Author's Preface
First off, feel free to skip this if you want as it has nothing to do with the story. Secondly, if you recognize me from Google+, you may know that I'm writing an original novel series that is neither based off theHarry Potter novels by J.K. Rowling nor takes place in that universe. This is NOT that novel. Work out that double-negative if you can... I am still in the outlining faze of that particular series, so I don't expect to release official content on that in years.
THIS story is merely a method of clearing my mind of writer's block. Every now and then, I need to take my writing less seriously and have more fun with it. This particular plot was partly a story I developed in a bout of role-play with a fellow writer, but it was a bit too in-depth for the story we were playing around with. I thought it might make a good story for light reading, so voila. I intend to release this story in small chunks (more commonly known as chapters), and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I do writing it.
I love the Harry Potter novels, and I have always loved allowing my imagination to take off with possible stories that could flow from that rich source that is Miz Rowling's imagination. I might also add that I hope you don't take offense to the liberties I took with the story. For example, I will possibly incorporate an unconfirmed theory into the story. This may either enrage you, enthrall you..., or disgust you. Also, this particular story will begin during the summer of 1996 before Harry Potter's 6th year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and my plan is for it to continue on past the Battle of Hogwarts.
To Get Involved: If you have any suggestions for the story-line, I am all ears. Any criticisms are, of course, welcome, and feel free to email me any time at mynamewasfrog . As stated previously, I am involved in Google+, so I will be announcing whenever I update the story with new chapters, often with a teaser. However, I wouldn't bother checking out my profile if I were you since none of the content there will be half as original or interesting as this. In the future, I may also start Emerald Heir-themed Instagram, Facebook, YouTube, and/or Twitter accounts to allow the readers to more effectively follow my content or so I can interact with them and answer questions. You may also receive alerts for whenever I update the story if you choose to follow here on Wattpad. If you like my story, please let me know in the comments, and share with your friends on your social media of choice. Although, who knows? I may simply be deluded into thinking I'll actually have readers. Only time will tell.
Disclaimer: Needless to say, I do not claim attributions to any of the characters, events, or locations that appear in the Harry Potter novels. Those belong to J.K. Rowling and her estate. This story is written by a fan for the fans. Furthermore, any inspiration for the characters, and the like-even of my original design-I dedicate to her. I also apologize to every one of my English teachers for any and all improper grammar. You tried. You really did...
Chapter 1 – The Arrival
Phoebe Walker, a fifth year, grabbed an old, grimy phial from the dusty shelves of a closet in the quiet infirmary and handed it to Madame Pomfrey to be cleaned and replaced. "Scourgify!" the aging healer announced, and the glass instantly became white and clean. The fall term of 1996 had just begun at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and there was work to be done in the infirmary in preparation for the countless flus, coughs, and negative repercussions of poorly applied spells and Weasley's Wizard Wheezes products passing through for weeks ahead. Even at ten o' clock at night, Phoebe aided Madame Pomfrey in her mission to "be ready for whatever the little buggers can think of to do to each other."
"Madame Pomfrey?" Phoebe inquired. "Did you always know you wanted to be a healer?"
Madame Pomfrey stood up straight and turned sharply toward Phoebe.
"Child, I continue repeating myself! You do not have to call me that. You are one of my most advanced students and my protege. Please, call me Poppy."
Shutting her eyes and squinting as if calling the old healer by her first name caused physical pain, Phoebe continued.
"Alright..., Poppy, but you didn't answer my question."
"I suppose I did know."
"How did you know?"
"I suppose I just knew I wanted to help people."
Raising her eyebrows, the student shot Poppy a reprising glare.
"Come on. There's gotta be more to it than that."
Poppy nodded. "Ah, I suppose it can't hurt. I suppose... I decided to become a healer when my little brother, a muggle, passed away from an illness when I was only a girl. I blamed myself. Because I was a witch, I thought I could've saved him. Unfortunately, magic doesn't work that way. Just because we want something, doesn't make it happen. From then on, I swore I'd learnhow to cure anyone of anymalady-OUCH!"
At that moment, the phial in Poppy's hand shattered under her intensified grip, and blood trickled down her arm, flowing from the precise cuts.
"Here, allow me."
Phoebe pulled a small leather pouch from her robes and poured a couple of drops of clear liquid into one hand. With the other, she drew her wand, and shouted "Accio, glass!" Once the glass was removed from Poppy's hand, Phoebe placed her potion hand onto Poppy's.
"Thank-you, child."
"Please," the student said with a sly grin. "Call me Phoebe."
Returning the smile, Poppy mended the smashed phial and placed it back on the shelf before asking, "Well, Phoebe, considering your skepticism of my initial answer, is there an underlying reason youwant to be a healer?"
Phoebe halted in thought with her hand resting in midair, grasping onto a phial. Before she could answer, however, the doors to the infirmary swung open with a "boom," and Hagrid the half-giant came panting into the wide hall. In his arms lay a limp figure, marred with extensive cuts, bruises, and burns and soaked in its own blood. In fact, Phoebe wouldn't have even identified the creature as a human had Hagrid not immediately exclaimed, "The boy's losing blood, fast, Madame Pomfrey! Found him out in the Forest!"
"Who is he, Hagrid?!" queried Poppy, but Harid could only shake his head.
Remembering herself, Phoebe blurted, "Whoever he is, we can't leave him like this!"
Springing to action, the healer and her student ushered Hagrid to one of the newly-cleaned beds who dropped him unceremoniously on the bed, staining it with blood and dark pus.
After looking down at the boy with pity, Hagrid bellowed, "I'll go look for any other 'uns," and stomped out of the hall.
At this angle, Phoebe, who stood barely above 5 feet, could at last clearly see the newcomer in full sickening view. And such a sickeningly pathetic creature was he. Aside from his current injuries, numerous scars already decorated his paper-white skin. The boy's face seemed older, but his malnourished limbs indicated otherwise. Regardless of the considerable amount of muscle present, he had barely any fat, and veins popped out through the skin everywhere, indicating hunger and thirst. In every other respect, he was under-grown. He couldn't have stood over five feet and a few inches and weighed 130 pounds soaking wet. His hair, while long, was falling out of his scalp in irregular clumps, his blood-shot eyes continuously gazed forward, wide in shock, and, most horrifyingly, his mouth had been sewed shut.
They prioritized for the situation by taking a muggle blood-pump out of a specially-marked black case, replacing his body's blood supply with multiple batches of on-the-fly replicating potion. They also attempted to inject the stranger with a muggle pain-killer since they couldn't feed him a potion orally, but he refused it. Next, they began the arduous process of stripping off the young man's already tattered clothing. Some of the severely burnt sections of the clothing fell off the body while others had to be carefully snipped with a cutting charm and pulled carefully out of deep cuts, doing all this without inflicting further damage to the nerves or tendons. This was exactly what Phoebe had been training for during the past four years of her education.
Of course, Phoebe, a short fifth year at Hogwarts, knew she would be exposed to this type of experience, although, not this soon. Furthermore, not many other students or teachers expected such performance from her either. Her pale complexion, deep, sapphire-blue eyes, straight, white teeth, small, round nose, sparsely freckled countenance, minuscule frame, and sleek, black, shoulder-length bob hair did not display the character of someone who could stand the sight of blood, much less aid Madame Pomfrey in such a critical case.
Already, some of the flesh had begun to rot and had to be cut away by Madame Pomfrey who hesitantly resorted to a vile-sounding spell Phoebe had never heard before. As Madame Pomfrey was preparing the next step of the process, Phoebe was given the unpleasant task of using a scalpel to remove the stitch from the stranger's mouth. She expected a lot of moaning or even screaming once the majority of the stitch had been removed, but throughout the entire procedure, the boy lay silent against his pillow, clinging to the bed-sheets with an occasional abrupt flinch.
After the body had been stripped completely and every external injury had been purged of infection via complicated spells, Madame Pomfrey insured that the boy was no longer in his former critical state and wrapped his entire body in gauze lined with essence of dittany. However, the magical herb seemingly had no positive effect on the patient who finally began releasing eerie moans. Poppy stood back to take a breath away from the rotting flesh lying in the bin beside the bed.
"At least he's awake. It's the sleepers you've got to watch out for...hard to tell whether they're just under or on the verge of death."
Phoebe slumped back into a chair, wiping sweat from her forehead with her sleeve, trying not to use her hand and wiping blood and loose skin on her face but failing miserably.
"Why isn't the dittany working on him?" asked Phoebe.
"Well, dear, it seems like he's been made immune to the potion for some reason. He has to have to been given a counter-potion over an extended period of time. It's still in his system, whereas any potion I can think of only has a lasting effect of a few minutes."
"Is that why he refused the pain-killer, Mada- Poppy? He knew it wouldn't do him any good?"
"I suppose. However, I do not think that question is as important right now."
"What are the important questions?"
"Well, for example, who is this young man, where did he come from, and who did this to him?"
At that moment, the strange boy who had arrived in the dead of night fell silent...asleep...escaped from the pain and terror of consciousness...