Tris stood in the reception area, lost in thought. She rarely daydreamed, but her timidity earlier still gnawed at her.
If only I had been braver...
A voice interrupted her thoughts. "Tris, the dean wants you to meet him in the Biological Injury Department on the second floor."
"The dean?" Her eyes lit up. Without hesitation, she hurried upstairs.
The Biological Injury Section was always bustling. Wizards, ever in search of excitement, frequently adopted magical creatures as pets. This inevitably led to injuries, some minor, others severe. St. Mungo's recorded countless cases of magical animal attacks daily, many involving extremely dangerous creatures.
Blake followed Dean Bohan into the "Dai Llewellyn" ward, named after the famed Quidditch player who met a grim fate—eaten by a chimera. The ward's name served as a warning. Blake couldn't help but touch the Master Balls in his pocket, one of which contained a chimera of his own.
The ward was dimly lit, and two men were already inside. Dean Bohan introduced them. The older man, Hippocrates Smethwyk, was the chief therapist, while the younger, Augustus Pye, was a promising trainee close to earning full healer status. Notably, Augustus was Therese Pye's brother.
Smethwyk warmly greeted Dumbledore, who had just arrived. This left Blake and Professor Kettleburn momentarily overlooked. However, Augustus took immediate notice of Blake.
"Are you Blake Greene? The one who invented the life-extending potion?"
Blake nodded. Since Grindelwald had published his photo in the Daily Prophet, there was no use in hiding.
"Nice to meet you." Augustus shook Blake's hand, impressed. On one hand, Blake was a household name in the wizarding world. On the other, Augustus had heard countless tales from his sister about this young genius.
Smethwyk, catching the conversation, turned his gaze toward Blake. He, too, had read the newspapers but hadn't recognized Blake until now. Like Bohan, he was eager to witness Blake's healing techniques firsthand.
"You're Blake! I've wanted to meet you for so long!" Smethwyk grasped Blake's hand enthusiastically.
Dean Bohan, watching with amusement, finally spoke. "Alright, Smethwyk, Blake is here today because of a new treatment method."
"I heard the patient's case!" Smethwyk's eyes gleamed with excitement. "A spell that heals cursed wounds and regenerates limbs? If anyone else claimed such a thing, I'd call it a lie. But since it's you..."
"Do you recognize him?" Bohan gestured toward Professor Kettleburn.
"Of course! Merlin, his injuries were dreadful back then! He was nearly transformed into a... Wait, what?" Smethwyk blinked. Professor Kettleburn rolled up his sleeves, revealing perfectly healed arms.
"Is this... the effect of the curse?" Smethwyk examined Kettleburn's limbs in astonishment.
"Permanent or temporary?"
"Permanent! My arms and legs have completely grown back!" Kettleburn confirmed.
"This is incredible!" Smethwyk's doubts vanished. He now fully believed in the spell's potential.
Blake stood back, smiling. Watching the excitement unfold without needing to say a word was satisfying. Soon, this spell—and many of his future creations—would be widely known, securing his success effortlessly.
A weak voice interrupted. "Does this mean... my injury can be healed?"
Everyone turned to the frail wizard on the hospital bed. Blake noticed the man was missing half of his nose, seemingly bitten off by a magical creature. Dean Bohan had chosen the perfect case for demonstration—reconstructing a nose was far simpler than regrowing an entire limb.
"Yes, Mr. Boss, we've developed a new treatment. It can restore your nose."
"You mean... I won't have to live like this forever?" Mr. Boss asked hopefully.
"Precisely!" Dean Bohan reassured him.
Blake watched as Bohan examined an old photo of Mr. Boss. After a moment of concentration, he raised his wand and cast, "Abitane Tasdi!"
A brilliant blue light filled the dim ward. As expected, the spell worked—Blake had seen the same glow before. The wounded area was enveloped in a faint blue hue, granulation tissue rapidly forming, reorganizing, and rebuilding. Within moments, Mr. Boss's face was whole again.
Blake clapped. "Congratulations, Dean Bohan! And to you, Mr. Boss!"
Bohan grinned proudly, while Smethwyk looked at Blake in awe, barely restraining himself from demanding, "Teach me!"
Tris, who had just arrived, handed Mr. Boss a mirror. Initially confused, he gasped upon seeing his restored nose.
"My nose... it's back!" Overcome with emotion, he vowed, "I'll never go near a fire dragon again!"
Augustus whispered to Blake, "He illegally hatched a fire dragon. It bit off his nose. To avoid Azkaban, he's facing a hefty fine. But considering his nose is back, he doesn't seem to mind."
The ward's atmosphere was electric. Except for Mr. Boss, who was oblivious to Blake's involvement, everyone else was in awe.
"Blake, will you teach me the spell?" Smethwyk finally blurted out.
Dean Bohan smiled. "Blake has already taught me and agreed to its promotion."
"Really?! Blake, your generosity is astonishing!" Smethwyk exclaimed.
Blake shrugged. "Spells that benefit everyone should be shared."
While not everyone could master this curse, he believed in its potential widespread use. His selflessness earned admiration from everyone present. Soon, treasure chests—metaphorical or literal—would flood his path.
"Blake, I'd like to appoint you as St. Mungo's Honorary Counselor!" Bohan announced excitedly.
"Uh... I haven't even graduated yet..." Blake hesitated. Working wasn't part of his plan.
"No need to work! You'll hold the title, receive my salary, and have your contributions displayed in the main hall."
Blake looked at Dumbledore, who smiled. "Accept it. You deserve it. Think of the lives you'll improve."
"Alright, then," Blake relented.
Tris beamed at him. "You're amazing!"
"It's nothing," Blake murmured, touching his wand. Without the Wish-Fulfilling Wand, creating such a spell would've taken months of sleepless nights.
Dumbledore turned to Bohan. "Frankly, I believe Blake's Order of Merlin, Second Class, is insufficient..."
Bohan met Dumbledore's gaze and nodded. "Leave it to me, Albus."
Meanwhile, in France, Gabrielle Delacour pleaded with her father. "Papa, can I go to England with you?"
Mr. Delacour, touched, assumed she was reluctant to part from him.
"Don't worry, ma chérie, I'll be back soon."
"No, Papa, Blake is in England. If I go, I can visit him."
His expression darkened. Where was his sweet, thoughtful daughter? Gone. All because of Blake!
Blake Greene... We are not done yet.
=============
Want to read more?
Join my Patreon
patreon.com/Max1mus
Also Please vote for this work with your Powerstones
And don't forget to leave a review