Regulus Black the Potions Master

Capítulo 26

"Urgh" Harry groans, trying to get comfortable in bed.

He'd love to have something to concentrate on instead of the terrible pain he's feeling right now. Never before has he regretted playing Quidditch as much as today, not so much for the game itself, not even the bludger was so terrible. It's not as if he's never fallen from high places before - he's had to clean the gutters of the house when he lived with the Dursleys, he's done it several times, including in winter, and he's fallen from there a few times, so he can say he knows the pain of a broken bone - but the pain this time is much worse than the last few times.

Maybe it's the Potion he's been forced to take, or maybe it's because the bones in his right arm have disappeared thanks to his teacher.

Harry bit his lip, suppressing a cry of pain, tears streaming down his face as he closed his eyes tightly.

If only he could get through all this without being conscious, if only he could sleep, but there was no way to sleep with the sensation of burning needles piercing his arm from the inside out.

He took a few deep breaths and wiped his face as best he could.

"Potter."

Harry opened his eyes and found his potions teacher standing at the foot of his bed. The man was staring at him with a worried, tired look that made him look older than he was.

"I'd ask how you're feeling," he said calmly, "but I know from experience what Skele-gro does."

Harry took a few deep breaths to make sure he could speak without stuttering.

"You've already had your bones disappear."

Professor Black dropped his head a little to one side, a lock of his wavy black hair falling over his gray eyes. His gaze wandered for a moment as if he were remembering something.

"Not exactly," he replied, his voice still low and soft, "but I've broken a few bones in my time as a player."

"Did you play Quidditch?"

"Oh, yes," Regulus smiled slightly, "I've played since my third year. I, like you, was a seeker."

"So you played against my dad?" Harry said, remembering the trophy with his father's name on it in the trophy cabinet.

"Oh, yes, I did," Black didn't sound so excited, just more tired - "I played against him several times. Your father was a good chaser, although he played seeker in some games.

"What was he like?" Harry asked, not many people spoke of their fathers as anything other than heroes.

It was different with Mr. Black, because he was almost the same age as his parents, as far as Harry knew, and he didn't see them as heroes, or students, or just younger people. It was a very different view from most.

"Like an athlete?" Black pondered, "I think he was a lot like Mr. Wood in that respect. Determined, stubborn, and seriously annoying when it came to training."

Harry was interrupted from his next question by a sharp pang of pain that wracked his stomach, forcing him to breathe through his mouth a few times before he got a grip on himself.

"I'll see if Madam Pomfrey has anything to help you sleep," Black said, clasping his hands behind his back, "the Potter who invented that potion really should have thought of something to help with the pain."

"What?" Harry let out a stuttered breath.

"Skele-go, it was a Potter who created that potion," the professor replied simply, "I can tell you that although your particular potion skills are average, several of your ancestors were potionists and talented potion makers."