The road to the hospital also didn't turn out to be anything interesting, and inside... Inside, this establishnt looked just like an ordinary hospital. The sa light colors, the sa people injured by stupidity or in so other way, filling the reception departnt, young and not so young girls in li-colored robes with embroidery behind the counter. And even two huge fireplaces wide did not stand out from the general design. Corridors went deep, there was a wide staircase up, but there was also an elevator—visible at the end of one of the corridors.
On the way to the reception, I asked father:
"Am I even scheduled for an appointnt?"
"As far as I know, Healer Sthwyck is ready to receive you within a week after Hogwarts. Um," father pondered. "Yes, scheduled."
"Excellent."
Now I beca the leader of our squad.
"Excuse , Miss," I addressed a rather young witch in a li robe who stood at the reception and didn't look busy.
"Yes, young man?"
"I need to see Healer Sthwyck for a preventive check-up."
"So..." the girl took a folder from a vertical stand for many other folders, and quickly found so entry there. "Na?"
"Hector Granger."
"Hmm... I see. Up the stairs to the second floor, room two hundred and seven. The Healer is currently conducting an examination, you will have to wait."
"Okay. Thank you very much," I smiled, eliciting a reciprocal smile from the girl.
Turning to father and sister, I pointed invitingly at the stairs.
"Well, gentlen and ladies, let's go."
Going upstairs, we found ourselves in another hall and a couple of corridors, above each of which hung signs with numbers of rooms located in each of them. There were significantly fewer people here—literally a couple of wizards waiting for an appointnt, sitting on benches near the offices. And I cannot help but note that the hospital from the inside looks noticeably more modern, minimalist and hospital-like, perhaps. There weren't even bushes in pots, or other irritants or sources of possible allergic reactions.
"We go there," Hermione nodded toward one of the corridors.
While we walked, an elderly wizard ca out of room number two hundred and seven, threw a aningless glance at us, and left. Interestingly, at the sa ti the sign on the office changed shade from pink to greenish. Knocking, I opened the door and entered.
"Good morning," I greeted imdiately, imdiately finding with my eyes a slightly stout wizard in a li robe.
He sat at a large desk, not distinguished by special decorations and delights. Behind his back was a large window, flooding everything around with daylight scattered by a matte translucent curtain. Of the furniture here were a sofa, an armchair, a chair opposite the healer's desk, a simple bookcase, and all this was in neutral beige tones, calming and soft. The door to an unknown adjacent room was closed.
"Hmm... Good..." Sthwyck looked at for a second, and then recognition flashed in his gaze. "Mr. Granger. Have a seat."
"Sorry, but I'm not alone here."
"Ah, I understand," Sthwyck looked at father and sister behind my back. "You co in too."
When we all entered, Sthwyck pointed to the sofa, looking at father and Hermione. They understood everything without words and sat down, and the healer offered a chair opposite his desk.
"I must admit, Mr. Granger, I didn't recognize you imdiately. You have changed strikingly since our last eting, and changed, I must note, for the better. Potions?"
"Healthy eating and physical exercise, sir."
"Oh, an excellent thod!" the healer smiled kindly. "Not everyone does this in our ti, because there are much simpler ways. Naive."
"The simple path is far from always the best."
"Moreover," the healer raised his index finger. "It almost never is. Well... Allow to refresh my mory on your case..."
Sthwyck got up from his seat and went to a card file by the window I hadn't noticed before. Quickly finding the necessary folder, he returned with it to the table, opened it, and for five minutes fluently, but clearly attentively, studied the records.
"Well," he looked up at . "Given the circumstances of your case, I would like to conduct so tests to understand the current situation."
"Of course. What needs to be done?"
"Oh, nothing special. Given so specifics..." Sthwyck took a stack of sheets from the desk, flipped through, and took a couple out of the stack, putting the rest away. "I will ask you to complete the task on these sheets, and simultaneously apply a spell to diagnose brain activity. And generally, check the state of health."
"Okay."
"Please," he handed the sheets.
Taking them, I couldn't help but be surprised that on one there were damn complicated problems both in Arithmancy and ordinary mathematics. On the other—translation of runes. On the third—a task to draw a given object, artistically draw. And so on, trifles. I looked at Sthwyck questioningly.
"Of course I know," he smiled. "In which disciplines you are advancing and your general level. Let remind you, even though I didn't stand over you every day, I am your attending physician, and given the specifics of your case, observation of ntal activity was a priority."
"But I didn't study Arithmancy."
"Officially. You explained that you could study it yourself. I cannot say whether you achieved anything or not—all based on your conversations with the Head of House, Madam Pomfrey, and professors in general."
"Oh, I see," such reasoning and conversations indeed took place. "That's how they watch you, and you don't even know."
"All with your parents' permission," Sthwyck smiled. "Hogwarts staff did their job, and the information is well-known. Well, my conclusions will remain only with , with you, and your relatives. Shall we proceed?"
"Of course."
"Here is a pen, a pencil."
Sthwyck put the supplies in front of , and stood nearby, taking out his wand.
"Ready?"
"Yes."
Sthwyck made a small movent with his wand without any words, and I felt alien magic enveloping . Completely harmless, it created a sowhat unpleasant impression, as if you are being closely watched. Well, let's go...
...The testing lasted half an hour, and all this ti Healer Sthwyck continuously monitored my condition. When I completed the tasks, the healer returned to the table and took out a stack of clean sheets. Pointing his wand at them, he pronounced a spell with just his lips, and the sheets began to fill with text and diagrams.
"So," he spoke while the sheets filled themselves. "What can I say..."
Out of the corner of my eye, I noted how my bored father and sister leaned forward.
"...First the good news. The state of your physical health is simply magnificent. Immunity, physical developnt, preparedness, presence, or rather, complete absence of pathologies, deviations, diseases... I envy even a little," Sthwyck patted his small tummy hidden behind the li robe with a smile.
"Really completely-completely good?" father clarified.
"I will say this—a little muscle mass is missing for the ideal, but it is worth rembering that Hector is still growing, and if the diagnostics are to be believed, and there are no grounds not to believe them, then this is not yet the limit. This pleases and discourages a little, but that's not the point."
"And what is?" I asked.
"The point is increased brain activity. We assud that with your recovery it would return to normal, well, or at least remain slightly above it. But no."
"Is that so bad?"
"Not quite, Mr. Granger," Sthwyck smiled. "Even on the contrary, good. But you have to understand that human physiology does not imply such activity. Magic compensates for this, and I even see traces of rapid adaptation, but I worry that this process may stop, activity will remain the sa and this may affect your further developnt. The brain is a tricky thing. It is capable of compensating very, very much, but for sothing to arrive sowhere, it must decrease sowhere."
"Logical..."
"Is it dangerous?" father got worried.
"No-no. But I would recomnd taking a course of Nerve Regenerator. Given the peculiarities of your magic," Sthwyck looked at sowhat aningfully. "The result will not keep you waiting, simultaneously avoiding the already insignificant chance of at least so negative consequences."
The healer shifted his gaze to father and sister.
"Mr. Granger, Miss Granger. Could you leave us alone? After all, there are so things between a healer and a patient that should remain strictly between them."
"Yes, of course, I understand," father nodded, getting up. "I am also a doctor, albeit in a sowhat different profile."
"Excellent," Sthwyck smiled.
Father and Hermione left the office, and Sthwyck tapped his wand on the table—a certain magical do clearly ford around us, previously unseen by . I assu, for confidentiality.
"I'll ask directly," Sthwyck beca serious. "In your body, I diagnosed an amusing magical construction. What is it?"
"I hoped you would find it," I smiled. "Personal developnt. I want to beco a healer in the future."
"A worthy goal," Sthwyck nodded. "I'll say right away, so that there are no fears or reservations—the secret of the healer and the patient is inviolable and our dicine rests on it. I didn't quite understand what this construct does. Understood only that it cleanses and improves the body."
"Yes, that's roughly how it works. Very deep."
"And the results are excellent," Sthwyck nodded. "Another question. Do you have frequent cases of déjà vu? Sudden associations that cannot be, or duality of perception?"
"Hmm... If I rember your first visit correctly, you said that my soul is restoring integrity."
"Yes, exactly so. Don't misunderstand. We have two patients whose recovery we have been fighting for more than a year. Their problem is also connected with the soul, so we collect all available information. Direct work with the soul is under strict ban of the International Confederation of Wizards, and even healers are forbidden to experint. Only observe, analyze, draw conclusions. That's why I ask, because I diagnosed a slight desynchronization of aura sections."
"Aura?"
"A kind of trace of the soul on the body, a reflection in reality. If you want to beco a healer, you will encounter this matter in your seventh year."
"You are right. There is a little, but I wouldn't say they are pronounced."
"Hmm... I thought so."
"Is it dangerous?"
"No," Sthwyck shook his head with a smile. "They beco less frequent, and the intensity less, right?"
"Yes."
"Here is the answer—soon the soul will simply... Align, let's call it that. Generally, I recomnd you look for a translation of Buddhist treatises. Magical texts, of course. They studied the issues of the cycle of life and death very closely. There are amusing practices there. Perhaps you can even rember sothing from past lives!" Sthwyck finished his speech enthusiastically.
"Does that happen?" I didn't even have to feign surprise.
"Of course! There are many cases. Pity, though, that these mories are too fragntary, and one in a thousand is capable of this, maybe less."
Sthwyck shivered.
"I tried for the sake of experint. All because of those two patients. Rembered how I, an Indian boy, was bitten by a cobra and I died from poison... Just upset. Or maybe I imagined it—the ways of magic are inscrutable. Prefer to think it was a past life. You know, at my age it inspires hope."
"Indeed," I smiled.
"And one more thing. I noticed a bracelet on your sister's hand too. My goddaughter studies at Hogwarts, a little fidget. So I am forced to listen sotis to stories about everything-everything-everything. In general, as a healer, I could not help but feel the trace of its influence on your sister, and it is sowhat similar to the circuit that is in your body."
"Suppose."
"Oh-h..." Sthwyck sighed. "I forget that you are Muggle-born. Any secret of the patient the healer will take with him to the grave—the basis of our reputation and trust. In general, I have a business proposal for you."
"I am listening carefully."
"I've been wracking my brains for two weeks over what to give my goddaughter. And here you appear, Mr. Granger. I'll ask directly—can you make sothing similar?"
"I'll tell you as a future colleague," I spoke seriously. "What you found in my body, purely for , works by no ans softly and... It is a great test at first."
"I guess what processes of cleansing the body of excess can be associated with, especially at such a level. In healing there are similar things, but implented extrely clumsily, and far from always without consequences. Your option clearly and precisely feels safe, Mr. Granger."
"Will you believe feelings?"
"You have yet to learn many nuances of diagnostic magic if you are going to beco a healer or an expert in malefics. Believe , the sensations transmitted by diagnostic spells completely convey the aning and essence, even if they do not reveal the chanisms themselves. Be sure that if there was at least the slightest risk that sothing would go wrong, I would not ask you for such a thing."
In general, I must agree with Sthwyck. The Cleansing circuit created by based on Minor Healing is extrely cool, absolutely safe, universal, and generally—elves worked on similar things for thousands of years, and it is the basis of their health, long life, and general "ideality."
"What do you offer in return, and what guarantees of secrecy? Understand correctly—this is too important to . Of course, I am not going to keep my developnts secret forever, but I do not wish to reveal myself now either."
"Blood contract," Sthwyck nodded. "And to broaden your horizons—a finished artifact cannot be repeated without knowing the exact process of its creation."
We drew up a contract fairly quickly, and I strained my brains considerably, making it ideal, which surprised Sthwyck. Generally, the elf's experience in intrigues suggested to that the healer is sincere completely and fully, and is a good person himself. But insurance doesn't hurt. And consent to create such a thing will help in the future when I decide to reveal so cards, but that is a question of the future. In the end, we agreed on a thousand Galleons, which surprised a little, and besides money, Sthwyck promised to give amusing, according to him, literature, if I bring assurances of my knowledge of the school curriculum from Hogwarts professors.
"And doesn't it surprise you," I asked, already standing in front of the door. "That a young wizard possesses such knowledge?"
"I am no longer young," this stout and indeed elderly man leaned back. "What haven't I seen in life, and little can surprise . Perhaps I would be much more surprised if you, Mr. Granger, did not possess any outstanding talents at all. Impossible to turn out diocre, after your illness. That just doesn't happen. Who knows, maybe you really will beco a healer, and together we will make a bunch of incredible discoveries. Although..."
Sthwyck pondered.
"If you beco an artificer or soone similar, you can achieve by no ans lesser heights."
"Thank you," I nodded. "All the best."
"And to you. I will wait for the owl with the parcel."
I left the hospital in a good mood, although I had to explain to father and Hermione for ten minutes that everything was fine with , and with the healer we discussed the nuances of treatnt, as well as what is needed to beco a healer. The purchase of the owl and other trifles went normally, and I beca the owner of a small funny owlet, joyfully absorbing droplets of life energy—a funny living lump of dust.
After Diagon Alley we went shopping for clothes. Hermione's approach to these issues pleased very much, and shopping did not drag on—just buying everything needed, without any endless fittings and other things.
On the way ho I reflected that so of my talents and capabilities were revealed. But I myself did not intend to keep them secret forever, and have repeatedly revealed sothing. The main thing, it seems to , is that good people learn about them, and, as I already noted, Sthwyck is one of them.
In the evening, after dinner and socializing with the family, I sat in my room creating a bracelet with the Minor Cleansing circuit, as I call this miracle weave, similar to a bunch of grapes, only instead of berries there are complex spheres of many symbols and lines. I decided to implent this through forging with a hamr with an interchangeable head. Visualized the circuit, saturated it with magic, placed it in the head, keeping it from decay, screwed on the head, swung and hit the simple tal bracelet created by transfiguration. Ringing, sparks, all that, but with an effort of will I prevented the dissipation of magic around, and even without this my manipulations are extrely precise, unlike local wizardry, throwing this very magic in all directions and radiating like... Like I don't know what.
The bracelet was a success. Elven diagnostics confirm this. Packing it, I sent it along with the owlet, proudly bearing the na Khrustik [Crunch], and went to bed, expecting so ssage from the Ministry or Hogwarts half the night, saying, so and so, cast magic on holidays, tut-tut and reprimand. True, I cast in such a way that even if they fix it, they will consider it childish accidental magic, but still...
...Nothing ca—with this thought I woke up and went to do my daily routine. Khrustik, it turns out, returned at night and was quietly sniffling in his house. Yes, not a cage for him, but a house—a big one, with stumps, branches, a bush, and a kennel-nest. He also brought a letter in which Sthwyck thanked for the promptly perford work, enclosing with the letter a small pouch with undetectable extension and weight reduction—it is in it that Galleons are hidden, but I didn't check their number, simply pouring them into a pocket specially calculated for money in one of the backpack sections.
A couple of days parents, Hermione, and I just spent together—a couple of tis got out to London, sat in a cafe, walked around shopping centers, buying what might be needed on the trip, and just walking. And on the fourth day of the holidays we boarded a plane to Paris. And what is surprising—I waited for this with impatience. Seemingly seen a lot already, albeit from shard mories, and little can surprise, but shard mory remains only shard mory—those mories still seem only fully imrsive movies. They cannot compare with what happens here and now. And that is wonderful.
. . . . .
In a rich and beautiful manor, albeit not particularly large, the morning began with the routine familiar to everyone: house-elves prepared breakfast and set the table in the dining room; the head of the family read a fresh issue of the Prophet, sipping tea; the beautiful wife kept company with the head of the family, and concurrently husband; a blonde angel girl hardly switched from running to a step worthy of a lady, entering the dining room... And everything, it would seem, is excellent.
"Astoria, daughter," smiled the black-haired mistress of the house, Sophia Greengrass. "Do you know if Daphne will co down soon?"
"Don't know, Mom. Good morning, Father."
"Good morning," William nodded, looking out from behind the newspaper. "Maybe call your sister? Where is she anyway?"
Of course, there was nothing to worry about. However, Daphne, who was expected for breakfast, t this morning not as she was used to. Besides the fact that it began not with lazy stretches in bed, but with a rapid dash to the bathroom, the nightgown was also sweaty, and beca surprisingly toxic-slling. But after the shower, nausea also rolled over Daphne, and now she did not risk moving far from a certain white throne known to everyone, about which it is not accepted to speak in decent society.
"Damn old man..." grumbled the brunette, sitting on a stool next to this very throne, and swaying back and forth. "It will be bad, dearie, it will be bad..."
Falling silent with concentration, Daphne froze for a couple of seconds, but then began to sway back and forth again, exhaling.
"And how could I forget... Phew... That all his 'useful, dearie, very useful'... End in a similar way?"
Daphne swayed a little more on the stool.
"Damn old man, huh..." the girl continued to be indignant. "Well, nothing, I'll endure. He promises a good result..."
Only ten minutes later, when a house-elf brought a potion promoting the absorption of excess in the body and removal in a more traditional, and less radical form, did Daphne allow herself to go down to breakfast. Naturally, such a late appearance did not go without a reprimand, but this did not worry the girl—she was already imagining how in a year or two, or better right now, she would beco the healthiest, and ideally also beautiful. And if she doesn't, then old man Sthwyck better run. Run and not look back, for she will definitely not forget such an awakening.
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