Generation After Regeneration
Everyone just sat rather still and silent after Headmaster Dumbledore finished speaking. His closing remarks made it all sound like a court proceeding. Fawkes' urgent concern and trilling were the only sounds in the room.
"How, then, would you have us help, Old Friend?" Pavel asked, in a compassionate, non accusatory tone.
"Well," Albus chuckled, "Fawkes has been unceasing in his complaints, that his tears cannot seem to stem the progress of my affliction, along with his castigation of my foolishness."
Fawkes seemingly understood all, as he uttered a much louder cry, and nearly pecked at Albus' ear from his shoulder perch.
"I thought perhaps Severus, with his healing skills, might help stem the spread of this curse, as it is progressing up my arm at a rather alarming rate," Albus said, for the first time pulling up his billowy robe sleeves to expose the gray streaks gradually working their way up his forearm.
Snape stepped over, to kneel next to him and cradle his hand and arm in his own. The damage was extensive and reeked of dark magic. "Merlin!" he breathed, in shocked amazement. "Silly bugger," he whispered, mostly to himself. "What'd you go messing with such things, for? You knew better!" he muttered, as he'd pulled out his wand seeking to understand the nature of the curse and damage, hoping to remove it, or at least arrest and contain it. "John!" he called, looking up, "please come check this out with me!" he requested, knowing Ivan's magic of body healing was stronger than his own.
John complied, but said, "I can help, certainly," after a few moments diagnosing the situation. "But I cannot just 'remove' or 'heal' this. Much of what I do for my own wounds, or Papa's is based on 'blood magic' we share by our natures. It won't apply to Uncle Albus. And I can heal otherwise healthy tissue that's been traumatized, like when you fought the Basilisk... but this is cursed flesh. I can bolster the resistance of the flesh surrounding it. That should slow down the progress of this creeping death. But I can't seem to affect the cursed flesh itself. I'm sorry... I'll do my best. Perhaps Papa can deal with the curse?" he asked, looking up at Pavel.
"All right," Pavel began. Let's get a little better working situation here, shall we?" and with a wave of Pavel's wand, Albus found himself reclining on a hospital bed, his cursed arm supported by a rolling surgical tray, in the midst of what appeared to be a miniature operating theatre. Those who had been seated still were, in an elevated semi-circle surrounding the opposite side of Albus' bed, from where Severus, John, and now Pavel were examining the arm. Albus' robe sleeve had been removed, so any progress of the degeneration could be clearly seen. Fawkes had remained perched on Albus' shoulder, now also gaining a bit of support from the pillows propping him up.
Keeping a part of his mind yet firmly fixed on Harry, who seemed to be yet melded in some strange way with Fawkes, Pavel placed his hands on either side of Albus' hand and arm, being careful not to come into direct contact with it. His hands glowed golden, creating a nimbus surrounding the arm and hand, as his eyes closed and his face took on a slight grimace as though tasting something sour. After a moment, the glow faded and Pavel opened his eyes, withdrawing his hands.
"That's a very intense curse, and yes, I can remove it. Two things, first... One, I'd like to have Bill Weasley join us, since his profession has become a focus on removal of curses, and this will provide him a valuable experience. Two, Ivan, please have Oxsana join us, so that I have a strong Mind Mage here to back me up. I'm not saying it's necessary or critical, but this will be intense and it's just proper form that I engage a backup in case of unusual need."
Ivan dispatched Dobby to see if Bill Weasley would join them, as he mind-spoke to Oxsana, and in a few minutes both had arrived. In the meantime, Albus kept waiting for the "other shoe to drop", half expecting to be castigated by Pavel for having such a disastrous lapse of judgment. He could, within himself, tell that this curse was of deadly strength. Only his utmost efforts were holding it at bay, and left on its own the curse would have killed him within days.
It seemed no time before both Bill and Oxsana were present with them, and had been briefed on the situation.
Pavel made clear that he intended only to unravel the curse, using his skill in Prime... the arcanum encompassing the essential nature of Magic itself, along with some unwinding of Fate. This curse had been fated to be a critical component of the circumstances leading to the demise of Albus Dumbledore. That was about to be unbound, and in so loosing its destiny, make the curse more amenable to removal.
"William?" Pavel smiled at young Weasley, "We have far too valuable an opportunity here for you to take part in unbinding this curse, for me to ignore your chosen career path and sequester from you. I'd like to make clear that by no means would you ever attempt this on your own. Please note, as skilled and strong as I myself am, I have a great deal of support here and am specifically asking Oxsana to monitor my own well being and condition while we do this. John, Oxsana, Harry... frankly everyone in this room... can attest to you how serious I am about minimizing risk when doing something dangerous. THIS... messing with this kind of deadly creeping curse, is dangerous."
"Pavel?" Albus interrupted. "I don't want you doing anything dangerous for me. This was my own fault, consequence of my own decision. I'm resigned to whatever outcome results. Please don't..."
"My dear friend," Pavel smiled, "It is far too late in our lives to tell me not to do dangerous things. I LIVE doing dangerous things. But I will not do anything without weighing the risks and minimizing them. William, here, has determined to build his career doing dangerous things as well. Please allow me to show him how to do so minimizing his own. Oxsana?" he said, turning to his god daughter, "Please monitor my self-awareness and be prepared either to alert me if something seems wrong, or pull me out of wherever I may be lost. All right?"
"Yes, Papa Pavel, I understand," she nodded, knowing this "tethered lifeguard" posture of holding an anchor in present space/time.
"Right," Pavel said brightly, turning to William. "Now, we've not worked together before, I know..." and he paused right here, looking away vacantly, then said, "Heavens, I sound like a stage magician... Anyvay, may I have limited access to your mind, to show you the strands of magic active here in a vay you are not accustomed to seeing them?"
Bill nodded as he said, "Certainly, Professor. Go ahead."
"Ah, so trusting you are..." Pavel chuckled, as he moved two chairs over alongside the tray table supporting Albus' cursed hand and arm. He had already banished Albus sleeves, exposing the arm up to just inches below the shoulder. "Now, William... or do you prefer Bill? Or Mr. Weasley, for that matter? How do you prefer that I address you?"
"Oh, please... Mr. Weasley is still my father to me. Bill is fine, or William. Most people call me Bill," he smiled.
"Very well then, Bill... look here upon the Headmaster's arm vith your natural eyes, ya?" and he waited until he could see that Bill had focused entirely on this image. "And now, let yourself see the flow of supernal energy, of magic, within and around the hand and arm." And so saying, he insinuated his own view of the arm into Bill's mind, allowing his magesights to enhance the view. He highlighted the Prime magesight, so that the curse glowed a rather sickly green like an overlay on the image, reaching... or trying to reach... into the healthier flesh up towards the elbow.
"Now," Pavel began, as the two of them hovered over Albus' extremity like surgeons in an operating theatre, "you see as my hands bracket the outer boundaries of the curse field? Yes?" as actions matched words and Pavel extended one hand below Albus' hand, and the other hand above the elbow.
"Yes, Professor," Bill replied, as everyone watched Pavel's hands begin their golden glow.
"Goot. Now, you bracket the sides off his arm vith your hands, keepingk your distance. Do NOT, under any circumstances, directly touch the flesh. Go... now..." Pavel instructed, as he watched Bill put his hands the same distance from the forearm, at 90 degrees angle from his own. "Goot. Now, I am going to grasp your hand, see if you can flow your own magic, your authority and determination for good, your love for the Headmaster, and your 'sternness' NOT to permit harm... see if you can flow your 'righteous indignation' through your hands on behalf of the Headmaster. You will feel the harmonics vith me, when you get it attuned rightly..."
While the spoken words made little sense, Bill's head nodded slightly as his mind, melded with Pavel's had an advantage for intuiting meaning from the words. His brow furrowed a bit as he tried to concentrate, hoping by force of will to take the authority that could cast out this curse, but to no avail. Then, he found himself getting frustrated and angry at his own failure, then beginning to believe he could not succeed and was useless here.
Pavel broke into his thoughts, using mind speak, "No, William. Do not think of giving up. You are very close to having this. You are trying to do it by vorking hard, and that is all that's wrong. You cannot overcome this kind of curse by greater strength of your anger or your will. You need to relax a bit. Look at the Headmaster's face, rather than his hand and arm. Remember and recall all the times you've been together, think of how when you vere a small boy, he'd lift you onto his lap at the Burrow. Of Christmases, of your years at Hogwarts and holidays. Think, remember, FEEL how much he loves you and you him... let that build..."
As Bill complied and Pavel assisted him in becoming relaxed and lost in the memory of the lifelong love between them... Bill's hands began also to take on a golden glow similar to Pavel's. The Professor looked on approvingly as gently he said aloud, "Now, Villiam, shift your gaze from the Headmaster's face, down to the curse. Severus," he addressed the Potioins master without looking up or away from the arm. "Do you have a Bezoar on you?"
"Always, sir," Snape replied, quickly removing it from an inner pocket of his robes.
"Goot. Please use your wand to levitate it carefully to the back of the Headmaster's hand, if you would." They watched the fibrous stone glide into place atop the shriveled flesh of the Headmaster. "Thank you, Ivan. Now, would you please prepare a Stasis Box ultimately to receive that when we finish? Thank you," he continued, as John levitated a small jewelry sized box off his father's top shelf, and added some warding charms to the protections already in place.
"Now, Villiam, you can see the outline of the curse field before us, yes?"
Bill nodded, not taking his eyes off the Headmaster's arm.
"And you can also see the fields of supernal force extending from your own hands towards the Headmaster, yes?"
Again, Bill nodded.
"Goot. Now, I vant you to extend your own force to press upon the boundaries of the curse. Try to compress it, pushing it towards the Bezoar. Do you understand? Do not move your hands physically. Just increase the pressure of your magic towards the curse, forcing it towards the stone. Can you do this?"
Bill nodded again, as Pavel watched the primal glow from Bill's hands brighten and extend further towards the aura of the curse.
"That's very good, Villiam. Now, you will push the curse field towards and into the stone, while I shall pull it. You may move your hands to get a better angle, as you will. Just do not move them closer... but rotate around the field however you need to, just keep your distance from it. Understand?"
"Yes, Professor..." Bill answered, as his concentration never wavered from the task at hand.
"Very good. Now... ve do this..." as Pavel also fell silent to focus on the task. Not only did he want to contain the curse within the Bezoar, but he wanted to allow Bill to "feel" the process, the magic involved in "manhandling" the very edges of a deadly curse, at the same time not exposing himself or anyone else to the dangers of direct contact with it. Like so many teachable moments, Pavel would have been far safer and it would have been simpler, just to do this by himself. But such opportunities rarely presented themselves. This was a very high order of stored curse with a sophisticated trigger. Any curse strong enough to defeat the best efforts of Albus, Minerva, and Severus combined... not to mention Ivan... was a rare and formidable spell indeed. Such experience could teach Bill in mere minutes, what could otherwise take years to learn. Such moments seemed well worth the trouble, to Pavel.
Pavel did, indeed, focus a "primal void", a "vacuum of magic" into the center of the Bezoar. That was not difficult. But at the same time, he held a shell of prime shielding in a 360 degree sphere around the affected area, guarding against any bit of it escaping their quarantine. He had no doubt such a failsafe was built into so clever a curse. So he watched, in a myriad of frequencies beyond that of the major curse itself, for any fractal bits or pseudopoda of gentive material to escape.
Bill was skilled, but even better, he was intense and highly focused. His work with the goblins had already taught him much, including the single minded mental discipline necessary for such work. His will was strong, his tenacity admirable, and his love for the old man was overwhelming. He was actually, without knowing it or meaning to, adding a substantial dose of his own vitality and supernal energy into his "push", in the vain attempt to revitalize the dead tissues before them.
Pavel would not distract him with correction. It would do the lad no harm. Bill would simply need some rest and nourishment when they finished, but that seemed likely for all of them, regardless.
Pavel mind spoke to the assembled company, "You are all welcome to enter in to the vision Villiam and I are sharing. If you do so, please simply observe, rather than try to help. That could complicate things."
With this invitation, everyone was able to see the greenish cast of the curse being forced down Albus' forearm towards his wrist and hands, as the other edge was driven up from his fingertips towards his wrist. Slowly, but surely, the seeming mist began to enter into the Bezoar, until no green showed anywhere else. Albus hand still carried the grayish black hues of death, but there was no further undulation or interference of the curse trying to expand.
Finally, Pavel spoke again, "Very well done, Villiam. Now, let us dispose of this..." and Pavel's wand shot into his hand as ever so gently he levitated the stone from back of the Headmaster's hand, floating it into the Stasis Box John had prepared for it. Once the stone settled inside, John secured the lid on top, and sealed it up.
Bill tried very hard not to be melodramatic or make any big deal, but once the curse had been taken from his control, he'd sat back with a heavy sigh in a state of near collapse. He felt like a rag doll, suddenly exhausted. Quietly, Pavel rose from his seat, poured a cup of tea with light sugar and a touch of cream - as he'd seen Bill prepare for himself a time or two, along with a napkin and two chocolate biscuits, and serve them to Bill saying, "That vas wery vell done, Villiam. Congratulations, you haff done something very few wizards can claim. Thank you very much for your help."
"You're welcome, Professor. I've never seen anything like that before," Bill said, realizing that he didn't need that seat anymore. Others may be more useful for the moment to the Headmaster. So, he stood up and took his refreshments over to a comfortable chair nearer the fireplace, to let Severus sit and examine the arm now.
Minerva asked, "What are you planning with that Bezoar, Paul? Couldn't you have destroyed the curse without containing it?"
"We could have, yes. But it is of such rare power and quality, I thought it better to offer it to Professor Flitwick for study, and then perhaps as an artifact or training aid for advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts. It is a variant of the Arvada curse, made into a focused hex with a trigger. It is exquisite work, and if anyone else among his followers is capable of casting such a thing, it were better studied by Hogwarts and the Ministry, than simply lost."
"I see. Well, what next? I presume our next order of business is to restore health and vibrancy to Albus' hand, is it not?" she carried on, in a brusque business-like tone, to mask her deep worry and concern.
"Yes, Papa!" Harry walked over, as Fawkes came to rest on his shoulder. "We've got to fix Albus!" Harry said in a bit louder tone than his normal voice, staggering just a bit as he walked. Both Professors McGonagall and Snape looked at him a bit shocked and affronted at his referring to the Headmaster as "Albus", but John spoke before either could reprimand him.
"Harry," John blurted, "is not entirely himself this morning. He means no offense, Headmaster."
Albus just smiled with great kindness, "I understand, John. But for Harry, dear friends, I may yet be suffering in my office. He and Fawkes seem to have some link at the moment, and he seems a bit... er... distracted?"
"I believe a more accurate description is probably that he is a bit... intoxicated," Pavel replied. "No, no, friends... Harry is not under chemical influence, nor anything precisely of his own doing. He is caught up in a process of transformation, a magical metamorphosis, and while he is not exactly 'out of control' by any mean at the moment, neither is he able to focus in an entirely normal manner either. He is in a transitional period we call "Awakening" at the moment, and has just returned from discovering his Watchtower. He returned screaming that Albus was in danger, begging that we go rescue him. You have been with us since then."
John said, "The problem here is that this damage is beyond my ability to heal on another. Like injuries caused by a curse or hex are often resistant to medical or healers cures for normal wizards... THIS curse... THIS damage... is even beyond my abilities to heal. It will take considerably more power than my own to regenerate this tissue."
Pavel stood thoughtfully for a moment. "Harry? What do you think? Right now, for the next few hours or next few minutes, you are in a unique moment of your life. You stand as if in the center of an iris closing after gazing upon the very heart of magic itself, the pure supernal. That is why you are a bit 'unbalanced' at the moment. You are intoxicated, inebriated, upon the pure essence of magic. That will pass. It will pass quickly. But, unless I miss my guess looking upon you, you have been selected by the Life Arcanum among others... and you may have access, for this brief time, to sufficient focused life magic to heal the Headmaster. How do you feel about this? What does your intuition tell you? Right at this moment?"
Harry looked up at his father with wide and trusting eyes. Then he looked at Fawkes. Then he smiled. "What do I feel? What do I want to do right now?"
"Yes, Harry," Pavel nodded.
"I want to fix Albus. I love Albus. Albus hurts, and I don't want him to hurt. I want him well, and whole. Please let me fix Albus, Papa. I know we can," Harry replied. His tone was simple and childlike, but not moronic.
Pavel's mind raced furiously, considering hundreds of possibilities, measuring risks, rewards, and probable outcomes. Finally, he came to a decision.
"Albus?" Pavel asked. "I'm inclined to take advantage of so unique an opportunity, and trust to Harry's heart and love for you to allow him to attempt your healing. You deserve to know, however, that he is swathed in 'wild magic' at the moment. I have no way to predict, or perhaps even to reverse, whatever outcome befalls. He is immersed in the Primal Wild right now. There is risk."
Albus reached out towards Harry with his good hand, calling him over to his side. "Harry? I absolutely trust to your love and your heart on this. If you can heal this useless hand for me, you go right ahead."
"You sure, Albus?" Harry asked. "We only want you well, and strong, and healthy... ok?"
"OK, Harry," Albus answered, "go right ahead."
While this conversation was going on, Harry had begun to glow... at first a dim wash seeming to bleach the color from him... but by the time Albus finished giving his permission, Harry was glowing a bright golden, as everyone backed away slowly, unsure of what was to transpire. But then Harry and Fawkes looked at one another, then seemed to join wingtip to hand... then each reached out to embrace Albus wingtip and hand to hand.
The golden glow emitting from Harry, then Harry and Fawkes, grew to envelope Albus as well. A Phoenix trill came forth from Fawkes, as the golden glow grew ever brighter and larger, and as the speed and frequency of the Phoenix Song increased, the golden globe containing the three of them appeared to spin at an ever increasing rate until...
Suddenly, there was a mighty crash and thundering report... as the golden globe exploded into a million rays of light... and both Harry and Fawkes slumped to the floor, senseless.
Headmaster Professor Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards... apparently was no more. He was gone, disappeared. It appeared he had been tragically incinerated, immolated to naught more than a pile of ash that sat atop the bed he'd rested on. Quietly nested atop those ashes sat a number of magical talismans and artifacts, and... none other than the Elder Wand.
It is almost impossible to describe the mix of reactions and emotions in that room at that moment. Everyone was deeply concerned at Harry's loss of consciousness. Everyone was shocked and dismayed at the apparent demise of the Headmaster. But along with all that, came the utter astonishment of realizing they were in the presence of the Elder Wand... that reputedly could not be defeated by any other, making its wielder effectively invincible.
Pavel had immediately knelt alongside Harry, scooping him up and carrying him to a couch, probing his mind gently to determine his condition. He breathed a huge sigh of relief as he announced, "Harry will be fine. He is, of course, a bit played out. But he is fine, healthy, and... apparently... quite happy, indeed."
"Happy?" Minerva McGonagall turned to stare at them in consternation, "Does the boy realize he's just blasted he Headmaster to Kingdom Come?"
"Um, no, Minerva. That's exactly what he seems so happy about. He doesn't consider the Headmaster dead, or even harmed. In fact..." he said, as Fawkes began to stir, and trill in his own quietly happy way... "the only clear thought Harry keeps repeating about the Headmaster is that 'he'll be fine now... perfect... this is his Burning Day.' I don't understand..." Pavel wore a rare look of confusion on his face.
"His... 'Burning Day'?" Minerva repeated in a tone of confused puzzlement. Then, suddenly a look of comprehension took over her features as she turned back towards the ashes to say, "Oh... my... goodness... Could he possibly mean?..."
And just then, a stirring in the ashes drew every eye in the room, as the very floor trembled for a moment, the mound of ash grew significantly, then fell away to the sides to reveal...
A baby. A human baby, now lay covered in the ashes with magical items draped about his little naked person. The Elder Wand was now grasped in a chubby little fist, as blue twinkling eyes opened upon them all, and the newborn infant chorkled his greetings to the world.
Fawkes instantly took flight towards the baby, perching alongside him, but just far enough away not to be grabbed by a curious little hand.
"Gentlemen?" Minerva began, in an awed voice, "I believe the Headmaster has returned. Pavel, have you any nappies here?"
And no one said a word...
A/N I'd love it if you take a moment to review. I appreciate your enjoyment of these stories so much! Feel free to comment, question, critique, or offer ideas. Grace to you, Gentle Reader. Thank you for being here - Mort