The room on the fifth floor smelled of dust and old chalk and the tiniest bit of lemon, which was the cleaning solution the house-elves used for desks.
He had brought a chair.
He’d brought the notebook.
And he had brought fresh parchment and a quill and a inkbottle, which he had set up on his chair, so that he could take notes after the cast without having to walk anywhere.
He’d brought, in his pocket, a pebble he had picked up in the courtyard a week ago — for no practical reason, he realised in that moment, except that he needed something in his pocket.
He had told Hermione and Neville to wait outside.
He’d told them to come in if they didn’t hear from him within ninety seconds.
He had also told them, both, that he loved them — he had said it lightly, casually, like leaving for the dentist — and Hermione had given him that look, that *Cael, do not be theatrical*, and Neville had given him that look, that *Cael, I heard you, it was not theatrical*, and they had both, with admirable restraint, left for the corridor.
He sat in the chair.
He took three slow breaths.
He had, until that moment, failed to fully appreciate the fact that the cast was going to involve him *wanting* to Avada Kedavra himself.
And he had done the wand-form practice.
And he had done the casting on birds and mice.
But those had been other living beings.
Now he was the living being.
His wand would need him to want the spell in the same way it needed others — and wanting an AK at his own face was the sort of thing he had never before asked his own internal framework to achieve.
He considered the process.
Specifically, he considered the inverse of it.
And he thought of the idea that *an inverse of severing is vitalising*.
He thought of the bird, with its wing reattaching, and the owl breathing again.
And he thought of the mouse, running around in a little circle.
He held all of these thoughts in his chest.
He raised his wand.
He pointed it at his chest.
And he cast.
“*Avada Kedavra.*” The light, now, was in front of his own eyes.
He saw it in his peripheral vision, expanding from the wand as a burst of golden light spreading rapidly around him even as he registered it.
He felt the warmth against his face.
He felt the warmth against his chest.
And he also felt, in his mind, the recognition of the magic recognising him.
The magic asked his body, “What do you need?” And his body, which had no injuries or diseases, no acute problems or chronic conditions — nothing — and in its place — produced, rather, surplus.
The surplus came to him as a warm, bright feeling.
It wasn’t pain.
Nor was it, exactly, pleasure — though it was close enough to the sort of pleasure he received after a long cold day and a nice hot bath.
And it was also clarity.
And focus.
And the sensation Cael experienced in the library when the research started to click into place.
And twice as intensely so, in his chest, for about four seconds.
He felt the steadiness of his heartbeat.
He also felt a strain he had in his left shoulder — which had been causing him problems for a week from carrying his trunk wrong — disappear.
He also felt the dryness in his throat, from too many hours of talking the previous day, vanish — and the ringing in his right ear, from a Charms lesson a week prior — disappear, too.
Given the surplus, the body knew how to make use of it for maintenance.
The light vanished.
And he sat in the chair.
He noticed, somewhat detached from the experience, that he felt extremely well.
Not “high”.
Not euphoric.
Not “great” or “fantastic”.
He felt, as though, like a person who had just enjoyed an excellent night’s rest and an excellent breakfast and was ready for a good morning.
He also felt, in terms of cognition, a notch sharper, as though somebody had opened a window on a stuffy day and allowed the breeze in.
He picked up the quill.
He wrote down, immediately, in real time, on the parchment next to him, *Onset: immediate.
Peak: approximately two seconds in.
Duration: approximately four seconds for the acute stage.
Feelings: warmth, full-body well-being, mild clarity.
No pain.
No nausea.
No disorientation.
No motor impairment.
Minor aches and irritations resolved (left shoulder strain, throat dryness, ear ringing).
Heart rate steady.
Magic feels the same; slight edge perhaps?
Impossible to tell.* He stopped.
He listened.
The corridor remained silent.
He looked at his pocket watch.
Ninety-two seconds had passed since he cast the spell.
He stood up.
He went to the door.
He opened it.
Hermione was precisely where he left her, holding the coin-charm in one hand and her wand in another, and the whiteness of her face that he hadn’t seen before.
“I’m fine,” She closed her eyes.
Opened them.
She carefully stowed the coin-charm, performing an almost self-congratulatory ritual to prevent crying.
“Come in here.
Both of you.” They came in.
He closed the door.
He gave them the parchment to read.
Hermione read it slowly, holding it up to the light.
Neville read it after her.
They stopped simultaneously to look at him.
“Cael.” “Yes.” “You are — you — ” “I’m fine.
The theory was correct.
It generates, on a healthy subject, a vitality burst lasting a few seconds.
I’d say I’m experiencing residual well-being that lasts some time after the initial experience.
This feeling is pleasant and not interfering.
I’m essentially fine.” “Cael, this is — ” “Yes.” “This will change everything.” “That, yes.” She put the parchment away.
She hid her face behind her hands for two seconds and took them off.
Cael saw her eyes misty with tears — but did not see the tears do anything else than that.
She wiped one corner of one eye with the back of her hand and calmed herself.
“Right.
Alright.
Listen Cael.
Here’s what we’re going to do: you and I write this test down.
I’m going to take it to Madam Pomfrey, because she needs to know this, and because she is the most senior healer at this institution, and because Madam Pomfrey can take this information and distribute it in the wider medical community, where it belongs.
We are going to do this.
And we are going to do this *right*.
And we will not disclose this to the school, at least initially.
Okay?” “Yes.” “And after that — after this — we tell Snape.” “I told Snape on Tuesday.” “You — ” “I told Snape on Tuesday.
About the bird.
Snape, *Granger*.
That is why we are doing this today.” She looked at him.
She did not become angry.
Instead, she gave him one of those smiles a Hermione gave only when she realised that her position was outmaneuvered in a satisfying manner.
“Of course,” “Of course you told Snape first.
The man is your favorite teacher.” “He is not.” “He is.” “He is — ” “He is, Cael.
Stop arguing.” Neville, who hadn’t spoken since, with quiet intensity, “I think I need to sit down.” Cael led him to the chair.
He sat with his head between his knees for about half a minute.
When he came up, paler than usual but composed.
“All right.” “All right.
Right.
So we’re changing medicine.” “Apparently.” “At fourteen.” “Apparently.” “Cael — ” “What.” “We should probably find somewhere to eat, alright?” “Yes.” Cael.
“Yeah.” They descended to the kitchens.
Where house-elves, who had by this time formed a special affection for the boy who had fallen because Dobby — somehow and incomprehensibly — had explained the whole affair to them in confidence earlier in the year and had relayed this explanation to the cooks in his own fashion, made bread, cheese, grapes, and a small pot of tea.
He ate.
He ate double portions of cheese.
He drank tea.
He sat between Hermione and Neville on a wooden bench in the kitchens, listened to the hum of magical mechanisms and quiet elf chatter, and felt, not euphoric, but cleansed, as though he had just emerged from the long unpleasant winter and finally seen spring arrive.
The AK had worked.
The theory was right.
He could heal the dying and recharge the well, and it had done nothing bad to him in return.
He had, realising slowly as he sat on the bench, just altered his life forever.
He was going to have to buy a notebook with more pages than before.
He ate another grape.
He filed the thought away.
You can find 40 pre-release chapters over on the site that must not be named, for only $3!