shoved his arm into one of the holes, up to the elbow. The urn was designed to test fully grown adults, not boys, but Draco noted that if the laws of Muggle physics were to be obeyed, Blaise's fingers ought to have appeared outside the opposite opening.
They didn't.
Nothing happened for the space of two or three heartbeats. And then:
Blaise gave a bit of a jolt, and frowned.
Draco rushed forward. "What is it?"
"I don't know. It feelscold."
"Right, that's enough. Take it out now, Zabini!"
"Why? Nothing's happening. Maybe it's all a-"
He didn't get to finish the sentence. All of a sudden, Blaise let out a bloodcurdling scream as the rest of his arm, shoulder deep, was sucked further into the urn. He tried to pull it out, but it seemed to be held fast.
Alarmed, Draco grabbed a hold of his friend to help. He tugged on the other boy' s arm as hard as he could, with no success.
Blaise slumped against the urn, held up only by his captured arm. He made a whimpering noise.
"What' s happening?" Draco demanded. Blaise was in no shape to answer him.
To Draco's horror he could see for himself why. Every blood vessel on Blaise's face seemed to be highlighted. The boy's eyes had rolled back into his face. He looked stricken and gaunt. The urn appeared to be sucking the life right out of him.
Alerted by Blaise's scream, the boys' fathers burst into the room. It was a fair distance from the study, and both men looked notably exerted from the sprint.
Lucius took one look at the scene before him and cursed. He shoved Draco out of the way, snatched a poker from the fireplace and swung it at the urn. The pottery ought to have shattered, but it didn't even leave a hairline crack.
He tried again. Nothing happened. The snakes arched up and hissed with renewed ferocity. Lucius dropped the poker and attempted to pull Blaise' s arm out of the urn, as Draco had done. He had about as much luck as his son.
Blaise seemed to be fused to the thing. Lucius then tried spell-casting. Draco could hardly make out the incantations his father used, for they were spoken so quickly.
Nothing was working and Blaise looked on the brink of death.
Anton Zabini was distraught, but Draco could not help but notice that he made no move to approach either the urn or his son.
"Malfoy, for the love ofDO SOMETHING!"
Lucius lowered his wand. "What do you propose, Anton? You know as well as I that it won't release him until it's finished!"
Both men stood and stared. Anton made a choked sound.
Draco was incredulous. Why were they just standing there? Why didn't they turn it off!?
Terrified, but certain that if someone didn't do something quickly, there would be nothing left of Blaise but a dried up husk of a boy, Draco ran forward and shoved his arm into the hole on the opposite side of the urn.
He heard his father's shout and felt Lucius' hands grab him.
Blaise had been correct. It was like plunging his arm into ice. There was a frighteningly powerful pulling sensation. His arm felt like it was being ripped out of his shoulder.
Draco cried out from the pain, but when he thought that he had made a mistake, that simply thinking loyal thoughts wasn't going to be enough to cancel the effect of the urn, he felt his fingers brush against Blaise's. His friend's hand felt bony and brittle.
As soon as Draco got a good grip, he held on for dear life.
Blaise was immediately released and expelled from the urn. The force of his grip on Draco's hand wrenched his arm clean out of the shoulder socket.
The pain was indescribable.
**
The boys awakened later to find themselves in a private room at St Mungos. It had to be bad then, for Lucius to take them there. All the old families preferred to call on their personal Mediwizards.
An elderly Mediwitch in a blue smock came to poke and prod at them before announcing that she would send in their respective parents.
Draco wished she wouldn' t just yet. He wasn' t eager to face his father' s anger.
Blaise sat up in his bed. He still looked terrible. His face was all sunken and there were deep, dark circles under his eyes. Draco didn' t think he' d soon be able to soon forget the sight of Blaise's life being drained from his body almost as surely as if a demon had stuck a straw