Chapter - 3 : Wrath Part - 3

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Madam Pomfrey scowled at him and threw her hands in the air. Muttering something about stubborn idiot patients with no regard for their lives or health she bustled away.

Harry tested what in his sore body still worked.

Everything ached horribly and that moving was definitely ill advised. Still, the world was slightly blurry, but his surroundings were unpleasantly familiar. He needed his glasses

With slightly awkward movements, Harry hesitantly reached for the bedside table where he could usually find them after waking up here. Fortunately, aside from the full body ache and some protesting muscle cramps he could do so without screaming in agony. Unfortunately, his glasses weren't there.

"Croak," he complained, drawing the attention of the nurse who determinedly came striding in his direction. Instinctively he flinched back a little. Merlin, but that woman was frightening.

It seemed this was one of her better days as she handed him a cup of water with a straw. Greedily he sucked on it and let the cool water soothe his parched throat.

"Slowly," the nurse cautioned him – as if he didn't know that – but he slowed his drinking to a small trickle until she stopped looking like she would take the water away again.

She made some approving noises. "Very good. Can you tell me your name, young man?"

Harry blinked. That seemed like an odd question to ask. "Madam Pomfrey?"

His voice was hoarse and scratchy.

"Yes, I'm the healer here at Hogwarts. Have we met? I'm sorry, but I don't recognise you."

"What?" Harry asked, very confused now. "It's me, Madam Pomfrey. Harry."

Her expression remained pinched, but her cheeks pinked slightly. She bustled out of his line of sight to appear on the other side of his bed. "I'm sorry, but that's still not ringing any bells. Harry who?"

Well, if she was that forgetful she deserved to be played with. "I think I'm offended. I've been here often enough."

"Yes, well, aside from Miss Potter's record-breaking streak of life-threatening injuries I don't actually keep track of who visits here the most."

A lead weight settled itself in his stomach and Harry stared at her incredulously. Miss Potter?

"What happened?" he asked instead, "How did I get here?"

She frowned. "I don't know exactly. Professor Dumbledore brought you in, though he didn't say where he found you. Are you saying you don't remember?"

Hesitantly he shook his head. He was going to have dinner with the Grangers and then... a thundercloud? Or something?

The nurse looked at him with pursed lips. "Well, I can tell that you were exposed to a great amount of Dark magic, though I'm unsure as to what spells exactly."

She hesitated briefly, but then clinically and dispassionately started listing a litany of injuries. "You had nineteen broken bones, with four broken multiple times and three pulverised completely. There were a multitude of cuts, with your skin literally flayed off in some places. A collapsed lung and pierced bladder with your throat both collapsed and pierced. A great many blood vessels were burst, though fortunately your major organs seemed mostly all right besides being some bruising after being tossed around inside your body. One of your testicles was ruptured. Finally, your nervous system looked like someone had set it on fire."

Harry's face paled as he listened to her list more and more injuries and he was desperately trying to remember what the hell had happened to him. It sounded like he had been tortured and badly at that. But he would remember something like that, wouldn't he? Had a thundercloud done this to him?

"The good news is that I managed to repair all of it, or am currently in the process of doing so."

Harry let out a small sigh of relief but wasn't really surprised. It was Madam Pomfrey after all. She'd always patched him right up.

"However, there were some side-effects."

Harry stilled and his eyes widened. It felt like his heart skipped a beat. His throat was suddenly parched again, forcing him to swallow. "What kind of side-effects?"

"As I said, whatever happened to you, Dark magic was involved. Those kind of wounds are notoriously hard to heal."

Panicking, Harry brought both hands up to his face. His arms were covered in bandages, but he still counted all ten fingers. Frantically he started wiggling his toes. Everything seemed to still work all right...

"There was scarring, Mr... Harry. Severe scarring, if you'll permit me to be blunt. You are whole, with all your extremities intact, but your ordeal has left marks all over your body."

Harry choked back a hysterical sob. Marks. Such a marvellous turn of phrase. He'd been exposed to Dark magic before, and that mark had ruled his life for close to seventeen years.

Merlin, what the hell happened?

"I, um..." To his horror, he noticed that he was breathing so fast that he was on the verge of hyperventilating and he forcibly took control of his lungs in an effort to calm down. In and out. In and out.

Fuck, at the tender age of eighteen he was a new version of Mad-Eye Moody.

"Do you-" He coughed. "Do you have a mirror?"

She looked him over as if judging if he was going to pass out if she either acquiesced or denied him his request, but eventually relented and disappeared into her office to fetch him a mirror the size of a small book.

Harry fumbled with it, clumsy with his hands covered in bandages and his muscles still occasionally twitching. Eventually he placed it face down on his chest so he could get a good grip on it with both hands slowly tilted it upwards and stared.

For once he didn't mind his blurry vision.

Most of his face was bandaged, besides essential orifices, but his chin and the top of his head were clear. There were angry red lines on his jaw, disappearing under the bandage over his cheekbone and the one covering his neck. Harry counted four. It reminded him of the white cutting board in his kitchen at home after slicing a few peppers.

However, what really startled him was his hair. It was grey. Surrounded by bandages it looked exceptionally messy, but it was streaked with white and darker stripes.

Harry furiously blinked away tears. Even his hair was scarred.

Frightened, he let the mirror fall back on his chest and slumped into his pillows.

"Perhaps you'd best get some more sleep," Madam Pomfrey suggested.

Harry looked at her pleadingly, not sure at all what it was he wanted but didn't protest when she tipped a small flask over into his mouth.

The syrupy taste of Dreamless Sleeping Draught coated his tongue.

Harry didn't fight the surging drowsiness. Hopefully this would all turn out to be a weird dream.

If you're eager to delve deeper into the story, consider joining my Patreon for exclusive content and early access to new chapters

30+Advanced Chapters there.

(P).(A).(T).(R).(E).(O).(N)

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