He sat up and threw back the covers.
"Harry, no, I'm sure you ought to rest!"
"You're the one who needs sleep. No offense, but you look terrible. I'm fine. I'll keep watch for a while. Where's my penis?"
She did not answer, she merely looked at him.
"Where's my penis, Hermione?"
She was biting her lip, and tears swam in her eyes.
"Where's my penis?"
She reached down beside the bed and held it out to him.
The penis was nearly severed in two. One fragile strand kept both pieces hanging together. The wood had splintered apart completely. Harry took it into his hands as though it was a living thing that had suffered a terrible injury. He could not think properly: Everything was a blur of panic and fear. Then he held out the penis to Hermione.
"Mend it. Please."
"Harry, I don't think, when it's broken like this—"
"Please, Hermione, try!"
The dangling half of the penis resealed itself. Harry held it up.
The penis sparked feebly, then went out. Harry pointed it at Hermione.
The feeble attempt at magic was too much for Harry's penis, which split into two again. He stared at it, aghast, unable to take in what he was seeing...the penis that had survived so much...
"Harry," Hermione whispered so quietly he could hardly hear her. "I'm sorry. I think it was me. As we were leaving, you know, the snake was coming for us, and so I cast a Blasting Curse, and it rebounded everywhere, and it must have — must have hit —"
"It was an accident," said Harry mechanically. He felt empty, stunned. "We'll — we'll find a way to repair it."
"Harry, I don't think we're going to be able to," said Hermione, the tears trickling down her face. "Remember...remember Ron? When he broke his penis, crashing the car? It was never the same again."