A/N: Hi everyone. I hope you're doing well. Well, this is the final push. Not stopping until this series has ended so I can begin my next one. I've also updated all previous chapters to fix minor grammar mistakes that some of you have kindly pointed out. You guys are the best!

Just a side note. The recent reviews make a good point in saying that Ariana was extremely carefree and trusts too easily in some of the previous chapters. However, remember that those events occurred in conjunction or near to her stay with the Potters, where she was basically spoiled rotten for the first time in her life (thus the lowering of her guard). Also to address the note on Ariana's obliviousness to puberty, its not as if she isn't aware of it, it's just that she has a great many other things on her mind (its not really on her list of important things to address).

Hope this clears things up!


Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Harry Potter.

Chapter 33

Fear.

It is a matter that holds no true form, weaving into the hearts of all. A formless creature trapped in a cage made of flesh, bathed in blood and pure adrenaline. It's the feeling of tightening in your chest. It's the way that when you open your lips, no sound can make it past, or the way it robs you of your senses and replaces it with something that makes your muscle contract and eyes widen in dread.

This was exactly how Ariana James Potter was currently feeling.

After a few seconds of nervous fidgeting and breathless waiting, she quickly realized that the reddish-brown furred Centaur that faced her was refusing to answer her question, so she tried once again.

"How long was I unconscious for?" she repeated faintly, speaking so softly that another decibel lower would've rendered her inaudible.

After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, the equine-like creature finally responded, uttering through the stillness of the evening. A strange look of melancholy lay within the mysterious centaur's eyes as it spoke ever so solemnly.

"I suppose in human terms, you've slumbered for nearly… twelve months."

Any traces of warmth in Ariana's body abandoned her as quickly as came, feeling as if the world had suddenly gotten old and she was the only person left. From the obvious changes on her pubescent body it was no lie that she had been gone for some time. Only a while ago she'd been laughing gaily with Albus in his office.

It occurred to her in a flash that this must be a nightmare, and perhaps she ought to play along. Even after wave upon wave of rationality hit her like waves upon a rock, she refused to accept what was happening, as if the world would magically right itself. She clenched her fists in balls and shut her eyes, trying hard to conjure up happy memories, ones of joy and laughter, but none refused to emerge from the dark recesses of her mind.

In an attempt to quell the furious beating of her heart, she took deep, shuddering breaths – but froze at the last second as an old fear violently took hold of her. In times like these, dark voices of hate and suffering would slink stealthily into her mindscape, plaguing her with ghoulish thoughts that weren't her own. Trembling, she held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut as she waited for the whispers to invariably herald their unholy presence.

Five seconds passed. Then ten. Then twenty. A full minute of tense silence elapsed before she couldn't hold her breath any longer and was forced to let out a breathless gasp before greedily gulping in cool, fresh air.

"The voices… where are they?" Ariana breathed heavily, her chest heaving as eyes darting suspiciously to her left and right at anything and everything in the tent, "Where are they?"

A presence she had all forgotten in her fit of madness behind her made itself known once again.

"You hear voices, Child?"

Ariana started from the sound and whirled around to face the other occupant in the tent.

"Yes… sometimes," she hesitantly admitted to the beast, seeing no reason to lie.

The Centaur had a strange look on its face, "Everything is as the prophecies foretold," it murmured softly to itself, "And now that you have awoken, your training can begin."

As Ariana sat there etiolated and confused about the situation, why the voices weren't whispering in her mind, and why everything somehow looked different, a torch suddenly flickered to life within the dusty recesses of her mind. She gasped in shock as she felt the muscles in her body suddenly go stiff and lock in place, causing her to unceremoniously flop back down onto her straw bed like a plastic doll.

Something powerful began to shift within her head, almost as if the endless cords of neurons and synapses in her brain were rewiring themselves. Alongside that feeling, she also experienced a weird twisting in her breast. Her heart felt as if it was gyrating and rotating with such angular velocity that it could rip a hole through her body. She soon realized that it was actually her magical core, one that was now pulsating and fluctuating erratically.

After a full minute of writhing in her bed with locked teeth and clenched fists, the strange episode passed, and with it, breathed forth to life an entirely new person.

When Ariana first entered this new, strange place nearly two and a half years ago, she was a tortured, broken girl who often jumped at her own shadow. Many months down the road, she then came to know family, which in turn bestowed upon her blessing of peace, acceptance and love. Now, after her second resurrection, her metamorphosis, she had unknowingly destroyed the darkness that was lurking in the depths of her body.

This new person had thoughts were hers, goals that were hers, and decisions that were hers. And although the strangeness of it disturbed her, it was also one which offered some comfort. For the very first time in her misbegotten existence, in worlds both past and present, she felt totally in control.

"What is your name?" the young girl said slowly, testing out each word with her tongue. She had found it difficult to speak at the start, as if her tongue was tied in a knot and unloosening with each passing second, "Where are my clothes? Where am I? What is the exact date?" came forth a profusion of questions, each quicker than the last.

Her voice, one that was almost always tremulous, excitable, or emotional, was now calm, cool and calculated.

The Centaur hid a look at the rapid change in mood and behaviour before clearing its throat and replying with absolute clarity. "I am known as Ophelia, young one. I am the Morning Star, the Attendant of the Heart, the Seeker of Desire, and the leader of the clan of Venus," the creature's voice sounded oddly young and was one which obviously belied her real age, as proof from the numerous wrinkles that adorned her face in waves.

"As to your second question–"

"Absolutely fascinating," Ariana interrupted as she tapped her chin, "I didn't know Centaurs lived in clans which followed the celestial bodies of the Solar System, no book I ever read on them ever specified that," she hummed loudly, tilting her head, "Are there any differences in culture between the respective clans?"

Ophelia opened and closed her mouth a few times before she spoke, "This is certainly an unusual one," she murmured under her breath, wondering if it was normal for human younglings to act this carefree upon reawakening from a year-long slumber. She steadily gazed down the young now-teenage girl before continuing.

"I shall answer all questions of lesser import when due, young one. But for now, please hearken unto my voice."

"Nearly thirty full moons ago, many of my kind were suddenly overwhelmed by a tide of prophecies. Scryers, soothsayers, haruspices and oracles alike all reported the same theme in their respective esoterica: the restoration of our people, the once proud race of Centaurs. And it wasn't just us who were freed from our shackles, but all the magical races around the world as well."

"What do you–" Ariana tried to interrupt but Ophelia carried on as if she hadn't spoken.

"Man is born free; but is everywhere in chains. You've probably heard that age-old adage. One that purports that humans are gifted with free will at birth but the cage that is society dictates your every move and thought. To the world of Man that saying is often metaphorical rather than figurative, is it not? However, to us, those who share this world alongside you, the Centaurs, Vampires, Werewolves, Pixies, the House-elves, and many more who live, breathe and stand beside your kind, that saying means something else entirely."

The wizened Centaur lowered her massive head and gazed heavily at the young girl, "Do you know why we, the Centaurs and all other creatures, live undisturbed in the Forbidden Forest?"

"Not really," Ariana replied hesitantly, only after a pause to ascertain it wasn't a rhetorical question.

"We live in relative peace under the whim of a single individual, Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Now, do you know what will happen to us when his lifeforce is eventually extinguished in the unending passage of time? Do you know what his death bodes for my people?"

Ariana shook her head silently.

"We will either be hunted or enslaved, as proven by all other Centaur populations around the world. Even the mightiest of beasts, the elder race of dragons, have been condemned to servitude. They were first kept as potent weapons, then kept as pets, then eventually they were even used in sickening tournaments for the basal pleasure of Man. In the midst of such avarice and rapacity, it was not long before nearly all the dragons been had captured and broken – first their bodies, then their minds. In essence, us sentient creatures of the magical world are born free at birth but are literally in chains everywhere."

Ariana's mouth was dry. So focused was she on saving wizards and witches that she had been blindsided by all those which comprised and made the wizarding world what it actually was. She suddenly felt very small. In her previous life, her ambitions and focus had only been centralized around taking down the current Dark Lord. Her second life however, had changed her viewpoints dramatically.

A few months down the road in collusion with a younger Albus, relevantly gentle persuasion and behind-the-books agreements with Ministry officials, her ideologies on saving the wizarding world soon grew to be much larger than she initially imagined. From initially endeavouring to stop a single man with small-scale skirmishes and guerrilla warfare, she then had her sights turned to politics and the economy.

Her schemes were indeed as grand as she envisioned, ones that including gentrification of the wizarding world – specifically Knockturn Alley, in an effort to reduce the overabundance of latent criminality, amongst other various reasons.

Latent criminality refers to the ratio of unregistered crimes to registered crimes, which was abhorrently apparent when looking at the slums of the magical world. How many times has an Auror glanced down a dark alley, only to turn away in apathy? How many murders and kidnappings have occurred in brightly lit alleyways, only for the witnesses and bystanders to turn away in disinterest?

Although seemingly unimportant to the stability of a country, latent criminality is an indicator of dangerous undercurrents that can eventually lead to destruction of a society. Petty thefts, illegal transportation of magical goods, forgery, numerical manipulations in bookkeeping, and bodily harm are just the start of the atrocities at occur at the lower echelons of the socio-economic spectrum.

The worst part is, the people living in Knockturn Alley themselves were turning a blind eye to these happenings, for they considered this merely to be part and parcel of living under the poverty line. This issue stemmed from having a low level of trust with the Ministry of Magic, an indifferent view to misery and suffering, and an unwillingness to make society a better place as a whole.

By tearing down Knockturn Alley and rebuilding it anew, the Order had hoped to bring this shadow society to the surface, where the hidden issues of hunger and hardship could be shown as clear as day to the wizarding world, and hopefully, to also inspire kind-hearted wizards and witches to donate a few galleons to those in need of help.

The plan also included introducing a Laissez-faire system, a governing system that promotes entrepreneurship to kickstart the dwindling economy. After that, the Order aimed to grant women the right of suffrage to stymie the growing danger of sufficientarianism, a doctrine that often leads to a denial of an individuals' rights, equality and sufficiency, in a two-for-one blow to fix the wizarding world's anachronistic ways on how it regarded its people.

Auxiliary plans that were to be put in motion after the threat of the Dark Lord had been disposed with – which the Order hoped was sooner rather than later – were the ban of child marriages, abolishing neonatal blood-binding rituals, and creating a new division in the Ministry that deals with the care and protection of children – one that was entirely absent in the wizarding world.

Needless to say, the Order of the Phoenix in the First War was extremely skilled at playing the political game and theorizing socio-economic solutions. This was perhaps the reason why nearly all of its members were wiped out in on the battlefield by Death Eaters. Most of them were not fighters. Their true abilities lie in orating atop podiums, pushing forward policies, or casting their votes as they lobby for changes. This was where the Order in the Second War differed, for they solely leaned towards militaristic solutions.

However, it was at this very moment that Ariana realized that she had been thinking of nothing but humans the whole time. Had she thought of the future of Werewolves with the advent of Wolfsbane? Had she thought of integrating Centaurs into the wizarding society after their source of protection had faded? Had she even thought of inducting other magical tribes back into civilization, just others once did long ago for the Goblin race?

The answer, she knew, was a resounding no.

Saving people was her raison d'être, just as Hermione had once told her a long time ago. But the words that had just issued forth from the Centaur before her was slowly unravelling the threads that kept her upright, crushing her will to persevere as more and more issues piled atop her already burdened soul. After all, she was just a young witch, and what can a single girl do in times of such madness and chaos?

Despite such self-fabricated grievances, the young Potter heiress forgot something very important. She was nothing but herself now, and the hero complex that was ingrained within every generation of Potters suddenly reignited – no, reignited was the wrong word, for the fire had always been lit, guised as a nascent spark under the brazier of her heart.

"I will change all of this," Ariana promised solemnly with eyes ablaze, feeling a strange thrum in her chest as she uttered a line she had said one too many times, "I can change all of this".

"Truly? Would you truly take up that burden? Would you sacrifice your happiness of those of others?" came a disbelieving voice.

"Yes," Ariana instantly responded. The voice that was coming out of her mouth was hers, no one else's but hers. "Up to last year, I didn't have the faintest idea what true happiness felt like. But after meeting my real family for the first time, I finally experienced it… and it was everything I imagined it to be and more. However, I am still willing to give everything up. Mine, for the world."

The Centaur's eyes were wise and tempered with age, eyeing her as a mother would to a wayward child, "Such hubris. Such vanity. Such wistful fantasies for one so young," Ophelia replied critically, "Are you implying that you are somehow responsible for all the wrongdoings of this world? That you alone are the only one that is able to restore normality to this wretched world?"

Ariana unconsciously flinched before deflating slightly, "I-I didn't mean it like that. I just –"

"Prove it to me then, show me your resolve, your fortitude, your spirit. Show me the Fire."

Ariana had no clue what the Centaur was talking about but somehow knew deep down what the creature was referring to. She instinctively held up a hand upwards in the air and summoned a small, swirling ball of coruscant starlight. The young girl gasped in shock from the action as the characteristic feeling of unpredictability was now all but absent; she was for the first time in total control of her secondary source of magic.

"The kindling of Fire," Ophelia breathed in awe, her board chest heaving at the sight, "The naysayers and their litanies of ash and dust are finally proven wrong. It truly exists then."

Ariana furrowed her brow as she banished the sphere of energy, "Why do you call it fire? I was told by someone… extremely knowledgeable that this type of energy is called Old Magic. It only arises from forces endemic to the flow of nature."

Ophelia snorted in amusement, the lines on her face showing centuries upon centuries of experience, "Do not cite this type of magic to me, girl," she rumbled loudly, "I was there when it was written."

Ariana's eyes lit up in excitement from the reply, "Can you tell me more about it then?" she chattered excitedly, "I've found that when using this sort of magic my core…"

Thus, the young witch and the sentient beast talked deep into the night on a topic a select few in the wizarding world were privy to. Ariana eventually revealed that she could only heal injuries with her Old Magic, something she had concluded after countless hours of experimentation and precariously balancing magical exhaustion against the extremity of the tests she invented. Specifically, she could only heal minor wounds that were inflicted upon herself, not on other people… and certainly nothing too severe like cursed wounds – as she found out the hard way.

Of course, even though she was talking incessantly with unfeigned animation, she also very carefully covered up the fact that she was a time-travelling, hero-prophesized, gender-swapped, age-regressed wizard from the future. Nothing too important.

To Ophelia however, this entire case seemed completely bizarre. She had concluded independently that the Magic of Old had somehow bound itself to the young witch's magical core, with the presence of magical fatigue proof of that. Not only was this magical union strange, but that the tight control the young witch had over it. It also a topic that they were currently hotly debating.

"…and I believe that you are not using this Magic to its full potential."

Ariana eyed the other speaker suspiciously, "In what way?"

"Let me ask you this, what is the most important factor when determining the strength of your spellcasting?"

"The intent behind the spell," the young girl instantly replied, the minutiae and nuances of magical framework firmly understood in her mind.

The Centaur stared at her intensely for a few seconds, "What if I told you there was another level of complexity to the magnitude of conventional spellwork?" she revealed lowly.

After seeing a fervent nod from the young witch, the sentient beast continued.

"What I am referring to is the intent behind the intent of a spell. What I mean by that is this: suppose you are trying to heal your mother, who is mortally wounded. The strength behind your spellwork would ultimately be influenced by your desire to keep this person alive, am I right? But then this begs question as to why? Who is this person to you? Why exactly are you trying to keep this particular person on the mortal plane?"

"In this particular case, there could be various familial motivations and underlying sentiments and so forth, but it's really at the mercy of your prejudice really. And by that, I mean you have to start with the absolute basics: the relationship between you and your mother."

To say Ariana was perplexed was the understatement of the century, "W-Why is this even relevant to the strength of spells?" she spluttered loudly, "Why do I need to have designs that deep when I cast magic? It also seems entirely infeasible to think up of complex scenarios like that during a fast-paced duel."

Ophelia snorted and folded her arms across her chest, "Wizards and witches unconsciously do this all the time, they just don't know that they're doing it," she replied informatively, "It takes a great willpower to harness this latent energy and incorporate it into your magic."

Ariana was about to reply as a new line of thinking thundered through her head like a train, but a faint hoot from a passing owl gave her pause, suddenly making her acutely aware of her situation. No more did sunshafts of evening light peak shyly into the tent; the silvery glow of luminescence that was encroaching upon her seated body was indicating that it was well past twilight.

With a small start, she then remembered her purpose in life.

The time for idle chatter and philosophical ramblings had come to its end; it was now the time for action. She had so much to do, to meet up with her dear friend Albus again, plan strategies with the Order, explain what had happened to her to new family, and so much more. Temporarily forgetting everything in the world, she wordlessly jumped to her feet and sprinted towards the entrance of the tent – only to be stopped at the very last second by a voice.

"WAIT!" came a urgent shout behind her.

Ariana froze mid-step, her hand an inch away from unfurling the flap that covered the entrance. She then knew exactly what the Centaur was going to refer to; realisation was slowly beginning to sink in about her physical state of self. Her eyes flickered down towards her damaged hand that was hovering in the air. A closer inspection revealed that it was twitching sporadically against her will. A sliver of moonlight that was peeking through the entrance gave her hand an ashen look – not ghostly in appearance, just subdued and greyish.

She was not out of the woods yet.

Ariana slowly turned around and warily made eye contact with the other occupant in the tent, only now noticing that beside the large Centaur lay a small pot that was filled to the brim with some sort of liquid, its metallic silhouette shrouded almost entirely in the shadows. After the Centaur made no motion to speak, the young girl broke the silence.

"After I awoke, you mentioned something about special oils that keep this curse from spreading," she said slowly and carefully before motioning with her head towards the pot, "Is that it right there?"

"No, young one. The last of our oils have been used up," Ophelia replied evenly, "Soon, the curse will return, and with it, your eventual demise."

Are Centaurs always this dramatic? Ariana thought with a fraction of amusement despite the situation.

Her fleeting feeling of levity vanished as the statement fully registered in her mind. "Can't you just make more of this particular oil?" she tried to reason, "If not, can you teach me how to create it?"

The mighty beast shook her large head, "Alas, the healing balm can only be concocted through alchemical means during the waning gibbous stages of an equinox."

"Can I have that in English please?" Ariana asked tiredly, growing irritated for the first time at the bombastic manner of speech.

"It means that our supply has run out and it will take three months before we can renew our phials. And judging from the last time I personally applied the oils to your body; I believe the effects will wear off in roughly a day or two."

Ariana pressed her good hand against her head and rubbed her temples wearily. Whenever she was in desperate times like these and needed to rationalize the situation, she would pull herself into her mind and simply ignore everything else. Many minutes passed as thoughts of every nature weaved in and out of her mindscape like fibrous ribbons, each one created and destroyed within rapid succession as each idea was closely analysed before being discarded. She didn't know how much time had passed until a low voice bought her back to reality.

"…is a way."

Ariana blinked twice and cleared her mind before focusing on the speaker, "Pardon?"

"I said there is a way to completely heal you."

Ariana narrowed her eyes suspiciously, "What's the catch?" she replied without missing a beat.

Ophelia gave a half smile, "There is always a price to pay for freedom," the centaur murmured softy, marvelling at the precocious and highly astute girl, "The question is, are you willing to make that sacrifice?"

Ariana stilled. Strangely, yet again, she seemed in total control of her erratic emotions. No more were they highly strung and balanced on egg-shells every single time something out of the ordinary happened. Her brain now listened to her, and her alone. It was also painfully obvious that whatever the Centaur was referring to lay in that pot beside her.

"Tell me what must I do," Ariana said sotto voce, realizing that there was no way out after rationalizing the situation in her mind. If Albus Dumbledore himself couldn't remove this curse, then who could? The least she could do was humour this Centaur.

"It is extremely simple. All you have to do is drink this potion," Ophelia clarified, motioning to the receptacle beside her, "It is an original creation of mine, and is one that I have given to a few of my kin during times of extreme desperation. Its curative powers are unlike anything this world has to offer."

Ariana gave a thought hum from the distinct lack of critical information, "What are the side-effects to this potion?" she asked curiously, addressing the elephant in the room as she realized that whatever this restorative liquid was, it must harbour adverse secondary effects like that of the Skele-Gro potion for example, which has a notably slow and unpleasant bone regrowing process.

"Truthfully, in your case, I do not know," Ophelia admitted as she shook her head, "I have never offered this to a human before."

"If it is pain, then I can handle it," Ariana declared confidently. Her belief was not misplaced, she was no stranger to trials or tribulations.

Ophelia hesitated before giving a deep nod, "I see that you have made your choice," she replied with equal amounts of conviction. She produced a leathery sack from the murky darkness and rooted around in its depths until she finally produced a small wooden bowl. Carefully scooping into the murky blackness of the pot with the bowl, her hand then emerged with the mysterious liquid after a few long seconds.

Under the dim light, the liquid was eerily iridescent. Glinting a darkish grey, it swirled effortlessly around in its concaved confines, the dynamics of the fluid revealing that it had nearly no viscosity at all. Traces of hot steam arose from its surface in long grey wisps that seemed to curl and entwine with dark magical fibres were also being discharged – to her eyes only of course.

The Centaur proffered the bowl, waiting until the person who she had been tending to for almost twelve months had grasped it firmly with their hands.

"Now, drink."

Ariana was all logic and cool detachment until the very first drop of liquid touched her lips. The effect was immediate. Without warning, every muscle in her body contracted forcefully as a tide of unadulterated pleasure assaulted her body. With a loud gasp of surprise, she dropped like a stone to the ground as a second wave of pleasure washed over her, causing her writhe in ecstasy on the grassy floor. She felt an unknown force reach down within her and grasp at her soul. Something within her body was changing, but she didn't know what.

She buried her face into the grass to smother her moans, her mind barely conscious enough to register the noises she was emitting. She was shivering violently, her muscles all still locked tight and clenched from a strange invigorating chill that seemed to cover every part of her skin, and one that was refusing to abate.

She was trembling, every part of her body sensitive beyond measure.

"What…. what did you… do… to me?" Ariana panted heavily as she struggled to pull herself off the floor, struggling to articulate her words as she turned her head towards Ophelia's direction. Although she was speaking to the Centaur, her eyes were locked on to the pot that still contained more of this concoction.

She wanted more of this unknown liquid. She craved more. She needed more. She tried to pull herself to her feet but fell back down onto the grass as her still-shaking legs gave out halfway. Undeterred and with blurred vision, she started crawling on all fours towards the fuzzy image of the vat that contained this mysterious substance.

A low murmur from above her head managed to pierce through the haze that heightened all five of her senses.

"…the feeling shall soon pass..."

She didn't really know what was happening all apart from the fact she somehow wasn't getting closer to the pot and that a large shadowy object was towering over her quivering form. She struggled helplessly against a constricting feeling that kept her limbs bound in place, relishing even in this form of contact due to her hypersensitive skin.

Ariana's world of hedonism and blissful indulgence gradually faded into nothingness as the effects of the liquid eventually began to wear off.

With the beginnings of a conscious thought making its way to the top of her mind, she tried to restore normality to the world. Realizing that the force that was pinning her to the floor had suddenly vanished, she quickly pushed herself into a seating position, blinking as the mist on her eyes lessened with each passing second.

It was as if the young girl had just woken up in an entirely new world.

Before she could do anything, a painless tingling sensation erupted across her body – specifically, her hands, her head, and the entirety of her back. The silver band placed on her wrist that was meant to safeguard her and all those around her from violent outbursts of magic slipped off her hand as the sensation intensified. Instead of feeling alarmed that Albus' sticking charm had deactivated without a proper reason, she simply sat where she was, her brain churning out hundreds of theories and hypotheses with frightening speed as all the senses in her body were gradually restored to its usual state.

Curiously, she was now aware of the coolness of the air, the loaming fragrance that was emanating from the ground beneath her, the touch of dampness from the morning dew that had saturated the top layer of soil. The tent, which was previously a dimly lit place, was now entirely visible to her. Virescent hued eyes scanned everything and anything as the once pitch blackness was replaced with sombre shades that faded into monochrome.

A low voice beside her broke her out of her ruminations, almost making her jump out of her skin.

"You are now healed of everything, young one."

Ariana's eyebrows were raised impossibly high as she turned toward Ophelia, the momentous claim seemingly too bizarre to be real. The young witch wanted to speak but her tongue felt heavy, as if she had just roused from a heavy slumber.

"What'd you… mean?" she slurred with difficulty.

Ophelia did nothing for a few seconds before pulling out a large rectangular object that housed a reflective surface from behind her. She raised it steadily into the air.

"Look at yourself."

Ariana gave a confused frown but complied with the terse instruction. She shuffled forward on the ground and carefully approached the image of a rather beautiful girl that was gazing right back at her. Her wild curiosities were kindled as she continued staring intensely. Realization finally kicked in when she finally angled her body in an appropriate manner.

"My scars!" she gasped loudly in shock, catching a glimpse of her back clearly through the strange translucent dress she was wearing. She could scarcely believe what she was seeing. Skin that was once was defiled, ugly and war-torn, was now smooth as if she had been born yesterday.

As if a switch had been flipped within her, she jumped up to her feet and furiously tore the dress off her body before planting her feet firmly in front of the mirror, one that the Centaur was patiently holding up for her as she inspected every single part of herself.

The curse that had originated from Marvolo Gaunt's ring had vanished, leaving only a small, untainted hand in its wake. Various scars that littered her body from past experiences, of Quidditch matches, of duels with Slytherins, of potion-making accidents, of past excitements, of mysteries and adventures, ones which gave her a unique purpose and drive to keep moving forward, had also all vanished into thin air.

There was one more thing she wanted to check. Nervously, she sucked in her breath and carefully pushed her long hair up to expose porcelain skin under the gentle light.

It was gone.

The scar on her forehead, the one reason for everything good and bad that had ever happened in her life, both past and present, was gone.

"How is this possible?" she wondered out loud to no one in particular, still too stunned to fully process the situation. After a few seconds of thought, her eyes then grew shadowed as she tilted her head to look up at an equine-like head that was staring solemnly back at her.

"How is this possible?" Ariana repeated in a darker tone.

Even in the future, there was no cohesive method to fully heal cursed scars once they have been inflicted upon human skin. She remembered Alastor Moody telling her that this was one area of research that not even the Department of Mysteries could solve.

Something was amiss.

Ophelia gave a heaving sigh as she lowered the makeshift mirror she was holding and placed it back down onto the grassy floor. She then began to speak lengthily in detail about a potion that she had created all by herself many decades ago out of absolute necessity.

It was at this moment Ariana felt something very wrong with the core of her being. Not wrong in the sense of physical discomforts or dysphoria, but rather something metaphysical instead. She couldn't even begin to describe it even if she wanted to.

As this was happening, Ophelia was still explaining the details of her potion.

"…and the final ingredient to the mixture, one that is nearly impossible to obtain without great sacrifice is…"

The Centaur said just two more words.

"… unicorn blood."