Harry felt comfortable. He was warm and tightly wrapped in a blanket, and he couldn’t really think of a good reason to open his eyes.

“Potter, I know you’re awake. Madame Pomfrey needs for me to ask you some questions, and you need to take a potion,” Professor Snape said.

‘Ah, nothing like that voice to bring him out of a nice dream,’ Harry thought sarcastically.

Harry still struggled with wanting to stay wrapped in his safe little cocoon. Wait, why was Snape in his room?

"Potter, you have to open your eyes." Snape repeated.

Harry moaned and rolled over but an immense wave of pain immediately shot up throughout his whole body. He opened his eyes and looked at Snape. His memories came back quickly....

Explosion....

Wards....

Trapped.....

Pain...

Leg....Leg! They were going to amputate his leg!

He didn’t feel the pain he expected in his leg. His head hurt though, and he didn’t want to move his arm again if he could avoid it. But his leg didn’t hurt.

Harry sat up slowly and forced himself to look down. All he saw was the blanket that was tightly wrapped around his body. Harry struggled to get out of the blanket. He had to know...but the more he struggled the tighter the blanket became. Snape must have put some kind of spell on it.

Snape watched Harry struggling with the blanket. He had purposely made it tight hoping that he would have a chance to talk to the boy before he started overreacting as he surely would.

“Potter, stop fighting with the blanket. In your state, it will surely win.”

Harry resisted, and he started breathing heavily. He was hyperventilating.

"Potter, you have to calm down," Snape said.

Calm down? He couldn't calm down. What had they done? What had Snape done! They tricked him.

Snape tried again. It would not do any good if Harry kept having a panic attack.

“Drink this,” Snape said.

Harry felt a vial against his lips. He shook his head. He wasn’t going to drink anything that Snape gave him, not after what happened the last time. Then Harry felt a hand behind his head holding it still while the potion was forced into his mouth. Harry struggled against the blanket some more, but now even his hands were tangled up, and pain shot through his arm every time he moved.

Harry inhaled the potion when he tried to take a breath. He began coughing, but eventually it went down. Snape released him back onto the floor.

"What did you give me?" Harry spat although his anger and frustration was slowly ebbing away.

"That was a calming potion Potter. We need to....talk," Snape said as if the word was going to give him the plague, "but first Madame Pomfrey needs to ask you some questions."

Madame Pomfrey was still there? Harry looked over in the fire and sure enough saw the nurse's worried gaze. "Potter, I know this is hard for you but I need to know exactly how you feel."

Harry was slowly starting to register his surroundings. Snape, Madame Pomfrey and Fawkes were all staring at him. Fawkes had his head cocked to one side, and Snape had a neutral expression.

“My arm hurts,” Harry replied.

Madam Pomfrey glanced quickly towards Professor Dumbledore and then turned her gaze back to Harry.

“Yes, you did break your arm, but how are you feeling otherwise?”

“I’m tied up in a blanket. I can’t very well tell how I’m doing!”

“Madame Pomfrey asked how you felt, not what you look like. Now tell her,” Snape demanded.

"I just told her! My arm hurts! Would you like me to describe to you how it feels? It feels like there are lots of pins sticking out of it, and it’s smashed into tiny little pieces and as if it was thrown in front of a moving car. Happy?"

"Well it probably has the same feelings as if it were thrown in front of a car. How about places other than your arm?"

Harry rolled his eyes but answered nonetheless. "My head hurts, and my ribs hurt. My foot kind of hurts, and my nose feels like it's broken."

“Severus, did you give him the pain potion?” Madam Pomfrey asked.

“Not yet, I thought you wanted to ascertain his condition.”

“Well, I don’t think there is anything else that I can do from here. He should take the potion. What about your leg, Harry? How does that feel?”

“How do you think it feels? There’s nothing there to feel! If it were there, then I might feel normal instead of like some kind of freak!”

“That’s enough, Mr. Potter,” Snape said.

Harry ignored him and continued. "What am I going to do now? I have no bloody leg. People are going to start calling be stump boy! I can't believe you did this! I can't believe you all did this! What am I supposed to do now?"

"Oh, stop whining Potter. You will be taught how to use a magic prosthetic leg. You won’t even notice the difference," Pomfrey said.

“Oh, you mean in the way that Wormtail doesn’t notice that fake arm of his. Ohhh, will I get magic powers with my leg? Can I use as a wand and kick spells at people. No, this is stupid. Just because you couldn’t wait to take me to a proper hospital. There’s nothing I can do now. Voldemort’s just going to have to die on his own, and that’s not bloody likely to happen.”

“Potter, there was nothing we could do. If we didn’t do what we did you could have died,” Snape said.

“Could have? COULD have? I also COULD have lived and had two legs.”

Snape just crossed his arms and put a neutral expression on his face. Harry grumbled. Snape was just going to wait for him to finish. Well, he had a lot more on his mind.

Snape knew that it was a normal reaction to such a trauma. Even though he despised the boy, he couldn't do anything. He couldn't yell at Potter no matter how much he wanted to.

"I thought I liked that bird. Fawkes was always friendly to me, and he said he could help but he couldn't. He had always been able to help. I can't believe I actually talked to him but-"

"You talked to the phoenix?" Snape asked in shock interrupting his rambling.

"Yeah....stupid bird," Harry muttered.

"Potter, that bird saved your life. He healed your leg to what it is now. Now, about you being able to speak to him...."

“Yeah, what about that? Not like it did any good for me.”

“Well, Mr. Potter, I think he did something great for you,” a voice called from the fireplace. Harry looked up and saw that Professor Dumbledore was standing next to Madame Pormfrey and that Fawkes had flown back through the fire and was now sitting on Dumbledore’s shoulder.

“He knew what needed to be done and was able to help Snape perform the operation. And, he understands why you’re upset. He’s willing to give you some time.”

“Time for what? To grow back another leg. I know he can do that sort of thing, but I can’t!”

"Potter, don't be stupid! Just take this like a man," Snape said finally.

"Ahh, Severus, you were doing so well with being understanding," Dumbledore said.

"I wonder if I could get a leg that will help me be a better Quidditch player," Harry wondered aloud.

"Albus, he's gone mental," Snape proclaimed.

"I could throw a fake leg at Malfoy when he is being a git!" Harry kept on going.

"He has not gone mental Severus. He is just trying to cope with this."

"And what am I supposed to do?" Snape questioned

"Talk to him Severus. Harry?" Dumbledore said trying to get Harry out of his reverie.

"What?" Harry asked sharply.

"You have the ability to talk to phoenixes."

“I know that. I was the one talking to the bird.”

“You didn’t find that a bit unusual?” Dumbledore asked.

“No, well not at the time. I remember before when Fawkes sang to me I felt like I could understand what he was saying. It wasn’t words or anything, but still. Why shouldn’t I be able to talk to Fawkes. I can talk to everything else. Snakes, walls, Professor Snape...”

“Harry, this is a very significant development. Godric Gryffindor could speak to his phoenix – this phoenix in fact. That ability has been passed down though his bloodline.”

"So....I am related to Gryffindor? I could have guessed that," Harry said in a daze.

"I can also speak to Fawkes."

"So, does that mean you're related to me?" Harry asked.

"I am a very, very distant cousin. We have very little of the same blood, but it is in there somewhere."

“I should have known,” Harry said. “So what? I’m related to a founder, Godric Gryffindor. I bet half the Wizarding World is. I bet even Professor Snape is.”

“I most certainly am not,” Professor Snape said.

“Well, Harry, you look quite tired. Perhaps you should take the pain potion from Professor Snape and get some rest now,” Professor Dumbledore said.

“Yes,” Madame Pomfrey agreed. “Rest, and we can talk again tomorrow. We’ll have Fawkes bring you some food and some more potions.”

“Perhaps you could send some ingredients so that I can make a fresh stock. These are almost expired,” Professor Snape said.

“All right, we’ll see what we can do. Make a list of things you require. But we can only send so much though the fire.”

“I am not tired, and I do not need a sleeping potion,” Harry insisted.

“Well if you’re not tired, then you obviously do need a sleeping potion,” Snape said.

“What are you talking about? I’ve only been awake for like 15 minutes. You just want me to be quiet, don’t you?”

“Yes Potter, I do quite want you to shut up, but I would give you the potion anyway. You need to rest. If you would remember, you didn’t want to get up. You need rest and some more time for your body to recuperate.”

Harry crossed his arms and tried to look as defiant as he could while lying on the ground wrapped up in a blanket. He waited as Snape finished up his conversation with Madame Pomfrey and Dumbledore. But he knew he wouldn’t win.

Harry didn't want to sleep. He couldn't sleep. He would have dreams and visions and who knows what else. Harry waited for Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey to leave the fire.

"Drink this Potter," Snape said.

"I said I don't want to!" Harry tried one more time.

"Mr. Potter, you are drinking this sleeping potion if I have to force it down," Snape said forcefully.

“Fine, I’ll drink it,” Harry said. He accepted the vial and emptied the solution into his mouth. Then, he rolled over with his back to Snape. He spit the potion back into the vial and tucked it into the pocket of his pajama pants.

He closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. And then he waited. He head Snape moving about the room doing something or other. He heard Snape preparing a bed for himself. Then, he heard Snape begin to read a book. He heard the pages turning flip...flip. What if Snape never went to sleep? Harry wondered.

Finally, an hour later it seemed, his professor fell asleep. His cloak was laid out on the floor, and near Harry's leg was a bottle of Firewhisky. There wasn't much left in it, but Harry used his foot to kick it over to himself. He unscrewed the lid and took a sip. That first sip made Harry cough a little bit, but he soon got used to the taste. Once he did he gulped the rest down and dropped the bottle with a loud clunk on the ground.

‘Oh no, I hope that doesn’t wake him up,’ Harry thought. Harry rolled himself over and started pulling himself away from the sleeping professor. He looked around the small basement room for the first time since he woken up. It was very small. Were they really stuck here?

Harry looked down at the blanket covering his body. ‘It’s not cold in here. Why do I have a blanket?’ He started to unwind the blanket with his good arm. He finally managed to get the ratty thing off him, and then he looked down at his legs. By the faint glow of the fire light, he only saw one set of toes. He tried wiggling his toes, and he felt the toes of both feet move, but when he looked down only one foot moved. Where was his other foot?

Harry felt his knee and then moved his hand down a bit further when it just fell to the ground. There was nothing there. Nothing. That was where his leg was supposed to be, and there was nothing there. Harry started hitting the ground harder in the place where his leg should have been. Nothing. There was nothing there. It was gone. No, Harry thought. This is not right. There should be something there. But what? His mind was starting to go fuzzy.

Snape woke up to hear heavy breathing and a fist banging on the floor. He sat up and looked at Potter. He was beating the floor with his hand, and his hand was getting truly battered from the sharp stone floor. Snape looked over and saw the empty Firewhiskey bottle near the boy's foot. "Potter, what are you doing?" Snape spat still not fully awake.

“I’m looking for my leg,” Harry answered. “Have you seen it?”

“Did you drink all of this?” Snape asked holding up his empty bottle.

“There was hardly anything in there. I think you drank most of it.” Harry went back to pounding the floor. Snape grabbed Harry’s wrist and held it firmly.

“Stop that. You’re just hurting yourself.”

“I’m not hurt,” Harry insisted. “I’m just missing something. You know where it is, don’t you?”

“Potter...”

"Is that me?" Harry asked and went along pounding the floor.

"Mr. Potter, I insist you stop right now." Snape demanded and pushed his hands to his chest.

"Fine, fine, just give me back my leg, and it won't be a problem."

"Potter, you are very drunk."

"I am not," Harry said. "I just had a little. It wasn't even that strong."

"Firewhiskey is terribly strong Potter," Snape replied.

"You know professor; I don't think he's coming back."

"Who? Your leg? Your leg is not coming back."

"No...my leg is coming back. I didn't mean to get him killed. It is all my fault again. I should have known this would happen. Maybe if I always took Firewhiskey I wouldn’t be such a murderer."

“You are not making any sense, Potter.”

“Seriously, if I were drinking this stuff it never would have happened. I wouldn’t have gone there, he wouldn’t have gone there. Good old Voldemort would have been there all by himself.”

“Potter, you need to sleep this off. What did you do with the sleeping potion that I gave you?”

“You gave me another potion thingy? I knew you were trying to poison me. Hermione said you were helping, but you weren’t were you?”

“I am merely trying to prevent you from talking anymore so that I can get some sleep. We will be discussing this in the morning. Now, where is the potion?”

"I drank the potion that was in that bottle over there," Harry said pointing to the empty Firewhiskey bottle. "It didn't taste very good but I got used to it."

"Where is the other potion?" Snape asked.

"Sirius died because of me you know....that boy too...what was this name? Oh yeah...Cedric. Cedric Jiggory, I mean Cedric Diggor died because of me. Are you a slytherin? I am too...no I'm not. Am I? I think I am a Gryffindor...or is it Slytherin? Do you know Snapey?"

“Do close your mouth, or I will use what little magic I have left to close it for you. I gave you a vial before I went to bed. I need that vial back right now. Where is it?”

“Vial? Oh, there’s a vial in my pants. I don’t like it there. It’s not very comfortable.”

“Give it to me.”

“I’m not sure where it is.”

“Find it, and give it to me now. If you do not, the consequences will not be pleasant.”

“Nothing is pleasant with you, you know. You don’t even let me have two legs. Here it is,” Harry threw the vial in the direction of his professor.

Then, Harry found a liquid being poured into his mouth and then he couldn’t breathe. He coughed, choked a bit and felt the liquid go down his throat. Then the room started to dim out along with any thoughts that he had left.