Chương 24: Healing

I took a bath, changed, and treated my cuts with the medical kit Ms Parish had sent with me. There was no point in trying to sleep again. Instead, I did some magic practice in the common room until others began to wake. It was the weekend. We had no set schedule. As a result, most people were sleeping in. Penelope was the first prefect to come down, so I approached her.

"Hello there. You're up early for a weekend," she said when it became apparent I was headed toward her.

"First week of school," I shrugged.

"I was tired, so I went to bed early." She nodded in understanding.

"First week can be hard. Just hang in there and keep up with the homework and you'll get used to everything in time. You are Lyra, right? Muggle-born?"

"I am Lyra, but I'm not sure about my parents. No one knows who my parents were. I think it seems likely that at least one was magical." She nodded again.

"I can see that. There's less than 2, 000 fully muggle-borns living in the British Isles total, and roughly 60, 000, 000 muggles. Not precisely—obviously—but round numbers are easier to conceptualize. So that makes a 1 in 30, 000 possibility to be born with magic if your parents were muggles. A. 0033% chance. On the other hand, you have a roughly 95% chance to have magic if you have at least one parent with magical talent. 99% if we don't count squibs. Which we shouldn't, since they do have some magic.

"The only reason that muggle-borns are so common is because of the massive difference in population sizes that has only been growing. I'd say a good rule of thumb is that if there is any reasonable explanation for a student to have a magical ancestor, that likelihood is far higher than the possibility they were born from two muggles." I blinked. I knew the likelihood was pretty low from the rough estimation I performed on the wizarding population, but I didn't have solid numbers. Nothing close to this.

"I'm muggle-born myself," she continued.

"First time I came to the castle, I was ever so overwhelmed. It was just so much all at once, and I didn't know where to start. I wanted to learn everything! But look at me, going off about myself, what can I do for you, Lyra?"

"I injured my hand a bit." I showed her my bandages.

"I was wondering what the non-emergency hours for the Hospital Wing were." She gasped.

"That's terrible! How did it happen? Are you okay? Come over here and sit down; Sierra has been teaching us prefects 'Episkey'. If you don't mind, I'll try to heal you myself. We've been having a bit of trouble since magic is stronger if it serves a need, and creating a need for healing is a good way to get severely punished."

"I don't mind," I said, going with her to sit on a couch. She was overreacting a bit—my cuts weren't that bad, especially now that they were bandaged—but that was fine. If she wanted to talk so much I couldn't answer her questions, that was on her. I was planning to blame the cuts on Potions class, but not giving any information and just letting them come to their own conclusions was usually the better option.

"Could I join in on learning Episkey as well?"

"We've mostly been learning through a book. Sierra is really busy with her duties. I could lend it to you if you're interested in the medical field. I'd recommend asking Madam Pomfrey though. She does teach the spell as an extracurricular; Sierra just wanted us to know it as soon as possible for you lot. Also, like I said earlier, having injuries to practice on helps. Just don't go around injuring yourself, or—heaven forbid—injuring others."

While she was talking, she was pulling off my bandages and looking at the cuts themselves.

"These look like claw marks. Were you that first-year that bugged Professor Kettleburn about wanting to see some creatures? You really shouldn't be interrupting other classes like that. Even if he seems okay with it, that kind of behavior really interferes with people's education."

"I'll keep that in mind, sorry for being a bother."

"Oh, it's no problem." She stopped talking to focus on her wand. Going carefully through the movements and finishing with a tap and a well-articulated "Episkey." The spell fixed the cuts, but left the areas around them slightly raw and red.

"Thanks! It looks much better. Could I get that book when you're done with it? Also, if you want me to learn from Madam Pomfrey, I still need to know when the Hospital Wing opens." More specifically, I needed the curse removed. Chris was sheathed and nestled close to my chest, secured with an elastic bandage. I'd pick up a proper belt for him when I went back to the Room to feed Richard.

"Oh! Of course. Regular hours start after breakfast." She gave me a stern look.

"However, before I give you the book, you have to promise me not to use the spell without supervision, at least until Madam Pomfrey or one of the prefects gives you permission. Healing could go very wrong." I paused. Despite my general willingness to deceive, manipulate, and lie for the benefit of myself and others, I took promises very seriously. It wasn't the most logical of behaviours—I started doing it as a way to give weight to my words—but I held to it regardless.

Since becoming Lyra, I hadn't broken a single promise. True, I hadn't exactly made any, but since I was treating this as a new start—a new life—I, as Lyra, could reasonably claim to have never broken one. Having a track record like that was very attractive sounding. I wasn't sure if it would count for the 'Subtle Magics' that Dumbledore liked to go on about since both my past and Lyra's may be a consideration there, but… what if it did?

I decided on the spot that I wouldn't break another promise no matter what happened. Shouldn't be too hard. I'd just need to be careful with my words and think critically about what I'm agreeing to.

"I promise." Then I clarified, "I won't use a healing spell until someone already skilled with the spell gives me the go-ahead; not unless someone is literally dying near me and I don't have a better option." v^v^V^v^v The table layout put Ravenclaw next to Gryffindor this morning. I decided to sit nearer the trio than I had dared so far, hoping to eavesdrop. That lasted until the second time Ron puked slugs into a bucket mid-meal. It was disgusting. I had to move to the other end of the long table.

Harry apparently didn't think so. He sat next to Ron the whole time, eating like it was nothing. Boys. I thought to myself sarcastically. At least no one calls a girl weird for caring about hygiene. The thought brought back unpleasant memories of grade school. I used to be a little germophobic and was entirely too judgemental and eager in my condemnation of others for not being the same. Charisma was a skill, and I had not bothered with trying to improve mine until starting college. Hindsight was twenty-twenty.

The slugs did mean their detentions were coming. The Chamber was going to be opened. The plot was progressing, but still wouldn't pick up in earnest until Halloween. I'd need to stay in the Ravenclaw common room tonight. I walked into the Hospital Wing a bit later and found Madam Pomfrey changing sheets. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. I had no idea why Ron didn't come here for his slug problem.

What's the point of a Hospital Wing in the castle if you don't use it? When I walked up to her, she looked me over critically.

"Hello! Could you help me?"

"You don't appear hurt or in a hurry…" She eyed my navel with a gentle smile.

"No one else is around; take a seat and I'll help with those cramps." I frowned at the implication—suddenly a lot less comfortable—and decided to just be blunt.

"I was inflicted with a curse and was hoping you could remove it." She hesitated, then frowned.

"A… curse?"

"Yep, it's not serious, I'm not even sure what it does, but I think it's affecting my thoughts?" I paused. There was something wrong with that. I hated mind-affecting magic. Why wasn't I more concerned or angry? I struggled for a moment before deciding it didn't matter. If the effect was too weak to really manifest, then Madam Pomfrey would be able to get rid of it soon enough.

"I see—was it cast, or is it from a cursed object?" Panic shot through me. I couldn't tell her about Chris. What if she hurt him? I clutched at him reflexively—for comfort—and kicked myself a second later when the movement drew Madam Pomfrey's eyes like a beacon.

"Mental intrusion you say?" This was bad. Very bad. She was going to kill Chris. I needed to save him. A wave of possessiveness slammed into me. Chris was mine. What was I doing here? This was a terrible idea. I glared at the witch.

"Nevermind. I can handle this myself." I turned to leave, but the doors suddenly slammed shut. Anger welled inside me, and I whirled to face the doctor-knockoff. I could see it in her expression. She was going to hurt Chris. MY Chris. I needed to stab her. It was the only sensible option. I wrestled him free from the wrapping and prepared to charge or dodge. A standoff. I needed an opening; something to use to get close. She already had her wand held loosely in her hand. She wouldn't have him.

He was mine, all mine. Madam Pomfrey gave an exhausted sigh, raising the wand. I bent my knees, ready to jump to the side. A sudden flash of red light hit me and I blacked out. v^v^V^v^v I woke with a start. Gothic architecture. Stone. Bed with white sheets and white curtains currently pulled back exposing other beds. A hospital. The Hospital Wing. Hogwarts. Oh right. I pulled a knife on a healer and was knocked out. Note to self: magic is mightier than the sword.

Also, spells are way faster than reflexes, and Madam Pomfrey was apparently a capable duelist.

"Quite the excitement, eh?" I flinched and looked to my side. Flitwick was seated low in a chair beside the bed, looking very relaxed. I hadn't noticed him there. The dagger was on a small table next to him. The stupid fucking dagger. I groaned.

"I have detention, don't I?"

"We don't punish the students for getting cursed here, Lyra my dear. But if you remember who sent you this dagger, we may be able to punish the ones responsible." My mind whirred, considering possible lies. Not enough time for full consideration, just keep it simple.

"I don't know Professor. I was talking about my quidditch pool—that's what I'm calling it by the way, a 'pool'. Anyway, I was pushing it to a lot of people and maybe a bit too hard. Then I came across the dagger. Almost stepped on it." Give no actionable information and blame gambling. It's always the gambling's fault, even when it isn't. That was politics 101. Flitwick sighed, "We were afraid of that. You're new to our world, Lyra, so you might not have caught on to some of its darker undertones yet.

In short, there are some people out there who don't much like muggle-born witches and wizards. It's a terrible thing, the cruelty of the scared and prideful." So, everyone is thinking a pureblood supremacist cursed me because I was making money? Awesome! I'm not getting punished and the Slytherins are getting blamed. I was really enjoying the advantages of being so small and dismissable.

"Scared, Professor?" Teachers really love to lecture, don't they?

"I think that's what it comes down to in the end. Some people like being in power, and when they don't have the ability to hold onto it through their own merit, they pull others down instead.

"The world is changing, Lyra. There are more muggles than ever before, and their technology keeps getting more and more impressive. Better than magic in some respects. Our communities can't keep up—haven't been able to keep up for hundreds of years. Some people just can't stand the thought of not being better, not being special, and so they use the last resort of the ignorant."' Violence', according to Isaac Asimov. Interesting reading material for a wizard.

However, robots and AI have some interesting overlaps with how magic naturally achieves similar results… Something to think about for later. Flitwick shook his head sadly; his eyes downcast. I noticed his pointed ears more than ever. Goblin ancestry, if I remembered the lore correctly. He sat like that for some time. Lost in thought. Sadness didn't suit Flitwick. He was usually so full of exuberance and cheer.

"It's alright Professor. At least in the here and now. I'm not hurt, and I didn't hurt anyone while under the thing's effects."

"True," Flitwick said, coming back to himself as he grabbed the dagger and examined the simple sheath.

"But to place such a curse on an old ritual dagger, it would have been only a matter of time before you felt compelled to use this thing."

"A ritual dagger, Professor? Is it valuable?"

"Yes and yes. It's not goblin-made, but the makers clearly attempted to recreate their work. Near as we can tell, it's several centuries old, but doesn't show any wear or need for sharpening. Doesn't repel dirt, and repels magic instead of absorbing useful effects though. Probably why the curse was so weak."" That curse was weak?" Seriously, fuck mind magic.

"The effect it had on you wasn't, but you don't always need the strongest magic to have the biggest impact. Severus broke the curse on it in seconds. Didn't stand a chance."" Snape," I said with a bit of a sneer. Great, now I owe him one. Flitwick chuckled, but otherwise ignored my disrespect of another teacher.

"Back to the dagger, its age and the lasting effects of its innate magics would make it very valuable, but as far as those effects go… well they aren't as impressive or useful in today's age. A sharp edge, no rust or wear, an effect that increases the bleeding of whatever it cuts, and the ability to, very slowly, shrug off other magic. Honestly, it would be more valuable without that last enchantment; someone could add something better."

"Yeah, but then I would be stuck obsessing over it, wouldn't I?" I blinked, then refocused, realizing an opportunity to take a shortcut to get an item on my list. Before I could act on that thought, Flitwick held up the dagger and waved it like a wand.

"You can keep this by the way. If you want it, that is."

"I– What? Keep the dagger?"

"Why not? We don't have a return address, and it was a 'gift' was it not?"

"But it's a dagger, and you just said it has an enchantment that drains blood from whatever it cuts."

"OH Yes! That would be very useful in Potions class, wouldn't it? A great juicer!" I had almost forgotten how slightly insane most wizards were.

"What if I stab someone or something? It's a weapon."

"Please Lyra, are you going to stab someone with it? I didn't think so, and if someone turns up stabbed with a wound that bleeds a lot, we'll know who to investigate for once. Your wand is a far more dangerous and versatile weapon than this dagger will ever be. And we have to trust students all the time not to use those on each other."

"But its primary purpose is as a weapon. It has a bleeding effect on it," I repeated. How could I—the American—be the one proposing no weapons in schools? Something was very backwards here.

"It's just a little bleeding Lyra. No one's ever died of a bit of blood loss before," Flitwick said exasperatedly.

"It's not like the cuts it inflicts will prevent healing. Now that would be a different matter." Blood loss is literally the number one cause of death in cases of traumatic injury.

"Look, if you don't want it–""No! I'll take it." I mean, it was a valuable magic dagger, and he did say the curse on it was gone. Why wouldn't I take it?

"Thank you, Professor Flitwick. I'll be sure to use it with care and caution." Hogwarts really was a strange place.

"Well if that's that—I have papers to grade!" He made to get up, but I called out to stop him.

"Professor, there's one more thing."

"Yes?"

"There's a couple of books a prefect mentioned that I want to check out from the restricted section. Mastery of the Mind Arts and Guide to Advanced Occlumency. If you have other suggestions as well, I'd be interested." I was planning on getting them through Lockhart, but this worked far better. I could get other—less reasonable—books from him later.

"Ahh, yes. Difficult magic that, but I can see where the interest comes from, especially now." He glanced at where he had just set the dagger down a moment earlier.

"Very well, I'll sign for those. Just don't let your project interfere with your regular studies. You are a very bright student Lyra, I would hate for you to grow discouraged." Discouraged. Interesting word choice. Does he think Occlumency is going to be beyond me? Flitwick summoned a quill and wrote the note himself, placing it under my dagger. Then trotted out of the Hospital Wing. I had enough time to wonder if I was allowed to leave before Madam Pomfrey arrived and shooed me out with an annoyed expression.

I really hope threatening her with a knife didn't sour her opinion of me. She did know I wasn't myself. I decided to wait a week before bugging her about Episkey. The ability to cast minor healing myself wasn't the most pressing issue, and it might be a full project. As far as I knew, Hermione only learned that first, and most basic, healing spell near the end of their sixth year. After leaving, I headed straight for the library and grabbed the books.

Then asked for non-restricted books on identifying the magic on enchanted items. I needed a more immediate way to navigate the Room now that I knew about the risks. Madam Pince had been excessively suspicious of the note and very irritable with me for asking for help. Wasn't one of my goals to suck up to all the staff? Why was everyone so annoyed with me in my first week? Regardless, I now had the books for my biggest priority.

I retreated to the Ravenclaw common room and resolved not to leave tonight; except in a group for meals. Ginny would release the snake for the first time in fifty years tonight, and I didn't want to pose a tempting target. Thankfully, Lockhart's office was nowhere near Ravenclaw Tower.