Chapter 17
The Ring of Fire
Sarah stifled a yawn as Mrs. Weasley carefully placed a steaming cup of tea in front of her. It was six in the morning, and the exhaustion from her overnight shift at St. Mungo's still clung to her. She hadn't expected the demands of being a healing intern to be quite so draining. Just a month ago, she and Zeus had received their internship letters, marking the beginning of their journey to become healers. Sarah had chosen to work in the practical department, while Zeus had found his calling with the potions team downstairs.
Zeus entered the kitchen, holding a stack of files and a rolled-up copy of the American Bugle. He placed the newspaper in front of Sarah, who mindlessly unrolled it. The members of the Order who had been on missions the previous night began to filter into the kitchen, and Mrs. Weasley busily started preparing more than just tea. The once-empty kitchen quickly filled with people.
Sarah lifted her cup of tea to her lips and took a cautious sip. Her eyes drifted to the Bugle, and she regarded it with a disinterested expression. There it was again, her aunt's face prominently featured, as always, under a new celebratory headline accompanied by a black and white photograph of Lyra, smirking in triumph. Sarah couldn't help but wonder what her aunt had accomplished this time.
"She's back on the front page, huh?" Moody commented, breaking the silence. Sarah shrugged and discarded the newspaper as if it were of little consequence.
"The day she isn't, I'd say there's something wrong with America!" She scoffed.
"Your aunt is an exceptional witch. Why the disdain?" Moody inquired.
"Don't get me wrong. I'm proud of Lyra, grateful even, especially after last year. I'm just tired of her constantly writing to me, trying to pry information out of me for my father. I'm not a stupid child anymore!" Sarah replied vehemently.
Mrs. Weasley shot her a disapproving glance, signaling her dissatisfaction with Sarah's ungrateful tone.
After the tournament had concluded, Zeus and Sarah willingly offered their support to Dumbledore. In turn, he had recruited them into the Order of the Phoenix, a secret society that had remained dormant since the previous war with You-Know-Who. Dumbledore had reactivated it on the very night Harry had brought news of Voldemort's return. As the days passed, and the severity of the situation became increasingly evident, Sarah underwent a transformation, evolving into an independent and resolute woman. She shed her previous image of a pampered, wealthy girl, fully aware that she had chosen this path. Truth be told, Sarah wholeheartedly committed herself to aiding in any way possible.
"What's this about elemental magic?" Tonks suddenly interjected, grabbing the American Bugle and reading the headline aloud. Sarah found herself becoming the unexpected center of attention.
"Elemental magic is a rare and ancient form of magic. Not many are privy to it. According to our History of American Magic lessons, when a witch or wizard is initiated into the 27 Coven, they undergo a mysterious magical acclimatization process with each of the four elements: Earth, Wind, Water, or Fire. The specifics of this process are shrouded in secrecy. Members are bound by unbreakable vows never to reveal the coven's most significant secret." Sarah explained. She had grown accustomed to sharing these straightforward facts on the American magical society and history, but the listeners around the table were clearly puzzled.
"So, if one masters an element, they can control it?" Tonks probed further, eager to learn more. Sarah calmly sipped her tea and set the cup down on top of Lyra's face in the newspaper.
"When a witch or wizard becomes a master of an element, they gain the ability to weave spells from one of the four elements: Earth, Wind, Water, or Fire. Currently, the leader of the 27, Tessra Jones, is a master of two elements: Earth and Water. Once a person has truly mastered an element, they no longer require a wand to wield it. They can manipulate it in any way they choose—altering it, shaping it, crafting spells with it, or even manifesting it physically." Sarah elaborated.
"Can they, like, conjure water out of thin air?" Tonks wondered aloud, clearly fascinated by the concept.
"There's a lot more they can do, Tonks. They have to be double graduates in two fields in a stipulated timeframe...Lyra's were defence and healing. But the 27 aren't just double graduates in their respective fields; they undergo years of intensive training in various forms of magic." Sarah added.
"So, how does one determine their element?" Tonks asked, eager to learn more.
"It's said that to master an element, you have to defy death through that element twice." Sarah revealed.
"Moreover, there's the Book of Destiny, I suppose, and I imagine their personality plays a significant role..." Sarah mused, concluding her thought.
"So, do all the members of the 27 have this ring?" Tonks asked, clearly taken aback.
"No, not all of them..." Sarah clarified.
"Only those who've defied death by an element twice. As far as I know, among this group of 27, there are only six such rings in existence. Now, Lyra's will make it the seventh and likely the first among those six...to have mastered..."
"What about the Book of Destiny? What's that?" Bill Weasley inquired, his interest piqued by the conversation.
"The Book of Destiny? You folks aren't don't know about the Book of Destiny? The founders of the 27, known as the Firsts, created the Book of Destiny. It's an ancient tome that only the leader of the 27 can read. This tome has endless pages that magically record the destinies of each coven member. However, it doesn't exactly predict the future; from what we know, it provides 'riddles' to be interpreted by the leader and the member it pertains to. The course of the future depends on the choices made by that individual. There's a lot of secrecy around the Coven's workings really..." Sarah explained.
"Is it similar to the sorting hat?" Fred Weasley chimed in, munching on his toast.
"It's more powerful than the sorting hat, Mr. Weasley, I can assure you." Dumbledore chuckled.
"So, what's Lyra Marks' element?" Tonks asked, her curiosity still burning.
"That's precisely what this ceremony is about—to reveal what the Book of Destiny has written for her. Every few years, the 27 gather at a conclave where the book presents these 'riddles' specific to each member. Together with the leader, they work to decipher and fulfill them. In Lyra's case, her element is likely fire." Sarah replied knowingly.
"Because of her phoenix?" Sirius wondered aloud.
"No, not because of her phoenix. My aunt has a penchant for fire. Remember last year when the dragon swallowed her whole? She miraculously survived its fiery insides."
"Or maybe it's because she's so hot-headed..." Sarah remarked with a hint of sarcasm.
"You mentioned that one must survive their element twice, but you've only mentioned one instance." Hermione pointed out.
"That...is not really my place to say." Sarah replied softly. The painful memory of her father's mangled face came to mind. She had been too young to fully understand what had happened, and all her knowledge was gleaned from eavesdropping on family conversations.
Moody's eyes shifted to Dumbledore, trying to convey a message. Sarah couldn't quite decipher it, but Dumbledore appeared to dismiss it.
Another ordinary May morning at 12 Grimmauld Place had begun.
Lyra fidgeted with her collar as she stood outside the imposing white double doors. The stern stone knights guarding the entrance had already bowed and parted to allow her passage. She couldn't shake the sense of dread that loomed over her as she contemplated what lay beyond those doors. For once, she wished that damn book would offer her something straightforward and uncomplicated, but it seemed that fate had conspired to make her life endlessly challenging.
With a resigned sigh, she pushed the doors open and entered the room. It was already occupied by the other 26 members of the prestigious 27 Coven. As the 'latest' member, she took the only available seat, which happened to be at the far end of a long white table. Her gaze swept over her fellow members, some of whom greeted her with friendly smiles, and she responded with respectful nods.
The chatter gradually faded as Tessra, cleared her throat from the head of the table. The room fell into a hushed silence. Tessra tapped her elegant white-wood wand against the Book of Destiny, signaling the beginning of the conclave. Each member received their destiny's call and departed one by one. Most of the others were seasoned veterans, growing older with each passing day, and their destinies had taken shape accordingly.
Slowly but steadily, the room emptied, leaving Lyra sitting alone and awaiting her turn. Finally, Tessra's voice broke the silence.
"Lyra Marks, come forward..." Tessra beckoned, and Lyra rose from her seat, making her way to stand beside her mentor.
Tessra regarded her with a gentle smile, her fingers entwining with Lyra's as she passed something into her hands. Lyra glanced down at her right palm to find a small titanium ring with two bands—one white and one yellow—running through the middle.
"The Ring of Fire..." Tessra announced, her voice filled with pride.
"May these bands of phosphorous, sulphur, and metal kindle the flames of your elements power, guiding it toward magic for good." Tessra intoned, sealing the significance of the ring and its purpose.
Lyra swiftly slid the ring onto her right ring finger.
"No, the Ring of Fire is meant for your left hand, your...heart finger." Tessra corrected gently, taking Lyra's hands and moving the ring to the appropriate finger.
Instantly, Lyra felt a burning sensation deep within, similar to a mild case of heartburn. She dismissed the discomfort and focused on Tessra's words.
"Welcome to the inner fold, my child. Fire, I'm not surprised..." Tessra remarked, her voice tinged with understanding.
"Me neither." Lyra replied, gazing at the ring that now adorned her finger. It felt as if it had been crafted specifically for her—tailored to her unique destiny.
"Shall we explore your destiny together?" Tessra suggested, and Lyra nodded in agreement.
Tessra turned a page in the Book of Destiny, guiding it to reveal the secrets of Lyra's fate. As the quill danced across the page, the writing began to materialize as if by magic.
Your destiny lies at your beginning—for at the start is where you will find the answers you seek.
Lyra frowned, a mixture of confusion and frustration welling up within her. This was it? After all her anticipation, her destiny offered nothing more than vague words that left her feeling utterly dissatisfied.
"That's it?!" Lyra exclaimed in exasperation, her frustration evident in her tone. Previous members had received detailed instructions about their future roles, responsibilities, and actions. In contrast, Lyra's destiny seemed to mock her with its brevity, as if it were saying, "Oh, you've been messing up—time for a do-over!" It felt like a cruel joke, leaving her to wonder if her destiny was nothing more than a cosmic prank.
"This holds more significance than you realize, Lyra!" Tessra emphasized, trying to impress upon the importance of these words.
"It sure doesn't seem like it." Lyra retorted sarcastically, disheartened by her seemingly lackluster destiny.
"The Book of Destiny is a guide, Lyra. Destiny unfolds in its own time. Your choices will determine the path you follow." Tessra explained, closing the tome with a gentle wave of her wand, sealing it for the next few years.
"Well, what does it mean? I need to go back to school?" Lyra huffed indignantly.
"It means you need to return to the beginning of...you, Lyra." Tessra replied, her gaze piercing as she emphasized the words.
Lyra stood there in silence, letting the weight of those words sink in. It eventually struck her, although she wasn't sure if there was anything worth exploring at the beginning.
"I don't know anything about my beginning, do I, Tessra? Apart from the fact that I was born in England, there isn't anything else. You know I've searched for years, but there's been nothing there for me." Lyra said, her voice tinged with dejection. Her destiny seemed to be reopening a chapter she had worked so hard to close. Yet, despite her reluctance, curiosity gnawed at her. Could it be true? Was the book leading her to the answers she had sought for years? Could she finally uncover the truth about her identity?
"I'm not very popular in England at the moment. There's nothing there for me." Lyra added, emphasizing that revisiting her past held little appeal.
"The book is a guide, Lyra. Destiny unfolds on its own. It is your choice, and only yours, to decide what lies ahead." Tessra explained gently.
"That's not very helpful, Tess! What am I supposed to do there? If I travel to England without a clear purpose, there will be suspicions galore. I'll be deemed some kind of international spy, trying to uncover vested interests for America from another country's impending war. Not like the muggles have saved face for America when it comes to espionage." Lyra muttered, her frustration evident.
"Lyra, let time do its job. You continue to do yours." Tessra advised, patting Lyra's shoulder encouragingly.
Lyra scoffed at her mentor's words.
"Remember to stay back at Coven House and learn the basics of your elemental magic. I will personally teach you. Come see me later today." Tessra instructed, her gaze fixed on the tall woman before her. Lyra exhaled wearily, as if the weight of her destiny had suddenly grown heavier. She nodded in acknowledgment of Tessra's statement.
Lyra entered her apartment overlooking Boston Harbor. She had intentionally chosen to live in a Muggle building, making sure to secure a top-floor apartment with a spacious balcony for the convenience of her owls and Burst, who enjoyed taking flight whenever she pleased. At that moment, a tired-looking owl was perched on her balcony, appearing to have just completed a lengthy journey. Without hesitation, she summoned a bowl of water and some food to refresh the bird before it continued its travels.
Taking the letter from the owl's leg, Lyra examined the envelope closely. It bore multiple international stamps and was sealed with a medical emblem, clearly from St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.
So much for having to wait for my destiny to unfold, she thought bitterly. It had only been a week since, and it seemed that fate was already making its moves. With an urgent sense of curiosity, Lyra opened the envelope and began to read its contents.
The letter was from the Head of the International Healing Society, describing an enticing opportunity at St. Mungo's in London. They were offering her the position of Head of the Janus Thicke ward for long-term patients, which had recently become vacant due to the retirement of its previous department head. The letter commended her numerous achievements in the field of healing and expressed a strong desire to have her on board as a consultant for practical healing. They seemed particularly eager to secure her services, seeing that they were so generous with the remuneration they were offering.
Lyra read the letter several times before setting it aside. Returning to England had never been in her plans. The events of earlier in the year had left her with little desire to set foot in that land again. She wasn't afraid, but she knew when she wasn't wanted. As her godfather Newt always said, "Never poke a sleeping dragon" — or was it "Never tickle"?
Pouring herself a generous glass of firewhiskey, Lyra settled in as the evening news played on her wizarding wireless. The announcer continued to drone on about the recent 27 conclave, as if there was nothing else worth discussing. She yearned for the days of two years ago when Sirius Black had been the sole topic of conversation. The announcer's tone shifted to congratulating her on mastering fire, painting a joyous picture of the momentous occasion for the coven and the country. Fed up with the relentless praise and her recent experiences, Lyra turned off the wireless.
She sighed, eyeing the ring that now adorned her finger. Swirling the amber liquid in her glass, she downed it in a single gulp. Summoning some parchment and a quill, she began composing a response to the letter.
"You're in for a few treats once they receive this letter, my feathered friend..." She remarked, casting a wry glance at the messenger owl, which was dozing on Burst's perch. Her phoenix, however, was less than thrilled by the company and made an attempt to kick the smaller bird away with her talon.
The following morning, Sarah found herself making her rounds alongside Healer Kranston, a senior healer renowned for his expertise in the Janus Thicke ward. Being one of Kranston's favored interns had been no accident; it was a strategic move, per Dumbledore's orders. This was her mission for the Order: gaining access to the ward and, more importantly, to one specific patient. She had been entrusted with this task, and not even Zeus was privy to its details.
Zeus had grown somewhat suspicious of her recent activities, but Sarah had managed to alleviate his concerns, attributing her increased workload to the honor of collaborating with a prestigious healer like Kranston. He had eventually set aside his doubts. Not that much about her bothered him these days.
Try as she might, Sarah couldn't ignore the noticeable changes in his personality since the previous year. He had become withdrawn, aloof, and highly argumentative, as if building an emotional fortress around himself. Sometimes, Sarah felt hesitant to even touch him. She had overheard him crying in the shower on several occasions, and she feared that he was on the brink of mentally breaking down. Enduring multiple Cruciatus curses in quick succession, coupled with the near-death experience he had encountered that night, would have taken a toll on anyone.
Sarah shuddered as she contemplated what Zeus must have endured, standing face-to-face with one of the darkest wizard in history. Witnessing his parents' unwavering support had only intensified the trauma. Despite the tumultuous events, Zeus had stood his ground, protecting Harry like an older brother. He had refused to join Voldemort, defying the expectations of a pureblood heir.
"Ms. Lincolns, are you paying attention?" Healer Kranston's stern voice broke through her reverie, drawing her back to reality. Her fellow interns were looking at her with concern.
"Yes, sir. My apologies." She mumbled, refocusing on her duties as Kranston led the group from one patient's bedside to the next.
The group stopped at the Longbottoms, Frank and Alice, who greeted them with distant smiles. Kranston spoke to them as if they were children and moved on. Sarah found his condescending demeanor disrespectful. True, many patients in the ward were not in their right minds due to long-term magical damage, but the Longbottoms had been valiant members of the Order, senior aurors who had fought bravely against Voldemort in the previous war. They had made significant sacrifices to ensure a brighter future and a safer world for their son, Neville.
Sarah recalled Neville from the previous year when they had shared potions classes. Snape had assigned seventh-year students to mentor fourth-years, and she had interacted with him during that time. Neville often visited his parents with his grandmother, another Order member, although less active due to her age, but a big financial contributor none the less.
As the group passed a curtained bed, nobody dared to peek inside. The patient behind the curtain was the heart of Sarah's mission: Aries Shorthorn. He lay there, unresponsive and petrified, a condition that typically required days of intensive care to reverse. But Aries's case was different; his condition was shrouded in secrecy. No one was allowed to gaze behind the curtain, not even Healer Kranston. Only an outsourced family healer would visit Aries monthly to perform specific spells and then depart.
Sarah knew these spells were not intended to break Aries's petrification; rather, they were meant to maintain it. Dumbledore had explained the incident that had led to Aries's current state. Aries had defied his parents' wishes to join Voldemort's ranks when the Dark Lord returned to power, revealing his intention to marry his Muggle-born girlfriend instead. A confrontation had escalated, leading to Aries's petrification by his own father, a skilled dark wizard. The incident had been hushed up by corrupt bureaucrats in the Ministry, and Aries had remained petrified ever since. He had received no visitors and no treatment.
Sarah's mission was clear: she had to bring Aries out of his petrified state. Thus, during every available graveyard shift in the ward, she diligently conducted research, attempting various methods to reverse his condition. With her limited skills, she did her best, though every experiment had yielded no success. Still, she refused to give up.
"Now, everyone, the dean has just informed me that the ward will be getting a new head of department, starting tomorrow. She has been appointed by the International Healing Society and is renowned for her prestigious healing skills. You might even know her, as she is quite famous in America..." Healer Kranston announced. The group began to gossip quietly, but Sarah's ears perked up upon hearing the word "America".
"Healer Lyra Marks will be joining our department as the new head, and I expect all of you to demonstrate the progress of your training to her. You have the opportunity to learn from one of the best. That will be all for now; please proceed with your daily tasks. We have much work to do." Kranston concluded, heading towards his cabin.
Sarah, however, remained rooted in shock. This couldn't be happening. The audacity of the situation, of her aunt! She couldn't believe that Lyra had accepted this position, likely just to continue spying on her!
AN/- This is the start towards more elemental magic coming to the forefront. The Fic ends at OOTP in this universe. You'll see how. Lots more to come though, Stay tuned! And I hope you'll leave some reviews of your thoughts. Thanks!