[It's been raining continuously for 35 hours here by now. My front and back yards are flooded, electricity is out and I've no idea when the inverter is going to shut down. And the internet is as fast as 2G. So, you know, it's been hell for a while. Oh well, atleast with people swimming down the roads, they can't tell me to go take classes at the college, so yayđ]
18th April 1993
Hogwarts Infirmary
"Well, this is quite the merry gathering,"barked Moody, limping into the infirmary."What's the occasion?"
The infirmary was lined with neat rows of hospital beds separated by white privacy screens.There was a faint medicinal scent in the air, courtesy of the cabinets filled with healing supplies â potions, bandages, medicinal salves and enchanted instruments. On any other day, the place would be filled with students suffering from broomstick accidents or other magical mishaps, however as the Easter Break was in effect, the place was quite devoid of its usual occupants. Instead, present in the room were Professor Dumbledore, Flitwick, Madam Pomfrey, myself and my mom.
"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?" enquired Professor Kettleburn, who arrived at nearly the same time as the ex-Auror.
"Yes, thank you both for coming so swiftly," Professor Dumbledore nodded. "The reason you are here is because Mr Carter believes that he might be able to help with your situation." He gestured to Moody's wooden leg and eyed Kettleburn's prosthetic arm and leg.
"How so?" Moody asked, while Kettleburn looked curiously at me.
"Psycho-reactive prosthetics," I answered. "I have noticed how both of you face difficulties in day-to-day life because of the limited capabilities of your prosthetic parts. For instance, Professor Moody struggles while climbing stairs and probably even experiences pain judging by his minute facial expressions," I said, much to the chagrin of the grumpy old fart, "while Professor Kettleburn has trouble casting spells because he can no longer use his dominant arm," the Care of Magical Creatures Professor gave me an amused shrug.
"So, being the dutiful student that I am," I smirked, "I set about trying to find an alternative to help you both. That led to research on various metals, their alloys and their conductivity towards magic, until finally I found the perfect fit." I produced a block of silver-grey metal with a slight bluish tint. "An alloy of silver, titanium and aluminium - strong, lightweight and with magic reactivity next only to pure gold. With some decent charmswork, it can be shaped into prosthetics that behave exactly like human limbs, only much more durable." I declared jubilantly.
I placed the block of metal on Madam Pomfrey's desk for their scrutiny. Professor Kettleburn came forward and eagerly picked it up, Dumbledore and Flitwick joining him in examining the alloy, while Moody's magical eye turned to stare at it out of the side of his head.
"How will these prosthetics work?" asked Moody in his usual gruff voice.
"First, we take a scan of your functional limb and create a diametrically opposite model for the prosthetic," I explained. "Then we shape the alloy in the required form, and finally we use magic to connect the newly made prosthetic to your mind, so that the limb functions based on your psychic commands with zero lag, just like your biological limb acts on your neural impulses."
"Then I am sorry to say, Benjamin that you have wasted your time," said Moody, his magical eye moving away from the metal ingot. "I lost my leg to a dark curse, boy. So, the magic you use to link my mind to this new leg will be disrupted and your state-of-the-art prosthetic will be no better than this piece of wood I have on me right now." He struck his staff at the bottom of its trousers producing a dull thud.
"As much as I hate to say it, Mr Carter," Professor Kettleburn smiled wryly, putting down the ingot, "I don't think these new prosthetics will be of much help to me as well. The creatures I lost my arm and leg to had venom that prevents any healing magic from working. It's the reason I am stuck with these mundane contraptions instead of some proper enchanted gear," he said, waving around his clunky metal arm.
"I'm well aware of that," I nodded. "Which is why the two of you will be really glad to hear what Madam Pomfrey has to say," I gestured to the hospital matron with both hands.
Madam Pomfrey came forward eagerly. Even though she tried to restrain it, her excitement was palpable.
"Gentlemen, as you are well aware, dark spells are classified as such because they leave behind residual malignant energy in the target's body that prevents healing magic - whether it be spells, potions or rituals from reversing the damage," she started. "Sometimes a custom-made spell can heal an injury to a certain degree, but even then the scars from the encounter remain." Here she gave a big smile. "Which is why, I am pleased to announce that Mr Carter has created a spell that can break down and dissolve these destructive energies, thereby allowing healing magic to do its work. We have already tested it, and it seems to work on both curse wounds as well as injuries from venomous creatures." she happily informed them.
"Truly?" exclaimed Professor Kettleburn with wide eyes.
Moody didn't say anything, but his magical eye kept turning from one person to another, as if waiting for someone to say "April fools". Dumbledore was looking at everyone with a happy smile, while Professor Flitwick kept excitedly asking for details from Madam Pomfrey.
"I am so proud of you, Ben," said mom, while hugging me. "How did you do it?"
"Well, to be honest I didn't really do anything," I admitted frankly. "I learnt it from, you know, another world."
"Ah, yes," she nodded in understanding. "Still, I am happy that you decided to share this spell with the rest of us. Magic usually makes it easy to fix injuries. However, we are mostly powerless when it comes to treating wounds caused by dark curses," she explained. "Thanks to this spell, healers all over the world will be able to save a lot of lives, especially of those in law enforcement."
"That's what I thought," I smiled.
"Are you sure you don't want the credit for this discovery?" she asked.
"Positive," I assured her. "I am quite comfortable with the amount of fame I have right now. Shine too bright and soon people will start having unrealistic expectations of you." I shook my head. "Besides, it will sound much more plausible that this spell was created by two certified healers, rather than a 13 year old schoolboy."
Soon we had the two handicapped professors lying on separate beds. Moody pulled up his trousers and gingerly took the fake leg off. Even though it's been over a decade since the curse took his leg, the wound still looked relatively fresh, with deep scars running across the stump. Such was the problem with dark curses, it was one of the few areas where Wizarding magic proved helpless. Not anymore, though.
"DISPEL"
Soft rays of white light emanated from the tip of my wand and congregated on the amputated stump of Moody's leg. Dispel was a light magic spell from the elemental section. Unlike most of the others in the category, it was a healing spell. I had only recently learnt it and after modifying it for wand users, decided to spread this much-needed spell through Madam Pomfrey and my mom, both of them being reputed healers in major institutions.
Moody winced as the spell did its work, the years old residue leaking out in the form of a black tar-like substance, which quickly turned to smoke and evaporated. It was over soon and the wound appeared to be less inflamed than before.
"Very good," Madam Pomfrey pronounced, checking Moody's leg along with my mom. "There is no lingering foreign energy in the body," she said waving her wand from Moody's head to toe. "Unfortunately, it has been such a long time since the injury was first sustained that regrowing the affected limb is no longer viable. A prosthetic is the only option."
"Yes, yes, we know," Moody growled impatiently. "Kindly get on with it. Not all of us enjoy being poked and prodded while being half naked in front of a dozen people."
Smirking slightly at the old man's grumbling, I took out three blocks of the as-of-yet unnamed alloy from my ring. I raised my wand and the silver-grey metal flowed through the air like liquid mercury. It coiled in the air, twisting according to the dimensions already measured, before solidifying into a gleaming life-like leg. I gently flicked my wand and the magical limb attached itself seamlessly to Moody's thigh.
"Magnificent," Professor Flitwick softly uttered, closely observing the shiny appendage while I used Runic Enchantment to lay down the necessary charms and Spirit Magic to link Moody's thoughts to his new leg.
"It's done," I declared, stepping away after the Runic sequences had been completed. The letters glowed brilliantly before seeping back into the metal and disappearing from view.
Moody stared at his new leg for a while, then with a grunt, he left the bed and slowly stood on his own two feet. Looking down he shifted slightly, feeling the unfamiliar weight.
"How's the fit?" I asked.
"Like a glove," he answered, then lifted the leg. "It's very light," he commented.
"That's because of the aluminium," I said. "Plus the thing's been inscribed with runes of lightness. The weight is barely more than a regular human leg's."
He nodded and took a tentative step. The prosthetic moved soundlessly, almost like a biological limb.
"I can move my toes!" he said in surprise, watching his lower digits respond to his thoughts. "And my feet!" he added, rotating his metal foot around the ankle joint. He then tested the knee joint, bending and unbending separal times, before taking a small jump. Finding no discomfort, he did several more. Finally he stopped, and just stared at it. "It's just like a real leg," he said with a dumbfounded look.
"Not yet," I disagreed. Coming forward, I pressed a rune on the leg. A ripple passed through the metallic surface, the texture morphing into that of pale white skin. Moody stood there with two legs, one indistinguishable from the other. "Now, it's just like a real leg," I smiled.
After that, I outfitted Professor Kettleburn with a new arm and leg, while mom, Madam Pomfrey and Professor Flitwick ran tests on Moody. The leftover venom in Professor Kettleburn's system behaved in the same manner as the residual gunk in Mad-eye's wound. Soon, the Care of Magical Creatures professor was walking about the room looking whole once again.
"Thank you, Benjamin," Moody said in an unusually soft manner. The others had already left and Madam Pomfrey retreated to her office, leaving only Moody, Kettleburn and me in the infirmary. "I don't like to admit it, but that gimpy old leg made it a hassle to climb the stairs. And Merlin knows how many there are in this drafty old castle," he grumbled. "How do I thank you for it?"
"You don't have to," I shook my head. "I did it because I wanted to help you, not because I was expecting some kind of reward."
"I know that, lad," Moody let out a chuckle. "But I don't like owing anybody, and I certainly owe you. So, what can I do for you?" he asked again.
"Same goes for me," Professor Kettleburn said in a cheerful voice. "How can I show my gratitude for this wonderful gift, Mr Carter?" he asked with a smile.
"I heard you were going to leave Hogwarts after this school year, Professor?" I said.
"Oh, yes well," he mumbled, looking a tad embarrassed. "To tell the truth, it had been getting a bit difficult to control some of the more exciting creatures in class lately, so I was thinking about taking an early retirement," he confessed. "But now with these..." he smiled, flexing his new arm and leg, "I think I might be able to continue for a few more years. Thank you for that."
I waved it off. As sorry as I was to hear that Hagrid would not be getting the opportunity to teach at Hogwarts anytime soon, I was also relieved. Hagrid's passion and knowledge about magical creatures can't be denied, but neither can the man's propensity for bringing dangerous creatures into beginner-level classes. A good CoMC teacher should start off with benign yet interesting animals such as bowtruckles, nifflers and crups, not with bloody XXX level creatures like hippogriffs that can tear students apart with a single swipe of their razor-sharp claws.
"Well, you know how I disappeared for a week a couple months back?" I said after a while. The professors nodded, having noticed my conspicuous absence like the rest of the castle. "I am going to have to make another trip soon, only this time it will be much longer, several months at least. I will come back before the end-of-the-year exams, but I will miss most of the next school year," I informed them. "While I am away, could you keep an eye out for my sister and my friends? See that they don't get into too much trouble?"
"Of course," Professor Kettleburn agreed happily.
"Aye, I can do that," nodded Moody, clasping my shoulder. "Thanks again, lad, and good luck."
/////////////////////////////////////
23rd April 1993
Arcane Club
"Hello everyone. Please come in," I cheerfully welcomed the large assortment of witches and wizards into the club. It included Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall, Moody, Flitwick and Snape, as well as my parents along with Sirius and Remus. On my side, were all my friends and my sister.
"Benjamin," nodded Dumbledore. "Is everything ready?" he asked eagerly.
I gave him a brisk nod and led everyone to my workshop, which had been extensively modified for this occasion.
The room was lit by torches ensconced in the stone walls. Every inch of the chamber - walls, floor and vaulted ceiling - was engraved with tightly woven runes pulsing faintly with a pale, silvery light. At the centre of the room was a broad, circular dias formed from a single slab of black stone, with a large pentagram formed from gleaming silver inlaid on its surface. Encircling the platform were four stone spires, each about seven feet tall and carved with vertical spirals of runes that climbed their lengths like ivy.
After everyone was done taking in the ambience of the room, I addressed them. "As you all know by now, Voldemort a.k.a Tom riddle is still alive. He was able to cheat death by creating horcruxes. He made six of them in total. Once they are all gone, he can finally be finished for good," I said.
"Dumbledore and I have already taken care of two of his soul anchors. The others, however are much more precious. So we have decided to remove the bits of Tom's soul without damaging them. I have designed this chamber for that express purpose," I explained. "Now, ladies and gentlemen, if you could kindly step back a little, we can get this show on the road."
Everyone obediently walked back a few steps and lined up against the walls. I looked at Dumbledore. Receiving a solemn nod in return, I retrieved the locket from my storage ring. As I approached, the pentagram etched on the black stone dias shimmered with ghostly light, as if stirred by the locket's presence. The moment the locket touched the stone, a sharp hiss filled the room, like steam escaping from a wound.
The stone spires surrounding the dias flared to life, the runes drawn along their length igniting one by one with silver blue fire. The pulsing of the chamber quickened as the locket began to rattle, trembling violently as if trying to flee.
Dark tendrils of smoke began to seep out from the seams of the horcrux, writhing like snakes, coalescing into half-formed faces - sneering, screaming, whispering. In response, the runes on the walls, on the ceiling, on the very stone beneath our feet glowed fiercely, their light intensifying until the chamber blazed like starlight trapped underground.
The locket screamed - a long, high-pitched, unearthly wail - as the black smoke thickened into something corporeal. At once the four spires sent rays of white light that struck the dark phantom from all sides in a flash so brilliant that it lit up the entire room, and then -
Silence.
The locket lay still upon the dias. I went forward and picked it up, no more whispers to be heard from it, no more malice to be felt from it. The room seemed to decide that the job was done and the runes dimmed, returning to their quiet pulse for now. I let out a breath I hadn't realised I was holding and heard similar relieved sighs across the chamber.
"One down, three to go," I intoned.
The locket was quickly followed by the cup, which Dumbledore had recently extricated from Gringotts, after many, many long meetings with the goblins. The diadem, which I had acquired from the Room of Lost Things a few months ago, came next. As the dark apparation disappeared in a cascade of light, all of us turned to Harry, who nodded resolutely.
Two days ago, Dumbledore had come clean and told Harry everything. Okay, he may have omitted the part about Snape being the one to inform Voldemort about the prophecy, but he told him everything else. When Dumbledore said that a portion of Voldemort's soul had latched onto Harry that night turning him into an unwilling horcrux, it was as if a bomb went off in the room. There were shouts of disbelief, screams of dismay and looks of soul rending sadness directed towards Harry.
The boy himself sat shell-shocked, looking blankly at the old man who had effectively pronounced his death sentence. That is, until I told everyone that I had a way to remove the peice of Voldemort's soul from Harry without hurting him. After confirming my words, Sirius hugged me so tightly I was afraid he was going to cut off my air circulation. And thus, the mournful atmosphere had turned into a celebratory one.
Harry walked determinedly to the center of the room and laid down on the stone dias. Frankly, if it had been just the locket, cup and the diadem, I would've simply used Soul Purge and be done with it. But using that spell on Harry might damage his soul, if not permanently rip it out of his body. Hence why I had to create this specialised surgical suite to gently and carefully pull out the poisoned shrapnel from Harry soul.
With his permission, I stunned Harry to prevent unnecessary pain on his part. Soon the chamber was lit aglow by the bright light of the purification runes. Out of Harry's trembling form, rose the parasite that had been feeding on him for years. Perhaps because its creation wasn't by design, this piece of Voldemort looked smaller yet more twisted than the others. Just like the ones before it, it was unwillingly pulled out of its host's body and was promptly removed from this earthly plane of existence.
"How did it go?" was the first thing Harry asked when he groggily came to. Unfortunately, that was the only thing he could say before he found himself buried in an avalanche of people. Sirius, Remus, Neville, Hermione and surprisingly even the usually too shy Ginny was there hugging and congratulating him, while everyone else looked on with happy smiles. Even Snape looked relieved at seeing Lily's son making it out of this death-defying trial alive.
"In case all this didn't clue you in," I said, gesturing to the happy faces of everyone around him, "it went really well," I smiled.
Harry gave a relieved sigh, before a smile broke out on his face. "Good," he said. "Just one last thing to do, then."
"Yeah," I nodded.
///////////////////////////////////////
1 month since departure
Sunspear
"The three witches and the knight set off down the hill together, arm in arm, and all four led long and happy lives, and none of them ever knew or suspected that the fountain's waters carried no enchantment at all."
"Yay!" Rhaenys clapped with a beautiful smile as her mother finished telling her another story from her favourite book.
"Yay, indeed," Elia smiled at her daughter's exuberance. "Now, as promised you must go to sleep." Elia rose from the armchair, closing the book and carefully placing it on the shelf. "Good night, my darling," she pressed a soft kiss on her daughter's forehead.
"Good night, mama," smiled Rhaenys, laying her head on her phoenix pillow and closing her eyes.
Elia moved to check on her son. He was already fast asleep, unlike the first few days of Ben's departure when he made a fuss because the wizard was no longer there to entertain him with his light shows. She lightly ran her fingers through his now brown hair that would act as another layer of protection for her child. Casting one final glance at her daughter she walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
"That was a wonderful story, my lady," said her companion.
"Thank you, Ashara," she said to one of the most beautiful women in the seven kingdoms and her friend. "How are you feeling today?"
Elia had arrived at Starfall along with Ser Arthur Dayne to meet her old friend before returning to Sunspear. To her great surprise, she could hardly connect the Ashara she saw to the bright, charming girl she knew only a year ago. Ashara looked like a ghost, with sunken cheeks and pallid lips. Turns out, the reason for this astonishing transformation was the news of Brandon's fate. Apparently, Ashara had a dalliance with the Stark heir at the tourney of Harrenhal. She wanted to end things there, knowing that he was promised to another. But Brandon confessed that he loved her and wished to take her as his wife after breaking his betrothal to the Tullys. And so their affair had continued with the lovers exchanging letters every so often.
The news of what happened to Brandon at King's Landing was a massive shock to Ashara. Worse still, was the fact that Brandon came down from Riverrun, where he had arrived from Winterfell with a wedding party to marry Catelyn Tully. Brandon's betrayal cut Ashara deep, and the poor woman retreated within herself. Then she heard about the supposed ill fate of her friend Elia and her sweet children.
All these torturous blows of fate almost proved too much for the unfortunate woman. Indeed, as Elia held the poor woman in her arms crying in sadness and relief, she wondered what Ashara's fate might've been if Ben hadn't been there to save her or prevent a much more unlucky ending for Ser Arthur.
"Thank you for your concern, my lady," Ashara managed a light smile. "I am doing much better now, thanks to you and the little princess."
"I am glad to hear that," said Elia, "and I have told you to call me by my name," she reminded her.
"Of course, Delia," smiled Ashara, calling her by the agreed upon name. "What about the little princess?"
"She wants to be called Rae, but it might be a little too much on the nose," admitted Elia. "So we have decided to call her Rhea for now."
"I see," nodded Ashara. "And the little prince?"
Elia smiled. Ben was right, deep down she wanted her son to one day claim his birthright and become King of the seven kingdoms. At that thought, another exiled prince came into her mind - one of a disgraced bloodline, raised by wise men, one who wore the mantle of leadership not because he wanted to, but because the world needed him to, and was above all, a good man.
"Aragorn," she smiled. "We shall call him Aragorn."