extra time to write today, and here's the result. It's short, but I wanted to make a post before I inevitably lose power for who knows how long. My thoughts and prayers go out to everybody who has already been affected by the storm. And to my fellow Floridians, stay safe :)

And now, for Chapter 40!

The first thing Harry became aware of when he regained consciousness was that the ground beneath him felt unnaturally soft and comfortable. Someone must have cast a cushioning charm to break his long fall from above.

His next thought was that his arm was definitely broken. Even the barest of movements sent a jolt of pain through his body, and he had to quickly bite his lip to suppress the cry that wanted to escape when the limb shifted ever so slightly against his chest.

And then finally, the rest of the world came to life around him. He was suddenly aware of how loud everything was. It was as though somebody had only just decided to turn the volume up. There was a lot of frantic screaming and yelling. It was several more seconds then, before Harry's brain was finally able to register the fact that he was the cause of all of the uproar. And much of the yelling was being directed at him from the throng of people who were suddenly surrounding him.

"Harry! Are you okay?" both of the Weasley twins were calling to him in unison, trying to push their way through the rest of the Gryffindor team to reach his side.

"He did catch the snitch, didn't he?" Oliver Wood could be heard from behind them.

"Oliver!" Katie Bell scolded.

"That's enough now! Step aside!" another voice suddenly shouted over all the others.

And Harry let out an audible groan as he recognized the owner of that voice.

"No need to worry, Harry," the far-too-happy Gilderoy Lockhart exclaimed, rolling up his sleeves as he made his way to the front of the crowd. "I'll have you fixed up in a jiffy!"

Harry immediately tried to scramble backwards and out of the way of the incompetent Defense professor, dropping the golden snitch he had been clutching in his good hand as he did so. But this only resulted in his broken arm being jostled by the movement, and this time, Harry was unable to keep from letting out a moan of pain.

Lockhart was kneeling at his side, then, tut-tutting at the young Gryffindor's arm. "Ah, this will be an easy fix, Harry," the man stated confidently, withdrawing his wand from his robes.

"No, don't. Please don't," Harry was practically begging, looking around at the rest of the crowd for support. Where were the rest of the professors? McGonagall? Dumbledore? Snape?"

"Nonsense, Harry!" the man replied, already swishing and waving his wand about. "When I'm done, you won't even need to visit the hospital wing!"

Madam Pomfrey looked as though she could spit fire.

"You should have come straight to me!" she exclaimed, for approximately the hundredth time, making her way towards Harry's bedside with a couple bottles in her arms. "Broken bones can be mended in a moment, but growing them back?"

"You'll be able to, won't you?" Harry's eyes suddenly widened in fear, looking quickly from the mediwitch to the useless, rubber-like limb at his side. Both Ron and Hermione also exchanged nervous looks.

"Well, of course, I'll be able to," Madam Pomfrey responded. "But it is a nasty and painful business. You are in for a rough night."

Harry bit his lip and nodded, and the woman then placed the bottles on the bedside table. "This one is a pain potion, and the other is Skele-Gro," the mediwitch explained. "You'll need to drink both."

Sighing, Harry reached for the first bottle.

But then the hospital wing doors suddenly burst open.

And Malfoy walked inside, accompanied by the very same man Harry had seen in the stands during the match. Malfoy's father.

"Madam, my son needs to be examined immediately," the man stated without preamble. "He was injured during the quidditch match."

Madam Pomfrey raised her eyebrows as she glanced over Draco with a critical eye. "I will be with you in just a moment, Mr. Malfoy. You may sit down on one of the beds."

"Time is of the essence, Madam," Mr. Malfoy stated impatiently. "I must leave for the Ministry soon."

Madam Pomfrey looked as though she was putting all of her willpower into biting her tongue.

"Drink your potions, Mr. Potter," the mediwitch said sternly, before turning her attention to the young Slytherin.

"What seems to be the problem, Mr. Malfoy?"

"My head hurts," Draco complained. And then he was pointing a finger at Harry. "He hit me in the air! That's how he caught the snitch!"

"I did not!" Harry quickly defended himself, his stomach suddenly in knots as he realized that Malfoy's father was now staring at him with a scrutinizing gaze.

"Mr. Potter, is it?" the man spoke, as Madam Pomfrey used her wand to run a scan over Draco.

Harry nodded, but said no more.

"Well, I have no doubt that this is nothing more than a big misunderstanding," the man stated, in a tone that Harry thought sounded all too friendly. "As I saw it, Mr. Potter, you passed out on your broom quite near my son. If you did hit Draco, I am sure it was just an accident."

Harry glared at Malfoy. The boy was clearly just making excuses for why he lost the game.

"Well, you have a clean bill of health, Mr. Malfoy," the mediwitch stated then. "There is nothing wrong with you in the slightest."

"I feel dizzy," Malfoy responded.

Harry rolled his eyes.

With an audible sigh, Madam Pomfrey summoned a potion from the cabinet at the other end of the hospital wing and handed it to Draco. "Pepperup potion, Mr. Malfoy. I believe that ought to do the trick."

"Thank you, Madam," the elder Malfoy said politely. And with a last glance at Harry, he turned on his heel. "Come along, Draco."

And within moments, the pair were gone.

"Unbelievable," Ron said.

"So that was Malfoy's father?" Harry asked, still staring at the spot where the man had stood just moments ago.

"Yeah," Ron answered, his voice full of distaste. But before he could say anything more, Madam Pomfrey spoke up.

"I thought I told you to drink your potions, Mr. Potter!"

"Sorry, ma'am," Harry said sheepishly, reaching for the Skele-Gro.

But then he suddenly got an idea.

"Madam Pomfrey, do you think I could have some Pepperup potion, too?"

The mediwitch looked stunned. "You're requesting Pepperup potion, Mr. Potter? You hate Pepperup potion."

"I know," Harry answered, "but I think I need some. I'm feeling a little dizzy, too."

Madam Pomfrey was confused, as were Ron and Hermione, who were both staring at their friend as though he had grown a second head.

"Alright," the mediwitch finally said slowly, summoning another bottle of the potion and handing it to the boy.

"Uh, do you think I could have the other kind of Pepperup?" Harry asked then, glancing down at the label.

"The other kind?"

"Yes. The kind that doesn't make steam come out of your ears. Professor Snape gave it to me once."

Madam Pomfrey raised her eyebrows. "I'm afraid I don't have that variation of the potion on hand, Mr. Potter."

"Oh," Harry stated, as he began to pick at the frayed edges of the bedsheets with his good hand. "Well, do you think Professor Snape might have some on hand?"

The mediwitch frowned in confusion, but finally let out a sigh. "Drink your potions, Mr. Potter, and I will send a message to Professor Snape."

Harry smiled. "Thank you, ma'am."

"I think he may have hit his head pretty hard," Ron whispered to Hermione.

"Visiting hours are over, I'm afraid," Madam Pomfrey announced then. "Say your goodbyes. Mr. Potter will need plenty of rest."

"I hope you feel better, Harry," Ron said, still eying his friend curiously.

"Thanks, Ron," Harry answered, pretending not to notice his friend's confusion.

Hermione smiled. "Before I forget, Harry, we ran into Colin Creevey on our way up here. He said he wanted to talk to you about something."

"He probably wants to take your picture," Ron suggested, rolling his eyes.

Harry nodded in agreement, though secretly he felt a bit hopeful. Had Colin finally found the solution? Would he finally be able to repair his pictures?

A moment later, then, the mediwitch was ushering Ron and Hermione to the door, and Harry was left to finally take his potions.

Harry winced as he felt another stabbing pain shoot up his arm. Madam Pomfrey had ordered him to take a bit of sleeping potion, but the boy was stubbornly refusing to do so until the Pepperup potion arrived.

"Really, now, Mr. Potter. You are being absolutely ridiculous. This will help you to sleep through the worst of the pain."

"It's not that bad," Harry lied, trying but failing to keep his face neutral.

"That is not your call to make, Mr. Potter," a new, silky voice sounded from the hospital wing entrance.

Harry's head quickly turned, and he soon found himself looking into the potion master's eyes.

The man strode into the room, making his way quickly to Harry's bed.

"Thank goodness, Severus. He refuses to sleep until he has some Pepperup potion," Madam Pomfrey explained.

"I see," the man's voice sounded deadly, as he withdrew the requested potion from the pocket of his robes. Harry had to suppress a shiver at the tone.

The potions master moved forward then, taking in the sight of Harry's arm more closely. "Lockhart did this to you?" he demanded.

"Yes, sir," Harry answered, secretly pleased that his plan had worked and the man was finally talking to him again. "Well, he removed the bones. Before that, the bludger broke my arm. It wouldn't stop following me around the pitch."

Harry tried to figure out what the look on Snape's face might mean, but it was impossible to discern.

"I won the game, though!" Harry announced happily then, the pain in his arm momentarily forgotten. "I told you I could beat Malfoy with one arm! You should have seen it!"

"I believe you stated that you could win with one arm tied behind your back, not shattered into pieces," the man countered harshly, no trace of amusement in his voice. "And you never should have allowed Lockhart to get near your arm, you idiotic child."

"I tried to get away," Harry defended himself. "But no one would help me. None of the other teachers were around."

You weren't around, Harry finished to himself, though the unspoken accusation seemed to hang in the air between them.

"Take your potions," the man finally stated, in a tone that suggested there would be no arguing. "And from now on you will obey Madam Pomfrey when she gives you an order. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Harry answered, accepting the Pepperup potion from the professor. But another jolt of pain in his arm caused him to let out a sudden groan.

A flash of something like intense anger seemed to pass across the potion master's face then, but Harry had no time to think on it before Madam Pomfrey was handing him the sleeping potion, and he was soon drifting off, his eyes fluttering closed.

"I have had just about all I can take," Snape growled angrily, leaning over Dumbledore's desk. "I want him gone!"

"Severus, we've had this conversation before…"

"He could have killed Potter. Your golden boy. Is that what you want, Albus?"

"Severus…"

"Am I the only one to recognize the incompetence?" the man demanded, suddenly rounding on Professor McGonagall, who was also in the room. "Why is it that no other member of staff thought to go help Potter when he fell? Did you all honestly believe that that buffoon would have it all under control?"

"Severus Snape!" McGonagall exclaimed. "How dare you suggest…?"

"Then where were you?" the potions master accused.

"Where were you?" McGonagall countered. "I was in the stands, casting a cushioning charm on the ground so that Harry would have a soft landing."

Snape fell silent for a moment then, and he ran a hand across his tired eyes. "Forgive me, Minerva. I—"

"Lost your temper," McGonagall replied. "I understand, Severus. But you must remember. You are not the only one who cares about Harry."

And with a nod to Albus, McGonagall made her way to the exit, completely ignoring the stunned expression on the potion master's face.

And all the while, Albus Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling merrily.

A/N: Wow, we've just passed 100,000 words, guys. That's insane! I swear I never imagined this story would become even half that size. Thank you to everyone for your kindness and support throughout this journey. Without you, this story would have never gotten so big.

Thanks for reading! :)

-Ailee17

September 9, 2017