Repairing something was always far harder than destroying it. Putting Dumbledore back together after he had been scattered all over the place was no easy task. After Brian explained things to Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout, and several other professors who had suffered a fright,
and traded a piece of easy-to-chew rabbit meat to a ravenous carnivorous plant for the thigh of Dumbledore's that it was trying to digest, the scattered pieces of Dumbledore finally had a chance to be bound back into a whole person with specially made spatial damage repair tape.
"I'm ready, Poppy," Dumbledore's head said cheerfully. "Ah, right, if possible,
I'd also like to trouble you to make a few adjustments to my thigh during the repairs-my left leg spent too long soaking in digestive juices. It's rather swollen."
"Leave it to me, Albus." Madam Pomfrey put on her gloves, her expression as serious as any medical professional's. "I guarantee that once your left and right legs are reattached, they'll be just as nimble and handy as before. The only harm those insect-attracting digestive juices did to you was dissolve your leg hair."
Specialist work was best left to specialists. Madam Pomfrey and several assistant Healers had long been itching to get started-since spatial damage was relatively rare at Hogwarts, she considered this an excellent learning opportunity. Having the Headmaster of Hogwarts sacrifice a little dignity would do no harm.
Dumbledore had no objection whatsoever. He even worked hard to make OK signs with both his severed hands, demonstrating his commitment to medical progress-that said, Brian was more inclined to think Dumbledore had simply done it out of curiosity about what making an OK sign in such a peculiar state would feel like, just like those students who had accidents in Apparition Class. Clearly, the good news