Content Harry Potter
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Harry tried valiantly to descend gradually into the clearing behind Hagrid’s hut, but he was having tremendous trouble controlling his flight.   He crashed through some tree branches, nearly knocking his friends off his back.   His left wing wasn’t getting any lift at all anymore, and the pain from his injuries was excruciating. With only one good wing to fly with, they were spinning nearly out of control now.   They were still so high.   He had to get them all down safely.   The Levitation Charms were helping somewhat, but his three friends couldn’t really control their flight, only help give him a little lift, and it just wasn’t enough.   He fought frantically to stay aloft, to glide on wind currents, but with only one serviceable wing and three passengers, it simply wasn’t possible.   He kept trying anyway.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" his three friends shouted repeatedly, trying to keep all of them aloft with their Levitation Charms, but it was hard to do a nice "swish and flick" with their wands when the ground was rushing up at them, and panic was blocking their magic.  

The thestral screamed as Harry’s strength gave out, and all four of them tumbled through the air for fifteen feet or so, and then crashed resoundingly to earth.   Ron, Hermione and Ginny lay moaning for a few minutes, grateful for the pine boughs that had slowed their fall, and the deep bed of snow where they’d landed, since they only had the wind knocked out of them and received a few scratches.   When they caught their breath, they got up and went to find Harry, who was still invisible to them.   Ron tripped and fell over the thestral’s body.   His head hit the edge of Harry’s hoof, giving Ron a nasty gash on his forehead that bled freely for a while.

"Harry!   Harry, wake up!   You need to transform so we can get you to the hospital wing," Ron said, running his hands over the animal’s invisible body as he tried to find a shoulder to shake, some way to wake his friend up.   His hands came off sticky with blood.   There was no response.   "Hermione, can you change him back?"   Ron rubbed the back of his arm across his forehead to rub the blood from his injury out of his eyes and found his arm covered with his blood on the top, Harry’s blood on the bottom.   What a mess.

Hermione sat spread-legged in the snow, holding her head in both hands, extremely dizzy from her fall.   When Ron spoke, she looked up at him with bleary eyes.   "I. . .I don’t think so.   I’m not good at the Animagus transformation.   You know I’m still stuck at the paw stage," she said in great frustration.   She shook her head trying to clear it.  

"That’s better than the rest of us," Ron muttered, still working on waking his friend, "except for Harry, of course.   Are you all right?" he asked, noticing her swaying where she sat.  

"Bit dizzy still.   I hit my head when I landed.   It’s getting better."   She took a deep breath and finally looked up at her boyfriend.   "Oh, Ron, you’re hurt!" Hermione cried, noticing his wound.   "Here, hold this against your cut," she said, offering her muffler.   After he’d wiped off a bit of the blood, she added, "It doesn’t look too bad.   Head wounds always bleed a lot.   What did you land on?"

"His hoof, I reckon.   His hoof — that just sounds weird, doesn’t it?" Ron said, pressing her muffler against his wound while continuing to search for the source of Harry’s bleeding.   "We need to find out where his wounds are — there seems to be blood everywhere.   I don’t know where to press to stop it," he said anxiously.

"Hermione, could you please at least try to change him back?" Ginny begged.   Like Ron, she was running her hands over the thestral’s body, searching for his wounds.   She found a huge gash in his side and pulled off her Gryffindor scarf, pressing it against the wound as hard as she could.   "I think it’s that Restoring Spell Remus and Sirius used on Scabbers, isn’t it?   You lot saw them do it, I didn’t.   Haven’t you learned it?"

Hermione sat holding her head in her hands again, greatly frustrated, and still very dizzy.   Her eyes wouldn’t focus straight and she just couldn’t think.   "No, I never learned that one.   And it took both of them to change Scabbers back into Pettigrew anyway.   I don’t know that a single Restoring Spell would do it."   She straightened up and sighed, watching Ron and Ginny trying frantically to find Harry’s wounds and stop the bleeding.   She shook her head again, trying to clear it, then got to work on changing the invisible winged horse back into Harry Potter.   She did her best, but all she managed after a great deal of work was to reveal a hazy image of jet black hair lying on the ground near the thestral’s invisible head.

"At least we can see where he is now," Ron said encouragingly.   "Keep trying.   In the meantime, this wing is a mess," he said looking up in the air as if he could see what he was touching.   "Oh, I’m sorry, mate!" he said remorsefully as the wing flinched away from his hand.   "I didn’t mean to hurt you."

"How bad is it?" Hermione asked in a quavering voice.

"There doesn’t seem to be any wing fabric between the bend in his wing and his body.   There’s shredded skin on the rest of the wing, I think, but if I touch him very much, I’m going to hurt him," Ron said.   "I can’t figure out where to put pressure to stop the bleeding on his wing.   The blood seems to be coming from every part of the wing I can feel."

Both girls groaned and choked back sobs when they heard Ron’s description of Harry’s injuries.  

"I’ll keep trying to transfigure him, but we need to find Hagrid," Hermione said, trying hard not to cry.   The small glimpse they had of Harry via that still hazy patch of hair had shaken her.   That, combined with Ron’s description, made the seriousness of his injuries seem all the more real.   "I’m sure he can heal thestrals."  

"OK, you stay with Harry.   Ginny, you and I will go look for Hagrid," Ron said, his face grim.

"I’m keeping pressure on this wound," Ginny objected.

"Hagrid takes care of injuries all the time," Ron told his sister gently.   "He can probably sort Harry out.   If both of us look for him, we’ll find him faster."

"All right, I’ll help you find him, then," she agreed reluctantly.   "Hermione, can you hold this cloth tightly on this injury?"

"Yes."   Hermione was still pale and trembling from her encounter with the Dementor and their crash landing.   The smears of Harry’s blood on her cheeks made her pallor even more apparent.

"Stay warm, Hermione," Ron said with concern as he removed his cloak and wrapped it around her.   "You’re not strong yet yourself."

Ginny had already taken off, shrieking "HAGRID!   HAGRID!" at the top of her lungs, her voice ringing in the crystal cold air.

"Ginny, no!   What if. . .?" Ron cried, then gave up and followed her, hoping nobody else was nearby and would discover an injured thestral who was in reality Harry Potter.   "Bloody hell, I could’ve shouted," he grumbled as he raced off after his sister.

Heavy footsteps pounded the earth as Hagrid came running in response to Ginny’s screams.   "What’s wrong?   What is it?   Ginny?   Ron?   What’s up?   Yeh’ve got blood on ya!   Where are you hurt?"

"It’s not us, it’s Harry," Ginny cried, tears streaming down her face and freezing in the frigid air.   "Come with us."   She turned and ran back the way they’d come, Ron and Hagrid right behind her.

"Harry?  Where is he?   Wha’. . .?" Hagrid asked, following them as they’d asked.   "I see Hermione over there.   What’s that she’s sittin’ by?   ‘Tain’t Harry. . ."

"It’s a thestral — you can see it, right?" Ron asked.

"O’ course!   Who hurt one of me thestrals?" Hagrid roared in rage as he rushed toward the scene.

"It’s not really a thestral," Hermione sobbed, smearing more of Harry’s blood across her face as she tried to dry her tears.   "It’s Harry.   He’s an Animagus."

"No.   Not . . .Harry?   A thestral?   Nah, nobody’s ever done tha’.   ‘Tain’t possible," Hagrid muttered as he dropped to his knees in the bloodstained snow by the injured horse.   "There now, son, easy, nobody’s gonna hurt you, that’s a good boy," he soothed the wounded animal as he began examining him.

"It’s really Harry, Hagrid, not a thestral.   Honest.   We watched him transform, and we rode him here.   Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle attacked us when we were flying," said Ron, kneeling next to the gamekeeper and feeling around until he had his hand on the animal’s neck.   "None of us can see him.   How badly is he hurt?"

"His wing’s torn ter shreds," Hagrid said in disgust.   "And he has a deep gash on his shoulder.   It’s pretty bad."   He lifted the thestral’s lip and pressed his thumb against its gum, noting its pale colour and that the gum didn’t pink up quickly after he released the pressure of his thumb.   "He’s in shock.   Looks like he’s lost a lot o’ blood."   He turned to look Ron in the eye.   "Yer absolutely positive this is Harry?   Not a real thestral?"

"Yes, we’re certain.   We’ve watched him change before, and we were with him when he changed today.   He kneels so we can get on easily," Ron explained, not sure how to convince Hagrid.   "Oh, wait.   All of Harry’s forms have a light mark like his scar above their right eye.   Look at his face.   Can you see the mark?   And if he opens his eyes, you’ll see they’re green."

Hagrid bent down and looked the horse in the face, lifting its head slightly so he could see the right side of his head, which was covered with snow.   He gently wiped the snow away, and then sat up quickly, his eyes wide in amazement.   "Great galloping gargoyles.   It is Harry!   I never would’ve believed it."   He started to lower the horse’s head into the snow, but Ginny moved quickly to his side.

"Don’t put his head in the snow," she said, sniffling bravely as she tried not to cry.   "I’ll hold it."   She sat cross-legged where Hagrid showed her to, and he lowered the animal’s head gently into her lap.   Ginny stroked the silken hide tenderly, then sobbed when her fingers found his forelock, only the ends of which had been revealed by Hermione’s spell.   She ran her fingers through his forelock and smoothed it, over and over, while the other hand stroked the soft expanse of the horse’s cheek.   It felt remarkably like Harry’s own hair and skin.   Ginny thought her heart would break any moment.

"There now," Hagrid said as he watched Ginny with the invisible horse.   "Tha’ should comfort ’im some."   He shook his bushy head.   "I’m not sure how ter treat an animal that’s an Animagus.   I need Madam Pomfrey’s help.   Hmmm.   Ron, run up to my hut and get into th’ box under my bed.   There’s clean rags in there.   There’s a kettle on the fire with hot water, as well, and a box of medicinal moss in the cupboard over the sink.   Bring those back here, and I’ll bind up his wounds fer now.   I’m afraid ter use the ointment I’d normally use.   When he’s a wizard, who knows where those wings go?   I dunno, I just don’t know. . ." Hagrid muttered as he continued his examination.   "And Ron?   Bring blankets, too!   We need ter keep ’im warm."

"Right," Ron said, and raced down to Hagrid’s hut, returning moments later to find the gamekeeper had already torn up his own shirt to try to stop the bleeding from the Thestral’s wing.   The shirt was soaked bright red with blood.   It was a strange sight, apparently suspended in mid-air and getting redder by the minute.   Hagrid sat with only his hairy vest covering his chest and back.   He looked oddly white in the pale sunlight, the thick black hairs on his arms and chest looking stark against his skin.   His moleskin coat was draped over the thestral’s body.

"Is his wing broken?" Ginny asked.

"No, but the skin that goes between the bones, that forms the fabric of his wings, I guess you’d say — that’s shredded like mulch, and it’s worst close to his body," Hagrid replied, his face full of concern.   "He’s holding ’is wing open because of the wound in ’is side, I suspect, or maybe it just hurts too much ter fold ’is wing closed."   He shook his head again, thinking hard.   "Yeah, that’s probably it.   We need Professor Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey here as soon as possible — or ter take Harry ter them.   I can carry a thestral if I have ter, but it would be a sight easier if he were Harry."   Hagrid used the water, moss and rags Ron had brought to bathe and bind up the wounds as well as he could.   Then he leaned down and started to pick up the animal.   Just as he did so, the thestral woke up and screamed in agony, the sound coming out like the bellow of a horse in great pain.

" Harry!   Wake up!   You need to transform!   Harry!" Ginny cried, her hands blindly holding the animal’s head.

"His eyes are openin’.   Hmm, green eyes.   Never seen a green-eyed thestral before," Hagrid commented, amazement mixed with tremendous concern on his face.   "Wake up, Harry!   Come on, lad!   We need you ter turn back inta yourself so we can get you ter the hospital wing.   Can you manage it?"

The horse blinked at Hagrid and tried to shake its head.   Then it blinked again, took a deep shuddering breath and groaned.

"Oh, he’s in so much pain," wailed Ginny, tears streaming down her face.

"Harry — if you can, send an Adfero to Dumbledore.   You need him and Madam Pomfrey to help you," Hermione urged.   "I wish we could see you," she said, stifling a sob.   "I don’t know if you heard me or not."

The thestral opened its luminous green eyes, which were clouded with pain.   It lifted its head slightly, pulling away from Ginny’s hands.   At a gesture from Hagrid, Ginny, Ron and Hermione moved back, not knowing what Harry was doing, but aware of his movement.   The thestral rolled onto his belly and tried to gather his legs under him to rise.

"Now, now, you don’t need to do tha’," said Hagrid, patting the thestral gently.   "Just change back inta Harry, there’s a good lad."

"What’s he trying to do?" Ginny asked.

"It looks like he’s gonna try t’ get up on his feet," Hagrid replied quietly.   "That’s what horses do when they’re hurt, they get up and go down, over and over, exhausting themselves if they aren’t helped.   Thestrals are a lot like horses that way."   He leaned over the wounded animal’s body, patting it gently, his face creased in worry.   "Harry, you’re bleeding too much to make that kind of effort.   Lie still.   Don’t think like a thestral, Harry.   You’re a wizard.   Hold on to that.   Transform.   It’ll make everythin’ much easier."

The animal struggled, trying to rise to his feet and crashing to earth with a thud they all felt.   He lay there gasping in pain, unable to think, to move, to do anything.   A tiny spark appeared in his mind, a small voice that sounded a lot like Hermione’s:   "Start small.   Just a paw at first."  

"Look!" Hermione squeaked a moment later.   The thestral’s right front hoof was now Harry Potter’s right hand.   Then his left hand appeared.   Then his arms.   Slowly but surely, Harry Potter emerged from the thestral’s form.   He lay there panting, exhausted, shivering.   Sweat poured off of him in rivers.   His clothes were shredded where he’d been hit with the spells.   His hair was matted and sticky with sweat, as well as with the blood from Ginny’s clothing and from his own wounds.

Hagrid pulled his moleskin coat off Harry and grabbed for the blankets in Ron’s arms.     As he took them, he noticed Ron was shivering, wearing just a sweater over a shirt.   "Ron, put your cloak on.   We don’t need you getting sick on top o’ everythin’ else here.   Hermione, wrap up in this," Hagrid said kindly, offering his hairy vest when he noticed Hermione had Ron’s cloak.   He wrapped the blankets and his moleskin coat around Harry and lifted him in his arms.   The boy screamed in agony and the blankets quickly became stained as blood poured out of his wound again.   "Och, I’m sorry, Harry.   Let’s try it this way, then, shall we?" Hagrid said gently, changing the boy from lying across his arms to being held upright against his shoulder to keep weight off the young man’s injured shoulder blade.   Harry screamed again when the half-giant gently tucked Harry’s injured arm between their bodies so it wouldn’t flop and cause more damage to his side and shoulder.   The boy’s groans finally subsided once he was settled in the half-giant’s arms.  

Bare-chested, Hagrid began marching toward the castle, holding his young friend tenderly, the boy’s head nestled in the hollow of Hagrid’s massive, heavily-muscled shoulder.  

"Harry, if you’re awake enough, could you send a message to Dumbledore?" Hagrid asked.   "I’ve never been much good at sending those Adfero messages myself."   He felt the smallest of nods against his shoulder.   "Good lad," he soothed, lengthening his stride still more.   He saw a tremulous silvery light shoot from Harry’s limp fingers toward the castle.   "Well done.   You got it off.   He’ll be here soon and he’ll know how ter sort you out," Hagrid said, hoping he was right.

In the castle, Harry’s message rang faintly in Dumbledore’s head.   "What?" Dumbledore said aloud.   "Fawkes!" he called urgently.   "Take this to Madam Pomfrey right away," he said as he handed his phoenix a hastily scribbled note.   As Fawkes disappeared in a flash of light, Dumbledore threw a pinch of Floo powder in his fire and called "Remus Lupin!"

Remus’s head appeared in the fire.   "Yes, Albus?   How are you?"

"In a great hurry at present.   Please meet me in the Entrance Hall right away.   Bring your cloak, we’re going outside," Dumbledore said urgently.   He took a deep breath, then gently said what had to be said.   "Harry’s hurt, Remus."

"He’s hurt?" Remus answered, shocked.   "What. . .?"

"No time, now.   Meet me," Dumbledore insisted, heading for his office door.

"I’ll be right there," Lupin answered and disappeared from the fire.

Lupin and Dumbledore were striding across the snow-covered lawn as quickly as they could.   In the distance, they could see Hagrid’s giant figure holding what appeared to be a large cocoon, with long legs dangling beneath it, up against his shoulder.   Behind him, they saw Ron, Hermione and Ginny struggling to keep up with Hagrid.   "What happened, Albus?" Remus asked, appalled at the sight before him.   He could see Hagrid’s arms were bare, and his moleskin overcoat was wrapped around his burden.

"I don’t know.   Harry was very weak when he sent the Adfero.   We need to teach his friends how to send them.   We just haven’t had time to do it," Dumbledore muttered, obviously distracted.   "His message said:   ‘Hurt.   Hagrid.   Come.’"   He shook his head.   "Harry usually sends messages with good detail.   You know that," he added, glancing at Remus, who nodded.   "For Harry to say only three words, and those very hesitantly, very weakly — that told me he was the one who was hurt, and somehow Hagrid was involved.   Hagrid would never hurt Harry, so he must be helping him, or Harry was near his hut.   Anyway, that was my thinking.   I’ve sent Fawkes with a note to Madam Pomfrey so she’ll be ready for us."

By this time, Hagrid’s huge stride had brought him within calling distance of Dumbledore and Lupin.   "Professors!"   Hagrid cried.   "Harry’s lost a lot of blood.   Malfoy and his gang attacked him."

Dumbledore’s face blanched.   "I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this," he murmured as Hagrid drew near.   "Let me see him," he said aloud to Hagrid when the gamekeeper reached them.   Hagrid opened his arms a bit and the blood-soaked blankets were exposed.   "That’s enough.   Keep moving," the old wizard urged, hurrying along beside the half-giant’s stride.   "Harry, can you hear me?" he said gently.

The boy nodded weakly.

"You’re going to be fine.   Madam Pomfrey is waiting for you," Dumbledore assured him.   He sent an Adfero to Professor McGonagall to go find Malfoy and his friends before they got back into the school buildings and keep them under guard until he joined her.

"Harry?" Lupin said softly, rushing along beside Hagrid as well.  

Harry opened one eye and glanced at his godfather.   "Remus," he breathed.

"I’ll stay with you," Remus said stoutly.   "You’re going to be fine in no time at all."

Harry just nodded and closed his eye, relaxing into Hagrid’s enormous shoulder again.   Dumbledore and Lupin dropped back, unable to keep up as Hagrid lengthened his stride, taking the castle stairs six at a time, hurrying to get his friend to the hospital wing.

"What happened?" Dumbledore asked Ron, Ginny and Hermione as they caught up and the entire group followed Hagrid toward the castle.   Ron was supporting Hermione, who was still weak from the Dementor attack and had Harry’s blood on her face.   "What’s wrong, Miss Granger?   Are you injured too?" asked Dumbledore.

"Dementors attacked her in the village," Ron answered.   "One was about to Kiss her when Harry’s Patronus got it."

"Yours helped, Ron," Hermione insisted.   Lupin raised an eyebrow at Ron.

"I’ll tell you about it later," Ron told Lupin, who nodded.

"What about the blood on your face, and on Ginny’s?" Lupin asked, studying their faces as carefully as he could while they rushed toward the hospital wing.

"It’s H-h-harry’s," Ginny sobbed.   Lupin put an arm around her comfortingly.

"How did he get hurt?" Dumbledore asked.

"It’s my fault he’s hurt, Professor," Hermione began miserably.   "He turned into a thestral to fly us back to school because I was so tired from the Dementor attack.   We checked before he changed and there was nobody anywhere near us.   We were in a hidden glen off the path when it did it.   It should have been safe!   But it wasn’t," she wailed, her voice breaking with grief.   Ron squeezed her shoulders comfortingly as they hurried along in Hagrid’s wake.

"You did nothing wrong, Miss Granger," Dumbledore assured her.   "You don’t need to blame yourself.   Harry was helping out his friend.   That’s very much like him.   What happened was neither your fault nor his.   Tell me what happened after he turned into a thestral."

Ron, Ginny and Hermione filled the two men in on the story as they climbed the front steps.   "Who saw Harry as a thestral?" Dumbledore asked quietly just before they entered the castle."Hagrid, that’s all, unless Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle can see them too," Ron replied.

"Miss Granger, how are you feeling?" Dumbledore asked kindly.

"Tired, but I’m OK.   I’m worried about Harry."

"We all are.   We’ll put you to bed once we get to the hospital wing.   Madam Pomfrey will need to check you over, and make certain you’re all right," Dumbledore replied, giving Hermione a gentle pat on her shoulder.

"What happened to him this time?" Madam Pomfrey was saying sternly as she settled Harry in a bed and took Hagrid’s coat and blankets off the boy, then cautiously cut away his ruined cloak, sweater and shirt.   "It seems I just get him patched up and he’s back here again with some exotic injury."   The rest of the group had just arrived.   Nobody said a word as she bent to examine Harry’s wounds, removing the bandages carefully.   "Who dressed his wounds?"

"Me," Hagrid answered gruffly, looking worried.

"You did a nice job," she commended. "As torn up as he is, you did very well indeed."

Hagrid blushed at the compliment, but his face was still concerned.   "He’s lost a lot of blood.   I put some moss in there — that’s good for animals, to stop the bleedin’ an’ all, but I wasn’t sure about it for a human."

"The moss you chose has medicinal properties for humans, as well, Hagrid," she commented as she gingerly picked the moss out of the wound.   "It seems to have stopped the bleeding for now.   But when I remove the last of it, he will start bleeding again.   I have to clean the wounds and bind him up with some herbs on the wounds.   Some of this moss can stay in place," she murmured, now talking to herself.   She straightened up and seemed to notice the solemn group surrounding the bed for the first time.   "Miss Weasley," she snapped authoritatively.

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey?"   Ginny replied, startled out of her tears.

"Go and make me several large herbal bags to staunch blood — you remember how, we did them after that nasty Quidditch match where the Slytherins beat up the Hufflepuffs after the game."   She sniffed in disgust at the memory.   "Such poor sportsmanship!   I never. . .tsk, tsk.   And wash your face and hands first, mind."   The nurse stopped and looked hard at Ginny, then Ron and Hermione.   "All three of you are covered in blood.   Are you injured?"

"No.   It’s Harry’s blood," Ginny said miserably, stifling a sob.

"Well, at least you lot are in one piece. Go wash up and bring me what I asked for," the nurse instructed.   "Oh, and bring a basin with warm soapy water and some flannels.   We’ll need to clean Potter up.   I suppose you three can take care of cleaning yourselves?   Get going, girl."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," Ginny answered, hurrying to her task.

"Mr. Weasley?"

"Yes?"

"Go to my office and look on the shelves along the back wall.   There’s a flagon labelled ‘Blood Restorer.’   Bring that to me, would you?   And a goblet from the cabinet above the sink.   And two, no, three rolls of bandages from the cabinet with the blue door.   Wash your hands before handling anything."

"OK," Ron replied, moving toward her office with long strides.

"Poppy, Hermione was attacked by a Dementor today," Lupin said quietly.

"Miss Granger, is this true?" she asked over her shoulder as she continued her examination of Harry.

"Yes."

"It was starting to Kiss her when Harry’s Patronus drove it away," Ron called from the office.

"Obviously Potter’s Patronus got to you in time," Madam Pomfrey said, glancing at Hermione.   "Have you had chocolate?"

"Yes, Harry made me eat a large chunk of it right away," Hermione replied, her voice catching and tears filling her eyes when she remembered Harry’s cheeky grin as he insistently waved the chocolate under her nose.

"No other injuries?"

"I got a bump on the head from the fall, and Ron has a cut on his forehead."   She stopped herself before she said "from Harry’s hoof."   Saying that would bring up questions she didn’t want to answer.

Madam Pomfrey glanced toward Ron.   "Well, it looks like the bleeding’s stopped for now.   I’ll tend to him later.   Mr. Weasley, let me know if it starts to bleed again."   She paused a moment.  

"OK," he replied absently as he sorted out the things he had to carry to her.

"Now, Miss Granger, get in that bed over there, no arguments.   Stay there until I check you over."   When Madam Pomfrey heard Hermione squeak miserably, she looked up.   Seeing the distress on the girl’s face, she added kindly, "I’ll let you know how Mr. Potter is as soon as possible."

Madam Pomfrey turned to the men around her.   "Now that we’re alone for a moment, can someone please explain this boy’s injuries to me?"

"Eh," Hagrid began, "I, uh, found ’em in the forest behind me hut.   They told me Harry was hit with some spells from Malfoy and his gang.   Dunno what kind."

"That’s only a partial explanation.   His shoulder is nearly dislocated and the shoulder blade has some very odd injuries.   What happened?"

"Poppy," Dumbledore said calmly, "we must keep this information in the strictest confidence.   These students, Professor Lupin, Professor McGonagall, Hagrid and I are aware of the circumstances that caused Harry this odd injury.   We are the only ones who know this.   I will share the information with you only because you need it to treat him properly.   I cannot stress this enough:   it is of the utmost importance that we keep Harry’s secret."

"All right.   What is it?" she demanded.

"He’s an Animagus.   He was a thestral when he was hit with those spells.   The injuries you’re seeing are evidence of the damage to his wing," Dumbledore explained.

"’ Tweren’t just injured, mind you," Hagrid rumbled, his eyes flashing with anger.   "The skin of his wing was completely shredded, especially close to his body.   The bone was showing, what skin was left was hanging in tatters."   He shook his massive head, pulled out a polka-dotted handkerchief the size of a tablecloth and blew his nose noisily.   "He flew like that, brought them other kids home safely.   Bless him.   That’s probably why his shoulder blade is so badly injured and his shoulder dislocated, him trying to fly with only tatters of one wing, and stay balanced with three riders.   Bless his heart.   What a good lad he is."   He sniffled hard, blew his nose again and looked at the nurse.   "Can you see thestrals?"

"Yes," the nurse replied, her eyes wide at hearing that the injured boy on the bed could turn himself into a magical animal, much less fly with three riders, and while seriously injured.   She forced her mind to be rational, so she could help her patient.  Her amazement at what he could do could be dealt with later.

"Then when Harry wakes up, if we can seal this room so nobody can see wha’ happens, maybe he’ll be strong enough ter change inta a thestral again so you can see the damage.   I know how ter treat a thestral with that kind o’ injury, but I was afraid animal medicine might not suit a human.   I haven’t treated any Animagi fer injuries, y’see," Hagrid explained quietly.

"Yes, if he can turn back into a thestral, the treatments you use for them will probably be good for him.   I can’t treat his wing right now because he simply doesn’t have one in this state, but he is still suffering from the injury.   Where do wings go on Animagi when they’re human again?" she asked Dumbledore.

"I don’t know if anyone’s ever studied that," he replied.   "Maybe at some point, you can write a medical paper about it, if you work it out," he added generously.   "In the meantime. . .is Harry’s life in danger?"

"He’s lost a lot of blood.   That’s why he’s so pale.   But Hagrid did the right things to help him," Hagrid beamed when he heard this, "and he was brought here quickly.   I’ll get that Blood Restoring potion in him — ah, here’s Mr. Weasley, I see you found it — right away, and he should be his old self in a few days.   Healing the wing depends on Hagrid.   That’s beyond my abilities."

Lupin turned to Dumbledore.   "What are we going to do about Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle?   They’ve seen Harry as a thestral."

"Not unless they’ve seen someone die since they took my classes las’ year," Hagrid said gruffly.   "I suppose that’s possible, since they seem ter be following in their fathers’ footsteps.   But when we did the lesson on thestrals, they couldn’ see ’em.   So they probably just saw Ron, Hermione and Ginny flying with no brooms and wondered what was up."

"Yeah," Ron said, "I think that’s what happened.   Maybe we could convince them we were on a flying carpet or something?"

"I think it’s time for some Veritaserum and a few Memory Charms," Dumbledore said grimly, "as much as I hate to do those things to students.   They have tried to hurt other students too many times to be allowed to get away with it anymore.   They could be sent to Azkaban for several of these attacks, but I don’t want to give up on them completely yet."

"Not give up on them?" Ron demanded harshly.   "They’ve tried to kill us, and Harry in particular, loads of times now!"

"But they’re still underage, Mr. Weasley, and still in my charge.   I have to hope there’s some chance of them escaping the fates of their fathers."

"Not bloody likely," Ron said hotly, red blotches on his cheeks from his sudden flash of temper.   "When I’m an Auror, I’ll just go find Draco Malfoy and take him in — that will probably solve half the crimes in the country right there."

Dumbledore put his hand on Ron’s shoulder, trying to calm him.   "Mr. Weasley, if you give in to hate, you will become like them.   That’s not what you want, is it?   Harry’s greatest power is his capacity to love.   That’s one of your great powers, as well.   Don’t lose that in your anger at Mr. Malfoy and his friends."  

Ron’s anger still simmered, but he respected the old wizard enough to listen to what he said.   Later, while he sat holding Hermione’s hand as she rested in bed, he thought about Dumbledore’s statement and began to understand what he meant.   He’d have to think about this some more.  

"Headmaster, can you change Potter into a thestral?   Save the boy the effort?" the nurse asked.

"No.   It needs to be his own transformation for you to see how he’s hurt," Dumbledore said sadly.   "If I could change him into the same thestral, I would have already done so."

"That’s what I thought," the nurse replied quietly, "but I had to ask."

"I understand.   I wish I could do that for him, save him that much effort and pain.   But I can’t."   Dumbledore sighed, and then turned to go.   "I’m going to see Mr. Malfoy and get to the bottom of this situation."

"I’ll be happy ter rip their heads off for ya to save ya the trouble o’ dealin’ with ‘em," Hagrid growled, looking more frightening than anyone had ever seen him.

"Now, now, Hagrid, we have to treat them fairly.   They are still students here," the old wizard said, glancing at the grieving Gryffindors across the room, "although they may not be much longer.   We have to find out what happened."   He left to deal with the Slytherins, his face grim.

"Is there anything I can do to help here?" Hagrid asked Madam Pomfrey, who was busily fussing over Harry.

"We’ll need to put his shoulder back in place, but I’m afraid you may be too strong for that," Madam Pomfrey said, casting him a worried glance.

The half-giant hung his head. "I’d never do nuthin’ to hurt Harry, but you’re right.   I’m that upset.   I might not be gentle enough with him."

"Hagrid, you’ve been wonderful with him," Hermione assured him.   "No one could have treated him better than you did."

Hagrid wiped his beetle-black eyes with his polka-dotted handkerchief.   "Thanks for tha’."   He took a deep breath and straightened up, glancing at Harry’s wounded body, then looking quickly away.   "I’ll be in me hut looking for thestral medicine, in case you need it.   If you think of something else I might have that would be helpful, let me know.   I’ll be back as quick as I can."

"Thank you, Hagrid," Madam Pomfrey replied, looking up at him briefly.   "You did a marvellous job with him, honestly.   And the thestral medicine will probably be a good idea."

Hagrid sighed, looking at Harry sadly a moment before going out of the room.   "You lot take care of yourselves, hear?" he shot over his shoulder at Ron, Hermione and Ginny, who were huddled together in a sad little group on Hermione’s bed.

Madame Pomfrey glanced up at the students across the room.   "We could use some help, Mr. Weasley.   Hold on to him around his chest, very tightly.   Try not to touch his injured shoulder or side if you can help it," she said seriously.

"What are we going to do?" Ron asked warily.

"Put his shoulder back in place.   It will be quite painful for him for a few moments.   Hold on tightly," she advised.   "Remus, would you help me, please?"   She and Remus took Harry’s left hand in and arm in their hands and pulled, setting the shoulder back in the socket.   Harry screamed and tried to pull away.   It was all Ron could do to hold on to him.

"I thought he was unconscious," Ron said, his ears still ringing with the horrible sounds of his best friend in agony.

"Not unconscious enough to withstand that much pain quietly," Madam Pomfrey said tersely, "but he has passed out completely now.   Hold his head up and I’ll give him a potion for the pain, and some Blood Restorer.   It’s only a few drops each for now, so he won’t choke on it.   Scar on bum’s the password," she added, seeing Ginny about to ask.   The nurse gave him the medicine and glanced up at Ron’s haggard face.   "We’ll set him right before you know it," she said confidently, privately hoping she was right.   How in the world was she going to repair a tattered, bat-like wing on a human?

Time seemed to stand still for a while.   Hermione smiled a bit as Ron proudly cast his bear Patronus over and over to entertain her.   Finally, she fell into an exhausted sleep.   Ginny sat tensely by Harry’s bedside, across from Remus.   She spent her time smoothing his hair and stroking his cheek, comforting him the only way she knew how at the moment.   Madam Pomfrey fussed over Harry’s wounds.   She’d managed to get more Blood Restorer potion into him, and his colour was better.   At long last, Harry stirred, rocking his head back and forth and moaning before his eyes finally opened.

"Harry?   It’s good to see you awake again," Remus said, leaning forward so the boy could see him more easily.

"Here, sweetie," Ginny said, putting his glasses on his face.

"Thanks," he whispered.   "What happened?   Is everyone OK?   I remember. . . crashing through tree branches. . .trying not to hit the ground too hard."

"Everyone’s fine.   You were the only one seriously injured.   You took very good care of your friends, lad," Remus replied, rubbing Harry’s uninjured shoulder gently.  

"How do you feel, Mr. Potter?" Madam Pomfrey asked kindly.

"I’m fine," he said, as usual.

"No, you’re not," Remus countered with a smile.   "Tell us where you hurt, so we can help you."

Harry looked at his godfather and nodded.   "My back hurts — and my side.   Can I be on my right side?   Lying on my back. . .hurts. . ."   He winced as he moved uncomfortably in the bed.

"Certainly," Madam Pomfrey said, as she and Remus worked together to turn the boy over as gently as possible.  

Despite the pain medication he’d been given, Harry cried out when they moved him.  

"I’m sorry," Madam Pomfrey said.   "There’s no easy way to move you."

He lay there gasping, trying to get his breath back, and just nodded.

"I need to find out where your wings go when you’re in human form," Madam Pomfrey told him.   "Your wing is seriously injured, and I can’t treat it because it’s not . . . well, it’s not there."

"That’s probably why my back hurts," he muttered, shifting uncomfortably in the bed.

"Where is the pain?   Tell me when I find it," she said, gently moving her hand from spot to spot on his back.   When he screamed, she said, "Ah, that must be it."

"Uh-huh," he groaned.

"I can’t find anything that feels abnormal.   Your shoulder was dislocated but we’ve put it back in place.   Good thing you were nearly unconscious for that one," she commented dryly.

"Yeah, good thing," Harry grumbled, stifling a moan of pain.  

Madam Pomfrey continued to move her hand around on his shoulder blade, touching him as softly as she could, pulling back whenever she felt him start to flinch.   "I can’t find any sign of a wing there anywhere, Mr. Potter.   I have no way to treat it right now.   Would it be possible for you to bring them out, but stay human so I can talk to you?"

"A partial Transfiguration?   Yeah, I think I can do that," he said, frowning in concentration.   He rolled over onto his stomach, groaning as he did so.

"Harry, what’s wrong?" Remus asked, concerned.   "Why are you moving around?   Can I help?

"Gotta make room for the wings," he mumbled into his pillow.   "They’re huge, and I don’t know if I can only bring one out."   A shimmer appeared above his bare shoulder blades, and suddenly, black bat-like wings emerged from the smooth pale skin of his back.   Harry screamed as the injured wing emerged, then cried, "Ginny, move!" as the wrist of his injured wing burst into place right where she had been leaning over him.   He lay there covered in sweat and panting with the effort he’d just made.   Blood was starting to ooze from the tatters of his wing.   The only evidence of this that Ginny, Ron and Hermione could see was the steady drip, drip, drip of blood on the floor beside his bed, coming from nowhere, so it seemed.   The wings arched high above Harry’s body, the wing tips touching the floor.   His wingspan was well over thirty feet, and took up a lot of room.

"How are they?" Ginny asked, instinctively reaching a hand out in front of her, trying to avoid his wing as she tried to get back to Harry’s side.

"Be careful, that’s bare bone," Remus warned.   Ginny quickly withdrew her hand, then moved over to Hermione’s bed and sat nervously on the edge of it, watching from a safe distance, her brown eyes huge in her frightened face.   Remus and Madam Pomfrey seemed to be studying something about twelve feet from Harry’s body.

"Let’s try resting the wing tips on these other beds instead of the floor," Madam Pomfrey suggested as she accioed several other beds into place on either side of Harry’s leaving a gap between his bed and the others so she could work on him.  Harry groaned as he tried to lift his wings himself, and then bit back a shriek as Remus and the nurse took his wing in their hands and tried to stretch it out and rest it on the beds nearby.   "I’m so sorry, Harry, but we have to have it open so we can see all the damage and treat it.   Hagrid did a good job, but we need to do more to mend it and help it heal properly."   She turned to Ginny.   "Miss Weasley, would you please use the fireplace to call Hagrid and ask him if he’s gotten those medications together?   I need his help here."

"Yes," Ginny agreed, and ran to the fireplace to call Hagrid.  

Hagrid arrived a few minutes later, a large bag slung over his shoulder.   "I brought plenty o’ supplies.   Didn’t know fer sure which ter bring, not until I see how it looks.   And o’ course, you need ter approve their use on ‘im," he said humbly to Madam Pomfrey.

"Show me what you brought," she said.   The two went to her worktable and spread out Hagrid’s remedies, conferring quietly together.

"Harry?"   Remus said quietly, gently smoothing his godson’s sweaty hair off his forehead.   "How are you doing?"

"I’m. . .fine," Harry insisted, a shadow of his cocky grin appearing for a moment on his face.  

Remus laughed softly at the boy’s show of bravado.   "I’m so sorry you have to go through this," he said, still stroking Harry’s forehead and hair.   He didn’t know what else to do.

"That feels good," Harry said softly, as if reading Remus’s mind.   "Don’t stop."

"OK," Remus agreed.   "Let me know if you want something.   Maybe a shot of Ogden ’ s Old Firewhiskey before they start working on your wing?" he joked.

"Sounds like. . . a good idea," the boy muttered weakly.   "Maybe I’ll. . . get lucky. . . and pass out again."

"Maybe," Remus murmured, wishing there was something else he could do to comfort his godson.

"When I see Malfoy. . ." Harry went on, then stopped.

"What?"

"What’s happening. . . to Malfoy. . . for this?"

"Dumbledore just checked in a few minutes ago to see how you were doing.   He said Malfoy has had Veritaserum and his memory has been altered.   Same with Crabbe and Goyle.   They weren’t working for Voldemort.   They were just getting revenge for their fathers being arrested last term," Remus explained quietly.   "They had just arrived back at school when Minerva found them.   They didn’t tell anyone about your being a thestral."

"Not fair."

"No, lad, you’re right, it isn’t fair at all," Remus replied, "but there was no way to prosecute them without revealing your secret, so this seemed to be the best solution."

"I s’pose," he grumbled, but then he screamed in pain again.   Hagrid and Madam Pomfrey were just beginning to work on his wing.

"Isn’t there some pain killer you can give him?" Remus asked desperately.

"I already gave him some, Remus."   Madam Pomfrey turned to Hagrid.   "I thought he’d need to be awake to help us with this.   Can he be unconscious?"

"Better if he don’ flinch while we’re workin’.   Kinder, too," Hagrid said gruffly, wiping a tear away with the back of his hand as he gazed fondly at the wounded boy.   Harry lay there gasping with pain, blood and sweat mingling as they streamed in rivulets down his back and side.

Madam Pomfrey brought over a flagon of potion.   "Take this, Potter.   Scar on bum’s the password."

Harry smiled wanly and drank his potion.   "Thank you," he told her sincerely, then lifted his head a bit to see his godfather and Hagrid better.   "Thank you. . . ."


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Author Notes:

The Restoring Spell mentioned below is from the HP Lexicon, and was first seen in PoA. When Hagrid presses the thestral's gum to check for shock, that's something horsemen do with ill horses. The way the injured thestral behaves is very similar to how a seriously injured or ill horse will behave, as well. They will struggle to their feet if at all possible, often making the injuries worse. The wingspan is based on the calculations made by PoA "creature designers" who designed Buckbeak for the film. They said his wingspan would have to be thirty-six (I believe) feet to carry his body. They actually shrank his wings when he was on the ground, or they would have dragged the ground. Many thanks to my brilliant Brit-picker, Kelpie, and my betas readers Blakevich, Starfox and Pilar!