Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. Sucks to be me. And you. Since I'm pretty certain none of you are J.K. Rowling.

A/N: Here's another chapter - enjoy! Please please PLEASE review. About anything. Writing style, the way I portray the characters, if something is just plain stupid. I can't make it better if I don't get critiques. I would definitely appreciate it!

Chapter 3: An Unexpected Injury

Hermione sat impatiently outside the barrier that separated herself and Harry as Madam Pomfrey examined him. Despite the nonchalant way she had scrutinized Harry's pain, she couldn't help but feel worried. If he had a broken rib, Madame Pomfrey could heal it in an instant, but what if an unknown spell had hit him? What if Voldemort had done something that couldn't be repaired?

Her fears were not abated by the sudden gasp that came from behind the curtain.

"Oh my…" Madame Pomfrey said.

Hermione leapt from her seat and launched herself around the thin cloth and jolted immediately to a stop at the sight that met her.

Madame Pomfrey had apparently requested Harry remove his shirt, because he sat bare-chested upon the bed. Hermione could easily see what had elicited a gasp from the Healer: by removing his shirt, Harry had uncovered a horrifying mark that spread across his heart, intensely black and lacing outward in spidery tendrils so that it covered half his chest. The only word that could somewhat describe it was a bruise, yet Hermione could clearly see that this is not what it was.

"Harry," Hermione breathed, "what happened?"

"I'm not really sure," Harry said, sounding like he was very sure. He sounded slightly bewildered, but not especially concerned.

"I've never seen anything like it," Madame Pomfrey said in a slightly nervous voice. Hermione had a feeling her tone had less to do with the mark disfiguring Harry's chest as it had to do with the mark itself being an ailment she had never crossed before.

"Surely you can get rid of it, though," Hermione entreated.

This snapped Madame Pomfrey back to attention. "Of course I can!" she said in a somewhat haughty manner. She brandished her wand and pointed it directly at the center of Harry's chest. "Episky!"

Hermione watched the mark closely, but nothing happened.

"Well," Madame Pomfrey said tersely. "That didn't work."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Duh.

Madame Pomfrey cleared her throat and once again flourished her wand. "Cista Emendo!"

Hermione turned her attention to the mark for a second time, but, once again, nothing. She could plainly see that the nurse was getting flustered. She could also plainly see that Harry was fairly amused.

"Curatio Arcamos!" A shower of mist sputtered out of Madame Pomfrey's wand and shrouded Harry's chest momentarily. She watched the mist disintegrate expectantly, and let out a growl when she saw the mark hadn't budged.

"That's it," she muttered to herself, rolling up her sleeves in determination. She was now pointing her wand at Harry as if she were holding him at sword-point. After taking a deep breath, she began shouting spells ruthlessly in a continuous stream. Even Hermione couldn't keep up with the string of enchantments.

After almost two minutes straight, Madame Pomfrey finally ceased speaking and waited as yet another cloud of mist began to disperse from Harry's chest. She seemed more confident than she had been earlier, and Harry merely looked shell-shocked from the barrage of spells. Hermione felt herself clutching the edge of the bed Harry sat on as she waited in anticipation for the cloud to clear…only to be met with the sight of that same stubborn bruise. Madame Pomfrey visibly slumped.

"I don't understand…I've tried everything there is…what could possibly…"

"That's alright, Madame Pomfrey," Harry said while slipping from the bed. His attitude suggested he had held no high hopes of her removing the mark. "I'm sure it's nothing serious."

"If it was nothing serious, I would have been able to remove it," she said rather bitingly.

"Not necessarily. Anyway, could you help with this soreness? That's really my only complaint right now."

Begrudgingly, Madame Pomfrey whisked a potion vial from the bedside table and thrust it into Harry's hands. Without a word, she retreated to her office.

"Someone's holding a grudge," Harry said, uncorking the potion and taking a swallow. He was pleased to find out that it had no particularly vile taste and was even more pleased at the relief that spread through his body. The sensation felt like a warm wave flooding through to his fingertips, rinsing away his pains. He glanced at Hermione and could see she was intensely irritated by his lack of emotion for his incurable injury.

After he had finished the potion, he set the bottle back on the night-table stand and promptly walked toward the door with Hermione at his heels. He sensed her bristling like a goose behind him so he was not surprised when she gripped his arm as soon as the door to the hospital wing shut closed behind them.

"Harry," she hissed. "I have a feeling you have some major explaining to do."

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