Chapter 103: Candida
Rita's program was an enormous success. She had already been trying to coax me back for another appearance, saying I had exactly the right presence for television, and that I was honest with people about the limits of their understanding while still making every effort to explain things clearly. Beyond that, programs featuring me never descended into farce, which meant people left with a genuine understanding of what had been discussed, rather than being distracted by unnecessary drama.
Even the attack that had occurred during the broadcast had, in its way, demonstrated to everyone that I was not merely talking, that I was genuinely preparing for difficult times. People were, quite simply, hungry to see me again. I had to agree to another appearance, though the only date I could find was the very end of August, which was the sole window I could carve out of my schedule.
"Are you ready?"
I looked at Candida's portrait, which lay at the center of an elaborate ritual diagram. All the teachers were present, including Dumbledore, and if I am entirely honest, I would have been more than happy to hand the honor of conducting this ritual to someone else. Flitwick, perhaps. Or Dumbledore. But no, Candida had insisted that I perform it myself.
"Get on with it, then."
Candida looked at me with barely concealed anxiety. I sighed and activated the ritual, which was expected to last over seven hours. Seven hours for me to build a complete corporeal spirit-form for one of the school's Founders.
And it would not simply be a matter of standing there; I would have to make sacrifices throughout, as well as channel my own magic to assist the forming body.
"First stage."
I said it quietly, with a sad smile, because as I spoke, the portrait of the Founder began to fade, and a faint wisp of smoke rose from it, straining upward, only for the soul-trap to engage. Though 'soul-trap' was not quite the right name for it. Candida herself had reworked the original ritual, and what remained was something designed to contain even the kind of soul-imprint she and the other Founders had become.
"Mother..."
Helena, hovering nearby, pressed both hands to her mouth but dared not move forward, knowing perfectly well that any impatience on her part could cost her mother the pseudolife she already possessed, and the truer life she might yet be given.
I walked to one of the designated points within the ritual diagram, where a strong young bull stood restrained, and took its head with a single Severing Charm. Swiftly, without pain. Its life-energy was absorbed immediately into the ritual while its body shriveled and became a husk.
"The next one."
The remains of the bull flew obediently toward the wall at a gesture of my wand, and Flitwick drew another from the bottomless trunk, and I levitated it into the position the first had occupied. It was too soon to kill it yet, so I immobilized it and moved toward Candida's still-forming silhouette, beginning to direct energy to assist her.
Everything I was doing had been planned down to the finest detail. I was nervous, but I understood perfectly well that there was nothing here to go wrong, not if I followed the sequence precisely.
Occlumency let me stay in control, checking myself three times before every action, a luxury for which I felt profound relief.
The second bull...
The third...
And then at last I could see a faint, still translucent figure of Candida suspended in the air, her lips moving in silence. No sound reached us. But the fact that it was working at all filled me with a rush of encouragement.
The fourth bull. The fifth. The sixth.
And Candida began to acquire the kind of density, if such a word could be applied to a ghost, and the kind of color, if any of the shades of white and gray could be called color, that was proper to her kind. Realizing we could not hear her, Candida stopped trying to say anything and simply watched me work.
It was deeply moving. And deeply terrifying, because several masters were watching my every movement, including the other Founders, whose portraits had been positioned in a separate part of the room, well outside the ritual's reach.
"Time for the next stage."
I said it when Candida's form had fully taken shape, or rather, when it had acquired the density it needed. What remained was considerably more difficult: weaving into her form the specific enchantments that would allow her to interact fully with Hogwarts. This was the genuinely hard part, because my wand had to move in ways it had never quite been asked to move before.
Or rather, it had. During training, when I had drilled every step of this ritual until it was entirely automatic. But trained or not, I was still frightened. I simply had no choice but to drive that fear down somewhere deep and keep it there.
Another bull was sacrificed, and I continued weaving the necessary charms into the forming spirit's substance, only allowing myself the slightest breath of relief when it was done. But it was far from over.
The very possibility of weaving those charms into Candida's body depended on the fact that her form still had no mechanism of self-sustenance. The moment the ritual ceased, it would dissolve into smoke, taking everything I had put into it with it. And now I had to create that mechanism, to anchor it to Candida's essence, while my fingers had already begun to tremble with exhaustion. Which did not mean I could stop. It meant I had to be even more careful, so that fatigue did not produce an error.
Seconds stretched into minutes. Minutes into hours. Hours into something that felt like days.
At some point I became genuinely convinced that I would drop my wand, that it would simply fall, that the ritual would remain unfinished, and I would have to begin the whole thing again from the very first step, rebinding the imprint of Candida's soul and personality to the portrait. But somehow, through some minor miracle, I held on. My hand kept moving. The wand kept tracing its symbols in the air.
"Done."
The word left my lips, and I simply collapsed onto the floor. I made no effort to preserve any dignity. My fingers opened and the wand fell, sending a small shower of sparks across the stone as it rolled away from me. My hands were shaking, and a fierce, unrelenting cramp was seizing every finger.
"You worked well."
Candida bent over me and drew her ghostly hand through my hair.
"Mother!" And in the next instant, ghostly Helena launched herself at ghostly Candida and pulled her into an embrace.
"My darling."
The love and joy in the Founder's voice were unmistakable.
"Mum... Mum..."
"I think we had better take Mr Black to Poppy."
Flitwick collected my wand from the floor, levitated me with a charm, and carried me off in the direction of the hospital wing.
"Draco, I am proud of you."
I managed a weak smile at my mentor's words.
"...and frankly, you could already lay claim to the rank of Master."
Those words produced an immediate flicker of anxiety. I was well aware of just how much knowledge I still lacked. If he was about to tell me he was entering me for the examination...
"...and so I am giving you a choice. I can remain your mentor for another year, though practically speaking, there is almost nothing left to teach you. All that remains is to keep training, and in time you will reach the heights you are aiming for. Alternatively, I will enter you for the Master's examination, and you would sit it before the end of this month."
"I'm in no particular hurry."
I smiled faintly.
"Or rather, there are things I'm in a hurry to do, but what I need most is knowledge. So I would prefer to remain your apprentice for another year."
I said it in a weak voice.
"Good. That means I was not wrong about you."
Flitwick gave a satisfied nod.
"Not wrong about me? What do you mean?"
"You see, any reasonably sound-minded master gives their apprentice the choice I just gave you. It is designed to identify those who are too eager to rush ahead."
"So it was a test?"
"No, it was entirely genuine. I would truly have entered you for the examination, and you would have passed it. To the world at large, you would be a Master. But to other Masters..."
Flitwick shook his head.
"...the emblem awarded to a Master who completed the full course of training differs ever so slightly from the one given to someone who chose to leave their apprenticeship early. If you don't know what you're looking for, you'd never notice the difference. But everyone who has completed the full training knows it's there, and knows what it means."
I gave a lopsided smile.
"Masters among Masters?"
"Precisely."
Flitwick bared his teeth in a satisfied grin.
"And you will become one of them. After that, you'll be able to take your girls as apprentices and pass all your knowledge on to them, though bear in mind that even though they are your fiancées, you must give them the same choice."
"I... can't claim to fully understand why that rule exists: it seems to me it would be more effective simply to keep apprentices in training until they've mastered everything they should. But I won't go against the Guild's traditions."
"Good."
Flitwick gave a nod, and soon we arrived at the hospital wing.
"Well, young man, you've found your way to me after all."
"I have."
I gave a weak smile. "And since I'm here, might I ask you a favor?"
"Hmm. That depends on the favor."
"You see, I am desperately short of medical staff in the district, and..."
"I am not leaving the school."
"No, you misunderstand me."
I shook my head.
"I have no intention of leaving Hogwarts without its Healer, though if you ever tire of patching up children and find yourself a worthy replacement, we would be very glad to have someone of your caliber with us. But there is another way. Last academic year, I gave Susan Bones several manuals on healing magic. I supervised the practical work myself; I know the spells, even if I'm not a Healer. And on the strength of how she performed, I arranged for her to be taken on as an intern at St Mungo's."
"And you want me to continue her training when she returns to Hogwarts, and perhaps take on her formal instruction as well."
Our conversation in no way prevented the school mediwitch from doing her actual job, which at the moment consisted of relieving the cramp in my muscles and applying enchantments that produced something resembling a deep-tissue massage.
"Yes. She is a determined girl, and more importantly, she has a genuine aptitude for it. I would very much like to see you take her on."
"I'm making no promises."
Madam Pomfrey shook her head.
"However, I will inquire with my colleagues at St Mungo's about how she performed, and I will give her a short examination myself. If I'm satisfied with the results, then so be it, I'll bring her on. I may even take her as a personal apprentice."
"Thank you."
"Too soon."
"No."
I shook my head.
"You agreed to consider spending a portion of your time on this, simply because I asked. That merits gratitude."
"All right, now it's time for you to sleep."
I opened my eyes when a shaft of sunlight found the narrow gap in the tightly drawn curtains and landed precisely on my face.
"Mgh."
I opened my eyes slowly, squinting against the light, and looked around.
"You're awake."
Candida. She was hovering a couple of meters from the bed I was lying in.
"Yes."
"I'm glad. I had begun blaming myself for asking you to perform that ritual. It was beneficial for you, I know, but..."
"Please don't."
I shook my head and threw back the covers to get up.
"And where exactly do you think you're going?!"
The matron's formidable voice stopped me where I was. I turned my head slightly to find her.
"Only to the bathroom. Madam Pomfrey, my mother is a Healer, so I have a reasonably clear idea of how professionals respond when their patients try to escape."
"Hmm."
I was subjected to a deeply suspicious look.
"...very well. I'll take your word for it, this once. The bathroom is over there."
She indicated a small sign above a door in the far corner of the ward.
"Thank you."
I made my way there quickly and freshened up. I would have liked to use magic for some of the more convenient parts, but I didn't dare until Poppy gave me clearance, so I made do with Muggle methods.
"Right. I'm ready."
I was inspected with considerable suspicion.
"Hmm... a conscious patient for once, and not reaching for their wand at the first opportunity."
"As I said, my mother is a Healer. I have a thorough understanding of how to behave if one wishes to avoid being prescribed a therapeutic enema three times a day."
"Ha. All right, let's take a look at you."
Several diagnostic spells were cast over me, after which Madam Pomfrey gave a satisfied nod and waved me toward the door.
"...off you go. And I'll think about the girl."
I thanked her with a nod and made haste to leave the hospital wing. Candida drifted out after me.
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