Chapter 48.1- Doom Days

“A week?” I asked, gobsmacked. That was— should have been impossible. I knew more about magical medicine than most, and there was a bit of an unofficial rule. Three days. Any wound or malady that could not be healed in three days would never be healed at all. So how had I been unconscious for a whole week. I felt along my body. All my limbs were intact— at least they seemed to be. I flexed my fingers— thumb, index, middle, ring, pinky, on both hands, and then again for good measure before I did the same with my toes. All my senses were firing at full power. Even better than full power. They were still as ritual enhanced as they should have been. I could smell the vanilla in Fleur’s shampoo, as well as the faint hint of lipstick from Sirius’ mouth. That corndog! Good on you, old man. I could hear them both as they spoke, telling me about this and that. I could even see as well as I should.

When it came to my magic, while I could feel it there. As potent as ever, just waiting for a focus so I could unleash it and bend the world to my will. The only issue was that I could not feel my wand. It was nowhere near me.

“Where is my wand?” I cut in, interrupting Fleur as she said something or the other about the Beauxbatons contingent and what had happened. Her lips clamped shut, and while I could tell I would be paying for the rude interruption later, this felt like a more important consideration if I was being fully honest.

“Your wand?” She asked.

“I believe, Miss Delacour, that young Harry here is referring to this” the voice came from the entrance as Albus Motherfucking Dumbledore strode into the room with a wand floating right in front of him. Not my wand. The memories of what had happened in the graveyard had come to me fully now. It was Voldemort’s— Riddle’s. But he had mine now, and that was all I’d made it out with. It was as much mine as anything was, I guessed.

“May I have it?” I said, stretching out my hand.

“Now, now, Harry. We both know this is not your wand. It has been many years since Sirius saw this particular wand in action so I forgive him not recognising it immediately, but I could never mistake this 13-inch branch of yew with a pheonix feather core for any other. So I need to know how you got a hold of it, Harry. And I need to know urgently.”

“You should know already” I said, turning my lip upwards. He had stopped in front of the foot of my bed, but so far away that I could not wandlessly summon it to myself. Either that was a coincidence or he knew. And this was not a world of coincidences.

“What do you mean, Harry?” He was still going to play dumb? Fine.