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Chapter 12 : To Save Her Life
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The woman softly stirred from her sleep, taking a deep waking breath. As she sat up, her long hair fell back to her shoulders, and her bright brown eyes met their mirror image as she looked at Nyah, a soft smile landing on her full lips.
Nyah simply whispered … “Mum.”
~amazing chapter image by chiQs09 at TDA~
Chapter 12 – To Save Her Life
Nyah sat up in the bed at St. Mungo’s, fully awake, staring at the woman sitting next to her; she was beautiful, just like Nyah knew she would be … but still … there was something …
“Good morning,” the woman said, rising from her seat. Still yawning, she stretched her arms towards the ceiling, trying to get her body moving. “I can’t believe I fell asleep. Are you hungry? I can send down for some food.”
Nyah stared, her brows furrowed, unable to look away. The woman stood a little shorter than Hermione, with thick, wavy red hair. Her heart-shaped face and full lips were kind, but unfamiliar.
“Mum?” Nyah asked timidly.
The woman spun around, looking behind her, as if very startled by Nyah’s question.
Touching her chest, and adding a sad smile to her face, she said, “No dear … I’m not you’re Mum. I’m sorry. My name is Susan. I work as an aide here at the hospital.”
Nyah lay back on the bed and simply stared at the window. Hard, raw emotions filled her heart … Why couldn’t my Mum or Dad have been here? Why aren’t they looking for me? she cursed silently – tears soaking her pillow.
Susan continued to talk to her … about Hermione and something called Aurors – or investigators – but Nyah didn’t hear anything but the sound of her heart beating furiously against her chest …
Of course it wasn’t my Mum … that would be too easy … too perfect … waking up, alone, in a hospital after fighting off two grown men. Why did I expect her to be here? She has no idea I’m here … and maybe – just maybe - she doesn’t even care.
Nyah’s thoughts were running wild, and the tears were unrelenting … burning her eyes as they fell. Her body began mounting its attack … on emotions … the hurt … and the pain.
The agony spilled over her like a waterfall … an all-too-familiar feeling to Nyah, but this time was different. The magic and pain within the young girl was ever-changing. The more she learned and evolved – the magic adjusted and shifted within her – and the pain grew exponentially to counteract it.
The ache began in Nyah’s head and quickly spread down her torso. The pain hungrily fed on her every thought and yearning … for someone to be there … just for her … the sound of her father’s laughter – the sight of her mother’s smile – the song – the promise – the love … all stolen from her.
Her breathing became unsteady and the pain was coming faster than the tears … Nyah let out an involuntary scream, clutching her head.
Susan ran for the door, calling for Healer Sabinski. Molly and Hermione had been in the hall; Hermione ready to leave for home, as Molly was coming to stay with Nyah. Abandoning Ron and the children where they stood, Molly and Hermione raced to Nyah’s side.
Nyah was curled in a ball on the bed, struggling to somehow regain control of herself. Far in the distance, separate from the pain, Nyah heard voices as the electricity ran its course through her body, her hands becoming unwilling weapons. She heard someone near her scream, but Nyah was unable to contain it … and it was still building.
“Nyah … stop, please … come back to me.”
The sound of Hermione’s voice broke through the barrier of pain.
“I – can’t – stop! Leave!” were the last words Nyah spoke before an onslaught of magic was unleashed in the room.
The point had come … Nyah was giving in … too tired to fight it. The internal battle raged within the young girl as Molly and Hermione watched helplessly, unable to reach her.
Over the chaos, Healer Sabinski looked at Molly and Hermione. “I’m sorry … there’s no other way,” she said, laying a hand on Hermione’s arm.
“Tempus Abdomagi!” rang through the room as red sparks flew out of the end of Healer Sabinski’s wand, which was pointed directly at Nyah’s heart.
A scream escaped Nyah’s lips as her small body went limp and silence filled the room; her magic stripped from her – temporarily, by the healer’s spell. Hermione and Molly rushed to Nyah’s bed, wanting to hold her, but afraid to hurt her. They looked to Healer Sabinski as she walked to Nyah’s side. An evaluation wand was waved over Nyah from head to toe as readings were taken and relayed to the healer-in-training. Healer Sabinski shook her head, not believing what she was seeing. A second and third reading confirmed the diagnosis.
“No … it can’t be,” she said, taking a step back from Nyah’s bed. Healer Sabinski shook her head, her eyes fearful.
“What? What is it?” Hermione asked, fearing the worst. “Is she – is she … dead?”
“No, no,” the healer explained, composing herself, “it’s just that … well, I – I’ve never seen this particular spell before.” She walked around the bed, not taking her eyes off of the unresponsive girl. “There has been dark magic,” she whispered to Molly and Hermione, “dark magic used on Nyah. This particular spell … I’ve only read about it … and never – never seen it actually used.”
Molly was visibly shaking, worry overwhelming her. “What spell is it? Is there an antidote or counterspell … something,” she asked the healer. “She can’t live like this.” Molly reached out and touched Nyah’s face, her warmth in such contrast to the young girl’s cold skin.
Sighing, Healer Sabinski, shook her head. “It’s an ancient spell, similar to the one I used to temporarily block her magic - but it’s dark – illegal in fact. Whoever used this spell did it without cause or concern for Nyah’s safety – or his own.”
Both Molly and Hermione looked to the healer for more answers.
“The spell, if not given precisely, can have catastrophic results on the giver, as well as the receiver.” Healer Sabinski pursed her lips together thinking, as the healer-in-training wrote furiously, trying to keep up. “What is interesting is that directly after the ‘magiaboleo’ spell was given … the ‘obliviate’ spell was performed.” She tapped her wand on the foot of the bed, frustrated her mind wasn’t working fast enough. Purple sparks emitted from the tip with every furious tap – and then – bright blue, as the healer gasped.
The healer turned to Molly, smiling … “He made a mistake.”
Hermione’s face was fierce with concentration, silently cursing herself for not having parchment and a quill handy. She followed the healers every movement, her arms wrapped about her chest, as if holding herself together.
Molly stood at Nyah’s side, never releasing the young girl’s chilly hand from her own.
“A mistake, what kind of mistake?” Hermione asked, calculating all the information the healer was offering.
“Well, if I am correct, a spell was performed to try and abolish, or destroy, Nyah’s magic,” the healer began, as Hermione and Molly both nodded, “but the mistake was in performing the ‘obliviate’ charm directly after. It would have rendered the spell before it somehow – incomplete – not quite taking its effect off completely, but rendering Nyah’s magic an absolute mess, fragmented, which explains the outbursts. Whoever did this wanted her magic gone, as well as her memories.”
The room was silent, giving everyone time to think, which wasn't a particularly good thing.
“What now,” Molly quietly asked, her voice betraying her composed features. “How do we correct it?”
“I’m not sure I have the answer for that, Molly. Let me go and retrieve a book from our library. I’ll be just a moment,” Healer Sabinski said, as she nearly ran from the room, eager to get to the small room down the hall.
Hermione had set about pacing the room; she always thought better when she was moving, but her train of thought kept going in circles, and her head was starting to hurt. She eventually sat in a chair next to the bed, looking between Nyah and Molly.
Although they had only known this young girl for a few short days, Molly’s capacity to love her was endless, as was Hermione’s. What drew them to Nyah was indescribable, but Hermione knew something had to be done. Silently, the two women tended to the child as best they could; covering her with warm blankets, washing off her face, and brushing the hair out of her eyes.
Nyah’s face looked pale, her eyes sunken. Her skin was cold and clammy, and Molly continued to adjust the blankets, trying to do something … anything … that might help.
“Who did this to you?” Molly muttered to Nyah, her face flushed with temporary anger, as she adjusted the blankets once again, not accomplishing anything more than keeping busy.
The door burst open, sending parchment flying in all directions. The healer-in-training quickly ran about, gathering the pages to her chest. Quickly taking a seat, she poised herself, ready to write again.
Healer Sabinski’s tall, thin body was nearly dwarfed by the enormous book she had set out to retrieve. The book was clearly extremely old – its pages of parchment were paper-thin and brittle in areas – the ink faded, nearly unreadable.
Hermione ached to reach out and scan the book, always hungry for knowledge, but realized this was perhaps, not the best time.
The healer's finger came to rest on a page not quite in the middle of the leather-bound book and, at first, simply shook her head … but then quickly turned to a page much further back in the book, her face softening a bit. She looked at Hermione and said simply, “There is hope.”
As per the book on page 433, “…the last recorded spell of this magnitude was performed in 1832 by a witch on her only child. She was trying to rid him of his magic so her muggle husband wouldn’t know she was a witch or their son, a wizard. The spell backfired with lethal results. Not only did the child die, but his mother died two days later, both having suffered such a breakdown of their magic that it physically altered their bodies to the point that the body was unable to sustain life…”
Molly gasped and Hermione began pacing again, now coming to realize how fragile Nyah’s life was.
Healer Sabinski held up a single finger and continued reading from page 1256, “… a spell which was made illegal in 1833 from a failed attempt to obliterate the magic in a young wizard causing death, came into view once again in the summer of 1901, when a small child was brought in – her parents claiming that a dark wizard had performed a spell on their daughter called ‘magiannullo’. The young girl was physically ailing and very near death. After numerous attempts to lift the spell, a blood cleansing was performed by the patient’s mother. The patient regained consciousness, but was unable to recover any magical ability until 1909 when the dark wizard was captured and admitted to performing the illegal spell. Before his hanging, he performed the countercurse, thus lifting the spell completely …”
Dust flew from the pages as the healer closed the book. Healer Sabinski covered the front of the book with her hand, deep in thought. Looking between Molly and Hermione, she theorized, “Both the ‘magiannullo’ spell and the ‘magiaboleo’ spell are designed to destroy the magic within.”
Pacing to match Hermione, the healer continued, “A spell that powerful is nearly impossible to break … unless …” she said, breaking her stride.
“Unless what?” Hermione asked.
“Unless the wizard who placed the spell reverses it, and since we don’t know who took Nyah from her parents, modified her memory, and performed the spell … well … I’m sorry to say that it will be impossible for her to stay in our world,” Healer Sabinski said.
Molly grabbed the railing of the bed for support, unwilling to believe what the healer had just said.
Healer Sabinski continued, “Nyah’s magic is building to dangerous levels, and in the process, it’s getting blocked, causing these strange outbursts accompanied by severe pain. If we don’t find a way to counteract the curse, I’m afraid we’ll have no choice but to completely rupture her magic altogether.”
A gasp rose from not only Molly and Hermione, but the healer-in-training as well.
Hermione’s anger was rising, “No, no – absolutely not! We cannot take away her magic. It’s unthinkable! It’s well … it’s just wrong! You said yourself that it’s illegal.” She turned away from the healer, shaking her head and tears covered her face …
The healer said sympathetically, “Hermione, please understand … it’s the only way to save her life.”
Author's Notes: Let me know what you think... I would love you to leave a review (look for the button below).
I want to thank all of the wonderful people who have guided me thus far, here and over where the 'old people meet'. I'm grateful to all of you.
And to my fantastic readers - thank you - thank you!
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