Hello all! So, a bit of warning, this chapter sucks. It's gonna make you angry, and it's gonna make you sad, and it's just awful. I cried writing this, and I cried reading it through again for any errors. It's a little short this time, but I'm hoping the content makes up for it. I'm so happy with the progress this story is making, and I'm really happy so many people are enjoying it too. I do want to apologize for any tears this chapter causes, but I will try to make it up to everyone.
The rest of February passed by without a hitch. My father and I finished the wolfsbane just a little wrong in color, so we started another brew. He was adamant that we get it perfect, so I went along with it. I did tell him about the basilisk, which he was forced to bring to the headmaster. Nothing had changed, unsurprisingly. Even knowing what the creature is doesn't mean we can find the chamber. He also brought the book to Dumbledore, which meant that I was never going to find out what happened to it or what dark magic was used on it.
In the third week of March I'd finally found the spell Dumbledore used on me. It never had a name, but many called it a 'stripping' spell. It was created before Azkaban became a prison, meant as a permanent punishment for wizards and witches who committed heinous crimes. Basically, it was a magical castration. It destroyed a person's magical core, leaving them a squib. If it failed, it would cause a person an immense amount of pain – the section on this spell mentioned the creator of the Cruciatus Curse using the pain caused by the failing of this one as inspiration. The more I knew about it, the more sick I felt. The paragraph that mentioned Dragonians by name was the straw that made me snap.
During the time of witch hunts the wizarding world went as deep into hiding as they could. It was why we had a Statute of Secrecy in the first place. It was meant as a protection from being hunted again. But people held a deep seeded fear of Dragonians back then, so deep they were willing to do whatever it took to get rid of them. They would set muggles after Dragonian circles, and have their own little hunts using the muggles as their cover. It was the perfect cover up for whole groups of people being burned to death. But wizards and witches have always been the kind of people who want a spell to do the job for them, so they bastardized this one and used it on Dragonians.
The problem with that, was that a Dragonian's magical core was entwined with their nervous system. Which meant that a successful performance of the spell would effectively kill them. No one could survive the shock of every single nerve in their body suddenly dying, not even the most powerful witch or wizard. If it failed for a Dragonian, then they would be in pain from the damage their magical core took, and the strain it put on their body would render them unable to use magic anyway. The spell rarely failed, and even if it did fail it solved the problem for the hunters.
This meant one very important thing for me. One thing that I had to do well to never forget. Dumbledore wanted me dead, he just wasn't willing to use the actual killing curse on a little girl. I was growing up, and that meant my time might be running out on more than one front. So now I had to go to my father so we could go to St. Mungo's and see if I could be healed. For some reason, I wasn't holding out hope.
My father decided to take me that Saturday, which meant I would be missing out on a Hogsmeade weekend. Adrian and Graham understood immediately, but Cedric grew very worried for me when I told him where I was going. It took a lot of reassuring, and letting him know that I would explain as much as I could when I got back to Hogwarts. He could tell I was buying time, but I didn't know where this was going to lead. I needed to know if the healers could do anything before I told him. He let me leave it at that when Graham ran interference.
The mediwitches at St. Mungo's were a bit exasperated when they saw me again. Apparently a case like mine isn't one they forget easily. When I showed them the spell that was used on me I was also forced to explain to them what I was so that they would take it seriously. They did, but that didn't leave me with any more options than what they had.
The healer that was leading my care, however, started to look disheartened the longer she looked at me. It was two hours into my visit and the third time she'd used the same diagnostic spell that had me biting out in an angry tone "Is there a reason you keep doing that? How many times do you have to look at my magical core before you trust what you see?"
This, apparently, made her even more upset. Her face fell and she sat down on a stool beside my bed. Every other witch cleared the room while she spoke "I'm sorry, Ms. Snape, but we can't help you."
I rolled my eyes, sighing in frustration "Figures as much. No treatments for something that's never been a problem before."
I moved to stand from the bed, but she placed a hand on my shoulder to keep me in place and looked mournfully at my father "You should sit down for this, sir." He looked as confused as I was, but he was willing to humor her at least. Once he was sat down, she took a deep breath and spoke in a calm voice "I'm sorry, but the more fully your magical core develops, the worse this condition gets."
My father sneered in annoyance "Yes, we know. That's what we were told the last time. If that is all?"
She shook her head, eyes growing watery "I'm sorry, sir, but that would be better news than what I have for you." Now I was growing concerned. She continued after a small pause "Because your magical core is directly connected to your nervous system, it's causing you great pain when your core misfires or your nerves receive a signal. The damage to your core is something that no one can heal, because we've never seen something like this." She took another steadying breath "Your core is shutting down as it develops. And it's taking your nerves with it."
I frowned, not really sure what that meant "So, what, I won't be able to feel anything once my core is gone?"
She shook her head "We don't know." She looked me in the eye for her next words "But the most likely option is that once your core is completely shut down, you will die with it."
I took in a sharp breath, not sure how to react to this news. Healers didn't like to tell their patients they were dying. They rarely ever had to. It explained why she scanned me so many times – she was trying to find some sign that could get her out of having to say it. One glance at my father told me he was in shock, so I spoke for the both of us "How long?"
"Maybe four years, if you're lucky."
I scowled at her, angry with my own situation "I don't want 'if I'm lucky', I want my worst odds. How long do I have?"
She let out a shaky breath "The best I can estimate is two and a half years."
I nodded, standing from the bed and taking my father's arm to pull him up "Come on dad. There's nothing more that can be done here."
He came willingly, following me to the fireplace to floo us back to Hogwarts. I brought us to his office, hurrying us to his chambers where no one would see him. It took hours to get him to stop looking clammy, but his skin wouldn't warm. He kept staring off at the wall, probably trying to think of some way to save me. I wanted to think about that too, but all I could think of was how I would tell anyone. How could I tell my friends I was dying? How could I even pretend I'm not to everyone else? What the hell was I supposed to do?
It was when McGonagall came knocking on his door that I realized the time. We'd missed lunch and dinner. One look at my father and the question died on her tongue. She looked at me carefully "How bad?"
I looked at my father, not wanting to say it with him so fragile in the moment. She understood, casting a 'muffliato' around us and away from him "I have two and a half years."
Her hand came up to cover her mouth in grief – because that's what this was for us, a grieving process. It's taken me years to get to where I am. Knowing I'm a Dragonian, being able to control the transformation, learning some of the old spells. It's taken two years for me to understand it to the point I do now, and I've only scratched the surface. Two and a half years wasn't enough time, not for what I needed. Finding a way to heal me wasn't about letting me keep my magic anymore, it was about saving my life.
And somehow, I found myself resigned instead. I didn't want to spend my last two years alive searching for something that might not exist. I wanted to spend it enjoying the time I had left with my friends, my boyfriend, and my family. I've spent enough time trying to find a way to fight Dumbledore, to break free of him. I didn't have a life to fight for anymore. The tears finally welled in my eyes, and McGonagall pulled me into a hug, her face just as teary as mine.
I don't know when she dropped the silencing spell, but my father's voice was croaky when he called out over my sobs "Vanessa?" McGonagall pulled away from me, allowing me to go to him as he spoke "We'll find a way to fix this." I shook my head, protesting silently "Yes, we will. I won't lose you to this."
My voice was shaky as I looked down at him "No, no more of this. There might not even be anything to fix me." I could see the desperation in his eyes, but this was something I couldn't let consume him "I don't want to waste the time I have. I want to spend the last years of my stupidly short life having fun with my friends and embarrassing my baby brother. I want to spend my time giving the best father I could have ever asked for as many happy memories of me as I can."
I could hear McGonagall sobbing a little behind me, so I turned to her and gave her a teary smile. We all spent the next hour mourning the future I might have had, not one of us saying a word about the crying we all took part in. I slept in my father's chambers that night, curled up in his bed like I did when I had a nightmare as a little girl. We sat together at the head table for breakfast, neither one of us acknowledging the staff's looks. McGonagall had to have told them, as no one said a word.
I was reluctant to leave my father's side, but he insisted I don't give my friends more reason to worry. The irony of that wasn't lost on me, but I obliged him. I met up with my friends in the entrance hall, all of them waiting for me so that Cedric wasn't left standing alone. I gave them a weak smile, the concern evident on all of their faces. They agreed to sit with me by the Black Lake, but waited as I grabbed Harry from the Great Hall. I wasn't going to repeat this conversation, not now.
When we all sat down, Cedric immediately pulled me into his arms. I was tense, but only because this wasn't news I knew how to break. They were patient with me despite my disappearance for the entirety of the day before. I decided to start easy, with the explanation of my current condition "So you all know I take a potion regularly, but only two of you know exactly what it's for."
Graham and Adrian's eyes widened "Vanessa are you sure?"
I nodded, smiling at my dorm mates "Sorry I've never told any of you. I've considered my condition something that no one needed to know. The potion I take is for chronic pain. Without it I wouldn't be able to function very well." Harry's eyes lit up as he saw where things were going, and Cedric's arm tightened around my waist "The condition I suffer from is a result of some wizard performing a spell on me when I was three years old to try and destroy my magical core. It failed, sort of, and the damage remains after all these years."
Alexandra looked outraged "Why would anyone want to do that to a child?!"
Adrian sighed "We said the same thing. Bastard's going to pay for what he did, one way or another."
My eyes grew teary as I gave him a fond smile "Sorry, Adrian, but not anymore."
He hissed, Graham joining him in his anger "You expect us to forgive the old codger? What the hell happened to change your mind?"
My head shook, and I'm sure Cedric felt the hitch in my breath "No, I don't expect you two to forgive him. But he won't be paying for what he did to me, not now. Maybe not ever."
Cedric's voice was almost breathless "Vanessa, why are you crying?"
My laugh was strained "I'm getting there. Basically, the spell he used was meant to destroy my magical core, but since I was a child and it wasn't fully developed I was still able to use magic. It's continued developing as I've grown up, but the damage was still there. It's like diseased tissue, spreading to the healthy bits that have grown over the years." I took a breath to brace myself for the worst part "The thing is, I have this thing, where my magical core is melded with my physical body. And my core is dying." The sob broke out of me before I could stop it, and it broke the dam that had been holding my tears "It's taking my body with it."
Everyone was silent. I could see my dorm mates trying to stifle their tears, but nothing was going to stop them once they started. Cedric's arms tightened around my waist as he buried his face in my shoulder, I could feel the silent tears soaking into my shirt. Harry just kind of slumped down, a weird devastation I couldn't recognize on his face. Graham looked broken and livid all at once, and Adrian looked ready to collapse.
It was Harry who spoke first, his voice a soft whisper on the wind "How long do you have?"
I opened my arms to him, and he crawled into my lap as I spoke "The healer at St. Mungo's said two and half years."
It was a dog pile from there. I was tucked in between Harry and Cedric, Adrian and Graham taking one of my sides each. All the girls from my dorm circled in around us. We spent a better part of the day like that. I was sure the other students noticed, but they didn't say anything about it. No one left my side for lunch, and my father even joined us at the table. The news spread among the Slytherins before the end of lunch, and I was with Cedric as he told his friends. Harry had Nott and Granger following him with me the rest of the day.
The worst part of the whole thing was going to my classes. Flitwick was more compassionate than he'd ever been, especially knowing the state of my core. Professor Sprout seemed to think I couldn't handle putting a little fertilizer in a pot, Professor Babbling almost flat out kicked me out of class. Professor Vector was better about it, asking what my limitations were instead of telling me not to do the work. McGonagall knew better than to try and baby me for even a second and treated me just the same. But my father had hit a downward spiral in his grief. He apparently skipped the first three steps of the grieving process, and it showed. I stepped in on his first year classes, but I was no use to the others. All I could do was hope things would look up after the first week.
