The Mysterious Wizard
A/N
Here is the next instalment for you all.
Just a quick couple of points before we dive in.
Thank you to those of you that have pointed out the person reposting 'Honour Thy Blood' on webnovel. Others and I have been trying to get it taken down for weeks, to no avail. I will get the last laugh on that, I'm sure.
Secondly, and on a much brighter note, I will be launching my own website in the coming days to coincide with all my current and future efforts as a writer/podcast host. When it goes live, the link will be on my profile page here.
I will be posting my fanfiction works and this story will be uploaded there also. It will be a chapter or two ahead over there. If you do wish to read ahead, then pop along to my discord server where I will post links and passwords for the early access chapters there. (Discord link is on my profile page).
Alternatively, you can support my journey as a creator, (Details also on my profile) as I continue on my journey. Of course, all support is greatly appreciated.
This story will continue to be updated here every Sunday, of course.
TBR
This chapter is dedicated to all of my patrons and wonderful podcast guests, whom without, none of this would be possible. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart x
July 4th,1975
She had been told not to enter the room he was being kept in but rather to observe him from an adjoining one. His magic had been flaring, and already, two healers had been injured whilst trying to ascertain what was wrong with him. As such, none could be certain of his ailment.
It was not a common occurrence that a person like this would arrive; a mystery man who could not be identified, let alone one in his condition. He had caused quite the stir amongst the other healers. Even the most experienced were intrigued by him, though none would dare approach.
From time to time, they would come into the observation room, stare at him for several moments as though he were an attraction in a show and take their leave.
She, however, was to remain and keep watch. When he woke, however, a senior healer would take over and then the aurors would undoubtedly wish to speak with him.
According to the reports, he had been found floating face down on the River Thames with an odd raven perched on his back. Even as a wizard, he should be dead. The fact that he lived was a miracle.
What was stranger still was that even when his magic had not been so erratic, nothing could be gleamed of him. They could not even remove either of the wands from his holsters to do so and the Lord's ring he wore was also obscured by a strange magic.
She had never seen anything like it, but as a trainee, had been given the mundane task of watching over him.
She wrote another note as his magic flared once more, and even though it was becoming less frequent, it was no less frightening. The room he was in was designed to contain such things, but even from her vantage point she could feel the coldness of it.
"How is he doing?" Healer Camden asked.
She liked the woman. She was a no-nonsense sort, but one who cared deeply for those under her care and a woman that commanded respect. She had first met her when she was eight and had been brought here by her Aunt Dorea. Since then, she had wanted to be a healer herself, and though it was not as glamorous as she had been led to believe, there was something rather satisfying about the job.
"There's no change," she replied. "He's still flaring but he's not getting worse."
Healer Camden nodded.
"Good. He does seem to be getting some colour to him so I am hopeful he will wake soon. Maybe then we can get to the bottom of just who he is and what the hell happened to him."
"And then I won't be spending my whole life in here," Narcissa returned.
"We all have to pay our dues, Black," Camden sighed. "When you finish your training, you'll get to see some other poor fool doing what you do now. Anyway, shouldn't you be heading off?"
Narcissa frowned as she checked her watch. There was a family dinner being held tonight to celebrate Bella's engagement to Rudolphus. The occasion would be bittersweet, but such a big deal was being made because of it. Had Andi not run off with the mudblood…
"Bugger," she groaned, not wanting to think of her wayward sister.
She was already late, and her grandfather did not take such a thing lightly. She handed her clipboard and quill to her colleague and left the room. She would not run, but her pace was quicker than it would normally be. Entering the locker room, she changed, discarding her unsoiled robes into the wash basket as she left the cubicle and the hospital a moment later.
Checking there were no muggles around to see her, she apparated away to Grimmauld Place where the gathering was being held.
She took in her appearance in the hall and straightened her tousled hair with a wave of her wand. It would not do to arrive dishevelled.
"I'm sorry I'm late, Grandfather," she said apologetically as she entered the dining room.
"So you should be," her father growled irritably from his place opposite her Uncle Orion.
"Shut up, Cygnus," Arcturus demanded before smiling as he turned to her. "Do not worry, Narcissa, we haven't even served the starter yet."
She returned the gesture gratefully and took her seat next to her Cousin Sirius, who shifted uncomfortably.
"How was your day at the hospital?" her grandfather asked interestedly.
"She cleans up piss and shit for a living, how do you think her day was?" her father grumbled.
Arcturus took a deep calming breath as he turned once more to his son.
"You never did listen the first time, you insolent sod."
"Forgive me for wanting better for my daughter," Cygnus returned. "She is a Black and is sullying herself with all sorts of riff-raff that pass through that place."
Arcturus's eyes narrowed as he leaned forward in his chair.
"There are few greater callings than being a healer. Just because you have done nothing with your life, it does not mean Narcissa should follow in your lacking footsteps. Now, I will not tell you again, boy, shut your mouth before I do it for you."
For a moment, those gathered at the table expected a rebuttal from her father, but it did not come, much to her relief.
"Sorry, Narcissa, you were saying?" her grandfather pressed.
"At the moment, I'm watching a patient that was brought in. He's in a coma of sorts and was found floating in the Thames. He's in an isolation room because his magic is flaring, and two healers have already been hurt quite badly," she explained.
Her grandfather hummed interestedly as he gestured for the first course to be brought in.
"That is strange," her Aunt Dorea broke in. "Magical flaring only really happens in children when they are growing or if someone has suffered a significant trauma. Is there anything else wrong with him?"
Narcissa shrugged.
"We don't know, and we can't identify him," Narcissa answered. "One of the healers was injured when she tried to remove his wand holsters. That's as close as anyone has gotten to him."
"Hmm, and there is nothing else to go on?"
Narcissa shook her head.
"No one recognises him, but he must be a Lord. He has a ring, but it has concealment charms on it. The other healer was injured trying to undo them."
Her grandfather snorted.
"Only a fool would try something like that. Family rings are not to be messed with," he pointed out. "Have you not tried to get someone from the Wizengamot to have a look at him? Someone there would surely recognise him."
Narcissa nodded.
"Tiberius Ogden had a look and said he'd never seen him before."
"Ogden wouldn't remember the colour of the pants he put on that morning," Arcturus mumbled. "I'm sure you'll figure it out in the end."
"We will," Narcissa sighed as she helped herself to some of her soup. She had spent the best part of fourteen hours watching the man and had not eaten since before her shift.
"Rabastan was asking after you," Rudolphus piped up after a moment, the grin he wore making her distinctly uncomfortable.
"Well, my sister is the one that has been sacrificed to marry one of your lot, so kindly tell him to get lost," she retorted.
Rudolphus flushed as her grandfather and Sirius laughed. Her mother shook her head in disapproval, but it was Bella that reprimanded her before any other.
"Cissy, that was rude! Now apologise."
Narcissa was not fooled by the sweet, caring façade her sister had learned to portray over the past few years. She may come across that way in front of the family, but she was not so. She had fallen in with a crowd of pureblood supremacists and was becoming quite the fanatic.
"I'm sorry, Rudolphus," she offered. "I've had a long day and spoke out of turn."
"It's alright," the man grumbled, his ears still red.
"I say we raise a toast," her grandmother declared, garnering the attention of the room. "To Rudolphus and Bellatrix, may their marriage be a long and happy one."
Narcissa raised her glass with the rest and drank to them as expected. She didn't think Bella would be happy with anyone, but Rudolphus was rich, quite handsome in his own way and the name came with considerable respect. Her sister would fit in well with the Lestranges, especially if the rumours she'd heard about them were true.
Bellatrix couldn't do much better for herself really.
"And what about you, Sirius, how has Hogwarts been this year?" her grandfather asked.
The boy had been the only Black to have been sorted into a different house other than Slytherin in generations. It was quite the sore point for Walburga who had already despised her son before this.
"It's not bad," Sirius answered with a shrug, his eyes firmly on his plate of food.
Out of them all, he was the one who fitted in the least. He was very blunt with little shrewdness to show for his upbringing. Most would wear the name they carried as though it were a badge of honour, and the rest of the family did. The name Black was one held in high regard and more than a little fear. Sirius, however, did all he could to distance himself from it.
Her grandfather had expressed his concern of this over the years. He was in line to inherit the Lordship after his father, something he had expressed he did not want. She knew that her grandfather held hope he would change his mind, but she had her doubts. Being raised by Walburga would turn anyone away from that notion, though not her younger son.
Regulus was much more receptive to her wishes, was willing to do whatever she wanted to keep her happy whereas his brother was not. Sirius fought his mother on everything and she made his life miserable for it.
If Narcissa had to bet, she would say he would be the next to turn his back on the family. Sirius was different, had been placed in a different house and befriended his peers. He was scornful towards the students clad in green and silver, even his sibling. They had been close once but that had changed when Regulus had started at Hogwarts. Now, they barely acknowledged the other existed.
"Sit up straight, you horrible whelp!" Walburga scolded.
Sirius scowled at her; his eyes filled with loathing towards the woman that had birthed him. He complied nonetheless, though only to the lowest of what was considered decent.
Her grandfather glared balefully at Walburga. It was no secret he disliked her deeply and couldn't fathom why her Uncle Orion had married her. Even Narcissa couldn't tolerate her presence for long. She was rude and believed herself better than everyone.
As a Black, she was familiar with such thinking, had been raised to know their status in the world, but none rubbed it in people's faces more than her least favourite aunt.
"When were you thinking of holding the wedding?" her Aunt Dorea asked the newly engaged couple.
As was the norm, her husband nor son had come along for the dinner. Charlus hated her father, the two unable to be in the room without an altercation of sorts breaking out between them. Her father would always end up worse off. Charlus Potter was not a man to cross and her father was too stubborn to admit that. Despite her grandfather's various warnings over the years, he still goaded the Potter lord.
James flat-out refused to have anything to do with them since he was twelve. She remembered the Christmas he had come to dinner and berated Walburga for how she treated Sirius.
Quite the unpleasant scenario had ensued, and her aunt had her nose transfigured into a pig snout. She had been apoplectic, and the festivities had ended early with a smug James Potter being frogmarched from the house by his furious mother.
"We were thinking of December," Rudolphus answered, taking Bella's hand in his own.
She nodded as she smiled, though Narcissa did not miss the slight grimace from his touch.
Whatever notion the man had about a happy marriage with her sister was little more than a fantasy. He likely thought that she would be the perfect, doting pureblood wife but Narcissa knew her better. Bellatrix would not be tamed and would always do what she wanted. If anything, Rudolphus would be an afterthought to her own ambitions and the best he could hope for was that she didn't decide he had become a hindrance. She had grown with Bellatrix and had seen the other side to her. It was not pleasant, and it was only a matter of time before her husband-to-be would see it too.
"That will be lovely," Dorea commented. "It gives you lots of time to plan."
"And for me to get used to the idea of only having one daughter still at home," Druella added.
She had taken Andromeda's betrayal the worst of them all. Her father had simply washed his hands of her, but her mother had grieved before she too one day decided Andi did not exist. She was now a taboo subject and only Narcissa had seen her, though not willingly.
She had been on shift when Andi had been admitted to St Mungo's and had given birth to her daughter, an addition the rest of the family did not yet know about. She would not be the one to tell them. They had only just begun calming down and the only reason the woman still lived was because Charlus Potter had offered her his protection, at the behest of her Aunt Dorea, she suspected.
Her grandfather had been furious with the man, had taken exception to his interference but would not allow a quarrel to form between them. They went further back than when either had children and he'd been all but forced to let Andromeda go without repercussion. He had, of course, disowned her from the family, had taken her name and status. That, however, was all he could do, and he had spent weeks stewing on it. Knowing she had married a mudblood was an insult and one he would never accept.
"Narcissa will have to marry soon," her father interjected. "She is almost twenty and has had her fun with this healing crap."
Her Aunt Dorea shot him a scathing glare.
"She still has another two yeas of training to complete," she pointed out.
Cygnus laughed.
"What good will that do her? It's not as though she is going to stay there. What self-respecting man would want his wife dirtying herself in a shithole like that?"
"My husband did, and I suggest that you choose your words very carefully, Cygnus. Charlus may not be here but do not think me too old to put you in your place."
"ENOUGH!" her grandfather thundered, heading off the altercation before it could begin. "You will hold your tongue, boy. You will not disrespect anyone at this table with your filth. As the head of house, I have given Narcissa my full blessing to continue with her work for as long as she sees fit and any prospective husband will be made aware of that."
"She is my daughter!" Cygnus growled.
"And one who has gotten off her arse and is doing something worthwhile with her life. What have you done other than piss and moan about your lot? Fuck all, now shut up before I do it for you or I may just insist on Charlus being here and you can voice your opinion to him."
Her father's nostrils flared, but he didn't say anything else. He wouldn't drop the matter, however, and would continue to berate her chosen path at every given turn. Eventually, he would likely get his way, but so long as her grandfather was on her side, there was nothing he could do.
He enjoyed the lavish life being a Black gave him to push too far and her grandfather's patience did have its limits.
"I think Cissy is doing something good," Bellatrix commented after the table had fallen silent for several minutes.
Narcissa frowned lightly. Bella had never complimented nor shown any interest in what she was doing. She had even been as scathing as her father at times and Narcissa was no fool.
She was saying it to merely curry favour with her grandfather who gave the woman a rare smile. Bellatrix didn't care about defending her; she was up to something and had an ulterior motive for the apparent kindness.
"She is," Arcturus agreed, "and I am very proud of her. Some of you lazy sods could learn a lot from her. She is the only one with a prospective career."
"Sirius wants to be an auror," Regulus snorted. "Severus overheard him talking about it."
"Snape is a nosy, greasy shitbag," Sirius retorted as the Black Patriarch shook his head.
"Being an auror is out of the question," Arcturus declared. "When you finish school, you will be working with me. You need to learn how to look after the family."
Sirius looked as though he could think of nothing worse but said nothing.
"I wouldn't trust the boy to run a household, let alone the family," Walburga snarked.
Arcturus banged his fork on the table, his balled fists trembling as his eyes bore into his daughter-in-law.
"Shut your hole, Walburga. You're getting dangerously close to pissing me off," he warned. "I do not care what your scheming, nasty thoughts are. Sirius is in line after Orion and that is final. If I get a whiff of you even trying to change that, you'll be on the streets with only the cheeks of your arse to rub together!"
Walburga returned the glare but was smart enough to still her tongue.
"Bloody hell, we are supposed to be celebrating an engagement and all I've had is whining and complaining. I'm sick of it. The next one to do so can piss off."
He was angry and they all knew it. As such, they remained in silence as they finished their meal.
Her grandfather and grandmother were the first to leave along with Dorea. Rudolphus followed shortly after explaining he had a meeting to attend. That left Narcissa with her parents, Bella and Walburga's household.
Much to her relief, her father did not appear keen on spending any more time with them than necessary, and they too soon left, opting to take the floo to their own home.
"Thank Merlin for that," Bellatrix sighed when they had arrived in their entrance hall. "As entertaining as it is to see grandfather go off on one, I'm tired. I'll see you all in the morning."
"Goodnight, Bella," her mother called as she ascended the stairs.
If her parents wished to believe that's what she was doing, then that was on them. Narcissa knew exactly what Bellatrix was up to. She would go to her room, lock the door and apparate to do whatever she snuck out for most nights.
With her own work to keep herself occupied; she left her sister be. If Bellatrix was getting mixed up in something, that was her business. Narcissa had enough on her plate.
"Shouldn't you be off to bed?" her mother asked.
"No, I'm working the night shift for the next few weeks," she answered.
"With a comatose patient?" her father snickered. "I'm sure that will be riveting."
With his jab given, he took his leave and her mother offered her a smile.
"Ignore him, Cissy. Your father does not understand why you do what you do. He's lived a sheltered life where he believed that careers were for poor people. His ambition never grew beyond bettering your grandfather."
"He's bitter that he's younger than Orion," Narcissa returned.
Her mother nodded.
"He believes that he would make a better lord."
"No offense to Uncle Orion, he probably would. Walburga has him wrapped around her finger. He's too much of a yes man."
"And then Sirius will take over," Druella snorted. "At least we know he won't cave to his mother's wants."
Narcissa shook her head.
"If he wasn't so dense, he would use his position against her."
"A position he doesn't want," Druella reminded her. "I imagine he will have nothing to do with the family when he comes of age."
"Sooner," Narcissa countered. "He's not smart enough to wait."
"No, he is not," Druella agreed, "but that's on him. I will be turning in for the night."
"I'm going to stay up and read some old cases. Maybe I'll find something to explain what's going on with this patient."
Druella offered her a smile and placed a kiss on her cheek.
"I am proud of you for what you're doing, but don't overdo it."
Narcissa nodded as she went to her own room and took her usual spot at her desk where a neat stack of old, resolved medical files had been placed. She didn't expect to find anything that would hep with her the man, but it couldn't hurt to look and familiarise herself with something she may be encountered with one day, if she was allowed to continue.
Her father had been right when he had mentioned that her future husband would unlikely be happy with her working. For the most part, it was not the done thing in higher society.
Those in lower families of lesser wealth worked, but not the Blacks nor the Lestranges or even the Potters anymore. Her Aunt Dorea was the exception, only because her grandfather had allowed her to and Charlus had supported her also. Other than her, there was no other that carried her name who did.
Narcissa liked working. Even the days that tested her patience, she revelled in the satisfaction it gave her. She wanted to feel that she had earned something, that she had pushed herself in some way.
At school, it had been with her work in charms and potions mostly, but when she had left, she had fallen into a routine of nothingness. That was when she decided to become a healer. She had loved her day in the hospital with Dorea and could imagine herself doing it. She didn't, however, expect it would consume as much of her life as it had, but it had proven to be beneficial.
With her out of sight of her father, he wasn't so insistent on her marrying, though it was recently becoming a more frequent topic of discussion.
She had expected marriage-talks since she had been thirteen. Her father would find her a suitable match and they would be married. From then on, she would have his heirs and play hostess to his acquaintances and act the perfect pureblood wife as she had been trained to be.
In truth, she had no feelings on the matter. It was the life she had been born into and the one she had accepted. The best she could hope for was a man who was not cruel. Not that her family would allow such a thing. If even a whisper of that were to reach them, her grandfather would have him killed for daring so.
No, for now, she was content to continue with her training. If only to enjoy the freedom it gave her, as temporary as that may be.
(Break)
She had managed to sleep in until just after midday but could manage no longer. Tonight, would be a long shift, a boring one likely, though she always had things she could busy herself with during the lonely hours observing the mysterious wizard. There was also the chance she would be needed elsewhere if an emergency required it, so all was not lost. It was not as though she was wasting her time watching him.
She was intrigued by the young man, as most of the staff were. It was not often a person would arrive that could not be identified nor in his condition. He was already the talk of St Mungo's and she would freely admit that even she was fascinated.
With only thirty minutes to go before she was due to take up her vigil, she dried her hair and tied it in the bun that was required. Checking her reflection in the mirror, she nodded satisfactorily and left her room.
"What time will you be back in the morning?" her mother asked as she passed the dining room.
"I finish at eight, so just after."
Druella nodded and offered her a smile.
"Have fun."
Narcissa raised an eyebrow. Fun was the least likely thing she would have but she would prefer this than being up to her elbows in filth as was the case on many occasions.
With her mother's parting words, she took her leave of the house and apparated to the alley she always did only a short walk away from the hospital.
When she arrived, it seemed to be a quiet night, something that could change in a heartbeat as there were currently only two patients waiting for medical attention. One was a man who was clutching his own arm under the other, seemingly having splinched himself whilst apparating, and the other was a woman who had the head of a cat. The cat on her lap had the head of the woman attached to its shoulders.
She shook her head and the odd cat-lady hissed at her. Merlin only knew what she had been trying to do when that had happened.
Narcissa paid no mind to the receptionist as she passed. Sandra was a gossipy woman who, like many other workers here, pretended she didn't exist. The name Narcissa carried was as much a gift as it was a curse and only Healer Camden didn't seem fazed by her. It might be that she was American and hadn't heard of the Blacks, or she simply didn't care.
She treated Narcissa as she did any other trainee.
It was the very woman of her thoughts she found within the observation room, the clipboard with everything they knew about him in hand.
"How has he been?" she asked as she finished adjusting her robes.
"Restless, but his flaring seems to have stopped, for now," Camden explained. "I think he is having nightmares."
Narcissa gazed at the man through the window. His brow was creased, and he was mumbling incoherently. He did, however, look healthier than he had. He was no longer deathly pale nor seemingly on the verge of such.
"I can take over from here for you," she said to her colleague. "It's only five extra minutes, I'm sure I can manage."
The woman gave her a grateful smile as she handed her the quill and clipboard before leaving and Narcissa took the vacated seat to settle in for the night. She withdrew the medical file she had been perusing the previous night to occupy her time and began reading the rather boring but detailed document.
It could only have been a couple of hours later that she heard a commotion outside the room, and when she opened the door to investigate, she was met with the sight of healers rushing towards the reception area.
She followed and came upon around a dozen witches and wizards that had seemingly been caught up in a fight of sorts. Several were bleeding heavily from wounds and two of them, she suspected, had already succumbed to their injuries.
"What's happened?" she asked one of the other trainees who had started around the same time as her.
"They were attacked in Manchester. The Aurors are there trying to deal with it, but we don't know anything else yet," the woman explained.
"MOSELY GET OVER HERE!" one of the senior healers called. "BLACK, BACK TO YOUR POST, WE CAN MANAGE THIS LOT."
The woman rushed off to assist him and Narcissa returned to her reading and watching her patient. She didn't take it personally and had seen the night staff deal with much worse during her time here. If she was needed, she would be sent for.
Until then, she would settle back into her work and be grateful that she would avoid being covered in blood and other bodily fluids. No matter how much any healer liked their job, that was not something any spoke of fondly.
She had been back at it for only another hour when her attention was grabbed once more. It wasn't a ruckus similar to the last but had come from within the room the man was resting in.
She yelped in surprise as she saw him sat up, his wand in hand and the tip of it lit. His face was mostly obscured by the shadows and her breath hitched as she waited to see what he would do next.
She watched as the light moved, pausing as he seemed to spot the observation window. His mouth was formed into a hard line; she could see no more than that.
Not wanting him to panic or react violently to waking up in a strange place, she left the room and went to the reception.
"Sandra, the patient in room three just woke up. Can you send for someone?"
"Everyone is busy," the woman sighed irritably, not looking her way nor indicating she had even listened to what she had said. "We had another four come in. You'll have to manage."
Narcissa's eyes narrowed before she turned and headed back to the observation room. When she arrived, the man was out of bed, limping around the room with his wand held aloft. This could prove to be a potentially dangerous situation if he decided to turn violent, and she needed to avoid that.
"Is anyone there?" he croaked; his voice hoarse.
He had come across the speaker situated in the far corner of the room and was looking at it expectantly. His back was to her now and she pressed her wand against the rune that would allow him to hear her.
"You are in St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. You were brought here after you were found floating in the River Thames. Do you know what happened to you?"
He paused for several moments, likely trying to remember what had transpired that led to him being found in the state he was.
He mumbled incoherently under his breath before shaking his head.
"No, I don't remember anything."
"It's okay," she tried to assure him. "Do you mind if I turn on the lights?" He waved her off dismissively and her wand switched to the rune that did so. "I will need to check you over. We haven't been able to so far because your magic has been very erratic. Can I come in?"
He seemed hesitant and she was readying herself to offer further reassurance when he spoke.
"Is it just you?" he questioned.
"It is."
He nodded.
"Fine."
She removed her wand from the rune and took a deep breath. In cases like this, she would prefer someone accompanying her. He could be unpredictable, but he could also need help. If anything were to happen to him whilst she was keeping watch, it would be her that would get it in the neck.
Bracing herself, she left the observation room and headed for the one just next door.
(Break)
He had immediately been on edge when the woman had informed him that he was in St Mungo's. He couldn't be seen here, not when it was under control of the Death Eaters. However, the memory of what had happened in the Ministry came flooding back, his odd encounter with the Peverell's and the strange cloaked figure.
Without conscious thought, his hand reached for his chest where the arm of Antioch had been shoved. He felt like himself, still had all his own memories, but he could sense something different, something within that felt part of him but separate also. It was as though there was now more to him and he could not help but shudder at the thought of the implications.
"Harry Potter does not exist where you are going…"
That begged the question of just where he was? He would need to clarify that as soon as he could, but first, he needed to get out of here. He would not assume that he had been given any truth from the cloaked figure until he saw it for himself.
He took a seat on the bed as the door opened and a young, blonde woman in healer's robes entered with her wand drawn.
"Would you be kind enough to put your wand away?" she asked.
He nodded as he slid it back in the holster, feeling no indication that it was about to come to his rescue, much to his relief. He didn't need to draw any more attention to himself.
"Thank you, I am Trainee-Healer Black. I'm going to give you a basic medical check, so just sit still and it will be over with shortly," she instructed.
Harry frowned.
A Black as a healer? He must be somewhere new. He had never considered that anyone from that family could be a healer, not from what Sirius had said of them, not to mention his previous encounters with the portrait of his mother.
No, something was undoubtedly different and as he looked up at the woman, he recognised something familiar about her, though he could not quite imagine where from.
"Are you feeling any pain?" she asked, pulling him from his thoughts.
He shook his head and she took some notes on her clipboard.
"I noticed you limping, is that an old injury?"
"A curse from a year ago," he answered. "I fixed it as best I could, but it hasn't healed properly."
She pursed her lips at him disapprovingly as she once again scratched away with her quill.
"Do you know what curse it was?"
"A Bone-Splintering one," he explained with a shrug.
She gasped as her eyes roamed down to the limb.
"You're lucky you still have it," she chided. "Why did you not seek help?"
"It wasn't a priority."
She released a deep breath through her nose as she tapped the leg with her wand and muttered.
Harry watched in fascination as she carried out her work. Of all the skills he had acquired over the years, healing was not one of them. There was a reason they trained for so long.
"You missed a piece of bone and it has become lodged in your thigh. It can be removed but the recovery will take time. I will inform a surgeon and they will manage that. You're very fortunate and very foolish."
He snorted in amusement.
She was one of the no-nonsense types like Madame Pomfrey. Perhaps all healers were the same. He didn't know as he had met very few of them.
"It is not a laughing matter," the woman huffed. "Unless you get this fixed, the leg will only get worse and will one day be completely useless and untreatable. Magic cannot fix everything."
"Bloody hell, you do run on," Harry grumbled.
She raised a delicate eyebrow at him and began writing whilst muttering under her breath.
"Patient is belligerent…"
"Well, excuse me for not being in the best mood. I've woken up in a strange place and am now being harassed by a healer," he returned.
She was unimpressed with his retort and continued with her note taking, only deigning him with a look when she was finished.
"What is the last thing you remember?"
He frowned at the question.
It was not as though he was going to tell her about meeting three wizards that had been dead for almost a thousand years. He couldn't tell anyone that. He would likely be admitted to an entirely different ward here.
"I just remember walking down the street and then I was here."
She stared at him for a moment, evidently not believing his explanation.
"You don't have to tell me, but the aurors won't be so easily dismissed. Now, what is your name? I need to fill in the rest of your paperwork and can't do that without it."
He rested his chin on his chest, his eyes catching sight of the ring that adorned his finger. It was no longer the one that had been liberated from the Gaunt family home. The resurrection stone was still within it but either side sat two ravens made of onyx with diamonds for eyes. The symbol of the Deathly Hallows gleamed within the stone, something else that had not been there before.
He swallowed deeply as the very same words of the cloaked figure played over in his mind once more, unsettling him.
"Harry Potter does not exist where you are going…"
He shook his head slightly. Without knowing where he was, he was not going to give the name his mother had bestowed upon him. There could be other Potters here and too many questions would be raised.
Of all the preparations he had made, that Dumbledore had helped him with, they had never considered this. Why would they? It was almost unbelievable.
"My name is Harry Peverell," he answered, his mind made up by the ring he wore.
Why wouldn't it be? He was related to them and now carried a piece of each of the brothers in his soul. He could feel them, all of them separately within him.
The ring would give his story credence. He could feel the magic of it connected to his own. He had come to recognise Lord's rings, had begun looking out for them when he had encountered Death Eaters, so he knew which ones to kill first.
The one he had sought most had been that of Lucius Malfoy. The man, however, would flee from him. He was a coward to the very core and Harry never did get his chance to put an end to the man.
The woman was looking at him again, a light frown marring her features before she shook herself from whatever thoughts she was having.
"As a Lord, you do not need to provide your address," she sighed. "That is a Lordship ring, isn't it? My grandfather has the one for our family and yours is similar," she explained.
He nodded. He was almost certain it was but could not be sure, not until he went to Gringotts, if the bank even existed here. He felt hopeful it did. If St Mungo's was here, surely the bank would be too?
"Your grandfather? The Lord Black?"
"Yes," she confirmed, her eyes seemingly scanning him for some sort of reaction. "You do not need to worry. When I am on duty, I am a healer just like any other, but when these robes are off, I am no longer bound by the rules here."
She had mistaken his simple question for concern. After a brief pause, he unleashed a bark of laughter at the unintended inuendo, though the woman did not seem to understand why he found what she said so amusing.
"You may want to rephrase what you said."
She frowned deeply, her cheeks flushing pink as she shook her head.
"I did not mean that," she bit back irritably.
"I know," Harry assured her, "but it was funny."
She narrowed her eyes at him as she wrote another note.
"Patient shows signs of lewdness. Be cautious around him."
"Oi, you said what you did!"
"And you took it the complete wrong way," she countered. "Now, be quiet whilst I finish my work. Merlin, I wish you would have waited to wake up."
Harry said nothing as she went about her task, the only sounds being the muttering she did whilst she cast her spells and the scratching of her quill.
"Well, other than your leg, you seem to be in good health other than being slightly underweight. There doesn't appear to be any sign of lasting damage to your magic, but a Senior Healer will want to check you over just to be sure. Your magic should not flare as it has been."
Harry had no explanation for that.
"Please remove your shirt, I need to do a final physical test to see if there is anything the magic did not detect," she instructed.
When he hesitated, she huffed irritably.
"Believe me, Lord Peverell, working here, I have seen anything you can imagine. Just take off the shirt and we can be done with it in only a moment."
With a sigh, Harry did so, and she balked. He had scars that he had accumulated over the years, but it was not those her gaze was fixed on. When he looked down, he too was taken aback by the image of an elder tree that had taken up residence on his side, his ribs down to his hip now marred with the image.
It was not the tree that took his attention, but the bird that rested on one of the uppermost branches, his white eyes prominently on display.
"Olin," he whispered.
He tried to hide his surprise, though he questioned just how this had happened. He could not be sure, but he suspected it had something to do with the cloaked figure. It was the only explanation that made sense even if nothing else did thus far.
The healer too was shocked, and even more so when the bird emerged from his skin and perched upon his shoulder, no longer but a tattoo of sorts.
She shrieked as he cawed, and Harry held up a hand to calm her.
"It's okay, he's my companion," he explained.
The healer remained still; her mouth agape as she stared at the raven.
"Death!" Olin shrieked.
"Not yet, old friend," Harry chuckled.
"I've never seen anything like it," the healer whispered, drawing his attention back to her.
"I thought you said you'd seen everything," Harry quipped.
"You have a bird living in your skin," she retorted. "How is that even possible?"
"Magic?" Harry returned with a grin.
The healer released a deep breath of frustration.
"You're full of surprises," she muttered. "Is there anything else I should be aware of before I continue?"
"I don't think so," he replied.
She nodded and began inspecting him. Now bereft of the raven, his scars stood out and had garnered her attention. She ran a finger along a few of them curiously.
"Where did they all come from?"
"Here and there," Harry answered cryptically.
In truth, he did not remember how he got them all. Some had come from Vernon when he had been a child, the one from the basilisk remained as did the one on his arm from the dragon he had gotten during the first task of the tournament.
To be back there would be bliss for him, despite how terrifying each ordeal had been. The others had come from his skirmishes with the Death Eaters and Snatchers, though the one that bothered him most had been given to him by Wormtail.
The rat was another he had not seen since the night Voldemort had returned. Often, he found himself pondering what he would do if he were to capture him. It would not end well for Pettigrew, that was all he could be certain of.
"Well, none of them are showing any signs of lingering magic or not having healed correctly," she informed him as she finished and wrote down her findings. "That is everything I need from you, so I would suggest you get some rest. A surgeon will come and speak with you in the morning and arrange fixing your leg."
He knew he should wait for that at the very least. It was only growing worse with each passing day and if it could be fixed, he would be a fool not to have the work done.
"How long was I out?" he asked.
"You've been here for just over a week," the healer explained.
"And what date is it?"
"July fifth. You've not missed much," she offered reassuringly. "We've had patients here that have been out for months."
Harry nodded thoughtfully, though her words did little to calm him.
"I think I've slept long enough. Would you be able to get me a newspaper to read whilst I wait?"
"I will bring one in for you, and some food. You could probably do with a good meal," she added as she took her leave from the room.
When he was alone, he felt his stomach sink. Something was sorely amiss, and it pulled him into a feeling of despair. He didn't know where he was, what was happening to him nor what he was going to do.
She returned only a few moments later with a plate of sandwiches and a newspaper tucked under her arm.
"I will need to submit the report. Is there anyone I can contact for you? Your parents, or other family members? A friend even?"
He shook his head, the thought of his friends only dragging him deeper into the feeling within him.
"No, I don't have any family or friends. They're dead," he muttered.
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that."
He waved her off as he took the plate of food and newspaper she held out to him.
"Don't be, it's something I dealt with a long time ago," he replied. "Anyway, thank you for this," he added dismissively.
She took the hint and made her way to the door before pausing.
"If you need anything, just let me know."
He nodded before biting into a sandwich and unfurling the newspaper, his chewing ceasing as he took in the date printed in top right-hand corner.
05/07/1975
He forced his mouthful of food down his throat as dozens of thoughts began forming all at once.
"Balance," he mumbled disbelievingly, the word the cloaked figure had thrown around so many times coming to the forefront of his mind.
"Bloody hell."
He didn't know what kind of magic he had been subjected to, but this went beyond anything he could have ever comprehended.
What was he going to do? And why had he been brought here of all places?
He did not know but he would need to ponder it. He needed to plan and begin understanding just what was happening around him.
He couldn't help but think that the cloaked figure was somewhere laughing at him right now, finding joy in what he had done.
Harry knew not where to begin, but he had time to think at the very least. He would need to recover from his surgery and then find his way in this world.
He had not been given the impression that failure was an option and could not imagine the cloaked figure being pleased if such a thing were to pass.
No, he was in over his head, but he would need to get a lay of the land quickly and adapt accordingly.
The only benefit he could see thus far was that no one knew him. The Death Eaters would not be looking for him, and he would be able to make his own preparations, for what good that would do.
He was just a s blind to them as they were to him, his only advantage being that he knew some of their names.
"This just gets better and better," he huffed.
(Break)
When her report had been submitted, she immediately returned to the observation room and continued watching him through the window. He had not taken another bite of the food, the sandwich he had begun eating having been placed back on the plate.
He was now absentmindedly stroking the feathers of the eerie raven, consumed by his own thoughts.
He knew more than he had told her, of that she was certain. When she had asked, he had shut down, but she could see the realisation wash over him. Whatever it was, it was clear that he did not wish to discuss it and had even gone to the lengths of using occlumency to centre himself.
It hadn't been a conscious move, but she had been around enough practitioners of the mind arts to recognise it.
Something traumatic had happened, only a fool would miss the signs, and she was not one. He had withdrawn into himself and Narcissa felt a stab of sympathy for the man. From the little she had gleaned from him; he was alone in the world and lost.
He was young too, likely around her age but what she had seen told a story of hardship and adversity. His scars were not only the indicator, as numerous as they were. It was everything about him that screamed such, his tense posture and even his brilliant green eyes had hardened with what he had endured. What that was, she did not know. What she ascertained immediately was that he hadn't been taking care of himself. He was rather malnourished, and his long dark hair was unkempt and lank.
He could well be a mercenary of sorts or had survived whatever had killed his parents or friends. Regardless of either, it did not seem that life had been kind to him.
She shook her head as he began rubbing his leg.
Why would he not have sought help for the injury?
So many things about the man did not make sense, and as closed off as he was, it was unlikely she would ever learn the truth.
She had, however, been right about one thing. He was a Lord, though the name Peverell was not familiar and she had been educated on all the families that held a Lordship in Britain.
Perhaps he was foreign?
That too was unlikely. His accent was unmistakably English.
Maybe her grandfather would know the family. She would ask when she next saw him. Now, however, her job was to keep watch over him and ensure he got the needed surgery. His leg was in a very bad way.
"Sandra said he had woken up," a voice spoke, startling her from her thoughts.
She nodded, her stare remaining on the man.
"What did he have to say?" Camden asked.
"Not much. He doesn't remember what happened before he ended up here, but he needs surgery on his leg. He was hit with a Bone-Splintering Curse around a year ago and he did not get help for it."
Camden muttered unhappily under her breath as she moved closer to the window.
"Where did the bird come from?"
Narcissa shook her head.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"Come on, Black. We see strange things in here every day."
"The tattoo on his side. The bird was sitting in it and flew out of his skin."
Camden laughed, though it stopped when she realised she was being serious.
"I've never heard of magic like it," she commented.
"No, I imagine it is family magic. I've never heard of them before, but his name is Harry Peverell."
"And did you inform anyone he's here?"
"There's no one to tell," Narcissa answered. "He said he has no family or friends left alive."
"Poor man, and so young too," Camden sighed. "Anything else we need to be aware of?"
"He has a lot of scars from previous injuries, all wounds have healed and there were no traces of magic found from the preliminary scans. Other than that, I've arranged a surgeon to see him and then he can begin his recovery. A couple of weeks of therapy should be enough to fix what damage has been done."
"Good, you head home for some rest, and I will stay with him for the surgery," Camden instructed. "You're with him again tonight?"
Narcissa nodded.
"Then I will try to show him that we're not all scary purebloods around here. I bet I can even get a smile out of him."
"I already made him laugh," Narcissa retorted.
Camden's eyebrows disappeared behind her fringe.
"I don't believe that," she denied, "not the stiff, professional Narcissa Black. How did you manage it?"
Narcissa's cheeks flushed pink.
"It wasn't intentional," she admitted wryly. "He recognised my name and reacted how all the other patients do. I just said I'm a healer like any other until my robes come off."
Camden snorted in a very unladylike way.
"I didn't mean to."
"It happens, Black. We all have our slips of the tongue. Now, go before I put you down for a double shift."
Narcissa didn't need telling twice and she handed the clipboard she still held to her colleague and left the room.
It was a mere fifteen minutes later that she was re-entering her home, the shift having been much more than she had expected. As such, she was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go to bed, her sleep the night before having amounted to little.
"Cissy is that you?" her mother called as she reached the steps.
"Yes, mother."
"Come in here, please."
With a tired sigh, she entered the parlour room her mother often entertained her guests in. This morning, there were none, much to her relief.
"We have been invited to the Lestrange's home for a late afternoon tea, so do ready to leave by four. The whole family will be there."
Narcissa released a deep breath. The last thing she wanted was to attend a ridiculous tea party before another long shift at work. She nodded her understanding, nonetheless. Her mother would accept nothing else than her attendance.
"I will make sure I'm ready," she assured her and left the room to go to her own.
Ever since Bella had been engaged to Rudolphus, the Lestrange's had tried to ingratiate themselves with her family more and more. She had nothing against them, not really, but it was becoming tiresome. If Lord Lestrange thought he was approaching earning favour with her grandfather the correct way, then he was a fool.
He was not a man impressed with people kissing up to him, and he did not care for such. Arcturus Black was impressed by ambition and hard work. The current Lord Lestrange was much like her own father and had done nothing of note with his life and it was unlikely her grandfather would ever warm to him.
He didn't even seem to like Rudolphus much and he was going to become a member of their family.
Still, an additional gathering with them was not a priority for her. She had much more important things to focus on and could do without her sister's, fiancé's younger brother leering at her for the entirety of her time there.
He was a lecherous type and not one she wished to associate with. Rudolphus at least had manners and only had eyes for Bellatrix, even if he too was dim.
With an irritable mumble, she removed her clothes and climbed into bed, too tired to shower. She would do so when she woke which would hopefully not be before noon.
As she attempted to settle herself, her thoughts wandered once more to the mystery wizard. He was proving to be quite the enigma and she found herself more intrigued by him than ever after having spoken to the man and witnessing his odd raven.
It was not every day one would meet such a person, after all.