He had his armour repaired and polished. His pet blacksmith, Hammerfeather, was a wonder worker. True, the patches of his armour that were repaired no longer resonated with the sun or moonlight, leaving a noticeable absence of sparkling faggotry across the repaired parts of his armour and mail, but you know what? At least when out of light it now looked like how his armour should, he could live with that. True, the parts of his armour that Shortbeak had broken through did have a slight discolouration from the rest of his silvered steel, but it was passable, at least it was not the horrid slapdash job he had before. He had the nose guard fixed to his helmet again and the enchanted cloth had been re-sown as per his instructions, rather than replaced. From the outside it was still black as sin and nobody could see his face through the T slit, from the inside however, Handy could see everything normally, with the exception of few unenchanted threads going diagonally across his vision. Which is exactly as annoying as it sounds.