What Happened To Dumbledore's Hand Novels & Stories

"I don't know... I just... I had this urge to touch it. I mean, I originally wanted to. I was going to gather up the pieces I could find and bring them back here for you, but they were just so creepy. It was obvious there was some kind of magic involved, so I decided that maybe it would be better to leave them undisturbed and just tell you what I found." I nodded. Sensible. "But..." Barry continued. "The moment I had that thought, it was like something else was pushing me to take them. Like I was being urged. I couldn't resist. I touched one of the pieces, and immediately, my hand felt like it was being cut off. It was so painful... I screamed, and I think I passed out for a few minutes. Whe

All of them floated in the air. I could finally see Magnus behind what used to be the wall of flames. I immediately noticed his hand. His right hand which he had been using to conjure the flames. It had been partially blackened before, but now it was almost fully black. There were also some white frosty parts of it and mist was floating off it. Was his hand freezing? The blackness had crept up till half his forearm and it was slowly climbing higher. I had no idea what was happening to his hand, but it must have been because of the magic. It seems like he had a limit after all.

She felt like it was going to yank off her arm. His hand shot out, aiming for her throat but she quickly pulled away with force, severing her trapped left arm in the process. She jumped back, leaving a huge space between them as she started to heal the injured arm. She had no choice but to sever it. If that hand had touched her… she gazed at the black flames burning on his palm. There was no telling what would happen. The wet crack of bones realigning split the air. Dareth’s mangled body twitched, his ruined torso knit itself together before her eyes, bones sliding into place like serpents under his skin.

“My fingers!” I look to see what he is fussing at and see the burn on the tips of his fingers, “The dagger did that to you?” I asked with disbelief because I wasn’t looking as he took it. “Yeah, it did.” He exclaims in defense. “That’s how Oliver lost the flesh from his hand. He tried to reach for the dagger, but it was protected by some magical light.” I tell him, bending to retrieve the harmful weapon from the floor. “So only you can touch it?” He asks, shaking his hand and looking at the wounds once more. “Thank goodness I’ll heal,” He says more to himself.

Alas, he suddenly halted in shock. Originally, one of his hands had been the normal white color while the other was riddled by black veins from his last battle. They had already spread a bit, delaying the response when he told his fingers to move. Now, however, he couldn't tell anymore which hand it had been. They were both pure white. If he didn't know any better, he would think that he was never affected to begin with.

Then the hand began to dissolve. It happened slowly at first. A fingertip faded into drifting snow. Then another. Then the palm scraped into particles of frozen magic. The last thing to remain was the shape of the fingers, trembling as if trying one last time to reach through. The wolves held their breath. Marek’s arm pressed protectively against me. Lucian positioned the broom like he might try to defend us from the concept of snow itself. The hand vanished completely. A hush fell over the hallway.

Her dress was torn and covered in dirt. I remembered what the rouge werewolf had said to me a few days ago: "You're too late if that's your concern. She's been ruined." She really was ruined. I lifted my hand and grabbed the knife that was in it, nearly screaming as I pulled it out of my palm. I clenched my teeth, my eyes closing tightly as pain rippled throughout my entire hand. When the knife was out, I tossed it far, so that Daffodil wouldn't be able to reach for it in time. My hand started healing itself, but it was much slower than usual. My eyes shifted to Daffodil.

Whether he was Morgan or Draco, she didn't want him in her life anymore. Morgan raised his hand to wipe away her tears; he just couldn't keep seeing her crying so hysterically and heartbroken. But when she saw his action, she flinched and backed away from him with her eyes filled with fear. His pupils shrank violently as he stared at her. ‘She was afraid of him. Did she think he would hurt her?’ He thought.