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
A/N: This is in Harry's sixth year, midway through the year, approaching the Christmas hols. I might do something leading up to this point, but I don't have any motivation for it yet. Read and enjoy!
How Harry had gotten into N.E.W.T. level Potions, he had no idea. These assignments were so complex, Harry might as well have been trying to build a Muggle car. Sometimes the directions on the page would split off into three different sets, each of them as hard as the next, and all supposed to happen with each other in order to ensure the potion's successful concoction. Harry was struggling, there was no doubt about it.
Only three Gryffindors had scored 'O's on their O.W.L.s: Hermione, Lavender and Dean. Both he and Ron had scored 'E' on their O.W.L.s, but they had nonetheless wound up in Snape's N.E.W.T. class as well, despite what McGonagall had told Harry about Snape only taking students who scored 'O'. Harry reminded himself that it was probably due to Dumbledore, and possibly McGonagall, who had sworn that she would help Harry become an Auror.
Harry shook himself. How many times had he thought about that this term? He couldn't get over the fact that exceptions were obviously being made for him, that people were still treating him as "the special one." Even Snape hadn't been as nasty to him as usual, only taking five points from Harry instead of fifty when he was caught not paying attention. Then again, Ron had also been let into N.E.W.T. Potions with an 'E', so Harry knew that he wasn't the only one being helped along.
Harry's mind wandered, thinking of the upcoming Quidditch match against Ravenclaw, and the hopelessness of Gryffindor's Chasers. Ginny and Katie were brilliant, but Rachel Yepert left something to be desired…Harry had no idea why Katie had picked her out of all those who tried out, since they were all rather lousy.
Harry wasn't really paying full attention to his potion, but something in the back of his mind told him he was doing it wrong. Harry glanced at his watch. There were only ten minutes left! He quickly scanned his potions text for the next ingredient, and his eyes lit upon extract of spleenwort. He hastily rummaged through the ingredients in front of him, and he grabbed the small vial of beige-colored powder. He unstoppered the vial and dribbled a little into his cauldron…
The potion exploded violently from the cauldron, splattering the stone ceiling, the table, and Harry's things. Harry threw up his left arm to protect his face, and the potion doused his arm, soaking through his robes and shirt. The other students screamed, and Snape's head snapped around from where he was criticizing Lavender's attempt at potion-making. Harry looked at his cauldron, and was horrified to see that the potion was melting the cauldron like acid. The stone ceiling was beginning to erode where the potion had splattered, and Harry's things and the table were likewise dissolving.
A searing pain unlike anything Harry had ever felt permeated his arm. He looked and saw the skin of his hand dripping from the bones, which was also being liquefied before his very eyes. He screamed in pain and horror, his voice reaching a pitch where it was inaudible; Harry silently cried out in agony.
Hermione screamed when she saw the robes over Harry's left arm melting away, and Ron stood dumbly, staring with wide eyes as Harry's arm slowly disappeared. Even Malfoy stood rooted to the spot, a shocked expression on his pale, pointed face.
"SCOURGIFY!" Snape bellowed, pointing his wand at the ceiling. The potion abruptly vanished and the damage was magically halted. Snape waved his wand at Harry's cauldron and bag, and the potion was similarly removed.
"You imbecilic—" Snape began to say, but stopped and swore when he saw Harry collapsed on the floor, his mouth open in silent suffering, his eyes squeezed shut, and the bloody mess dripping from the place where his arm had been.
"Cauterion!" Snape cried, pointing his wand at where the potion damage stopped, just above Harry's elbow. A thick white material sprang from the tip of Snape's wand and enclosed Harry's arm completely. Snape moved his wand up Harry's arm, encasing the damaged area with what appeared to be a thick white cast. Harry, however continued to scream with no voice, curling into a ball despite the bandage.
"Do something!" Hermione shrieked at Professor Snape, tears leaking from her eyes. Snape had a look of high astonishment on his face, his eyes wide as he surveyed the damage done by the botched concoction.
"Help him, Professor Snape!" Ron cried. Snape seemed to snap back to reality, and he stared at Harry for a split second, considering his options. Then, with a grim expression on his face, pointed his wand at Harry and said, "Stupefy!"
Harry awoke in the hospital wing, and the pain in his arm was there to meet him. He cried out again, then forced his voice to quit, biting his lip. The pain was admittedly less than before. It's not so bad, he told himself. After he had settled down a bit, he opened his eyes and took in his surroundings.
Madam Pomfrey was standing over him with her wand pointed at him, apparently having just revived him. His left arm was still in the bandage, but looking again, he saw three other bandages like it lying on a trolley next to his bed. They had all been cut away, and the inside were corroded, and stained red with blood. His blood, he realized. He glanced again at his arm, and noted the tourniquet around his arm just above where the bandage was.
He looked at Madam Pomfrey, who had seen him glance at the bandages.
"What's wrong with the bandages?" he asked, attempting to keep his voice even.
"Nothing is wrong with the bandages, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey said. "They worked as they should have. However, whatever impressive concoction you seem to have made was not neutralized by the Cauterizing Charm. Although it slowed the potion's progress considerably, it did not stop it."
"Why is there less pain, then?" Harry asked, glancing around again. He and Madam Pomfrey were alone in the hospital wing.
"I gave you a magical pain-killer. The fact that you can still feel pain again demonstrates the power of whatever it was that you made. This particular pain-killer would stop you from feeling the pain of a beheading, much less a burn…"
"Where's Professor Dumbledore?" Harry asked, then winced at his blunt tone. Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips.
"He has been notified of your condition. No one, and I mean no one, will be allowed to see you until I'm finished with the procedure."
"What procedure?" Harry asked. Madam Pomfrey looked sadly at him, and his stomach plummeted.
"I want to know what procedure you plan on doing," Harry demanded, his voice quavering.
"No, Mr. Potter, you don't," she said and pointed her wand at him again.
"Stupefy!"