October arrived with a chill that seeped through the castle walls and settled into the stones. The fifth year had settled into a rhythm for everyone—Edmund's friends buried in O.W.L. preparation, their days filled with revision and practice exams, while Edmund moved between individual tutorials and small-group sessions for his nine niche N.E.W.T. subjects.
He had grown accustomed to the solitude of his classes. Alchemy with Professor Vesta Marchbanks, Ancient Runes with a handful of older students, Divination alone in the North Tower. But the solitude was not loneliness. He saw his friends at meals, in the common room, during prefect patrols. They were on different paths, but they were still walking together.
The announcement came on the second Friday of October. A notice appeared on the common room bulletin board, printed on Ministry letterhead.
**NOTICE: HEALERS IN RESIDENCE**
*For the months of November and December, Hogwarts will host a residency program for healers from St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Three healers will be living in the castle, offering lectures, demonstrations, and informal consultations to students interested in healing magic.*
*The residency is part of a Ministry initiative to encourage young witches and wizards to consider careers in healing. Attendance is voluntary. Interested students should speak to Professor Merrythought for details.*
Edmund read the notice twice. Healers. Living in the castle. For two months. This was exactly what he needed. His N.E.W.T. preparation in Healing Magic was strong—he had been studying independently for years—but practical experience with real healers would be invaluable.
He found Professor Merrythought after class.
"I want to attend," he said.
Merrythought looked at him over her spectacles. "I expected you would. You're not the only one, though. Several of your friends have signed up as well. It seems your interest in healing has been contagious."
Edmund smiled. "Is that a problem?"
"Not at all. The more students who consider healing as a career, the better." She added his name to the list. "The first lecture is on Monday. Don't be late."
---
The residency began on the first Monday of November. The three healers were introduced at breakfast—a witch named Miriam Strout, who specialized in magical creatures and their diseases; a wizard named August Pye, who worked in the Spell Damage ward; and an older woman named Hestia Jones, who had been a healer for forty years.
They were not famous. They were simply healers, doing their work, and they had come to Hogwarts because the Ministry had asked them to.
"This isn't going to be exciting," Hestia Jones said to the group of students who gathered for the first lecture. The room was fuller than Edmund had expected—nearly twenty students, including Arthur and Horace. "Healing is not exciting. It is slow, careful, patient work. Most of what we do is not dramatic. It is watching, waiting, understanding. If you are looking for glory, become an Auror."
Arthur shifted in his seat. He had been talking about the Auror program for years, but here he was, at a healing lecture. Edmund caught his eye and raised an eyebrow. Arthur shrugged.
The lectures were held twice a week, in a small classroom on the third floor. Edmund attended every one, sitting in the front row, his journal open, his quill ready. Arthur and Horace sat behind him, taking notes of their own.
Miriam Strout taught them about the diseases that passed between magical creatures and witches, about the symptoms that were easy to miss, about the potions that could cure what spells could not. She brought in a jar of Bundimun secretion and showed them how to neutralize it without burning the patient's skin.
August Pye showed them the effects of spell damage—the scars that did not heal, the curses that lingered, the slow work of undoing what magic had done. He had a patient's chart, anonymized, and he walked them through the months of treatment required to reverse a botched Stunning Spell.
Hestia Jones told them stories of patients she had lost, and patients she had saved, and the difference between the two.
"The ones who survive are not always the strongest," she said. "They are the ones who have someone to fight for them. Healing is not just about the body. It is about the will. If the patient gives up, there is nothing you can do."
After the lecture, Arthur found Edmund in the corridor. "I didn't expect to be interested," he admitted. "But... it's not what I thought. Healing, I mean. It's not just bandaging wounds. It's about understanding people."
"That's what I've been trying to tell you," Edmund said.
Arthur grinned. "Don't let it go to your head."
---
In December, Hestia Jones asked for volunteers to help her in a practical demonstration. She had brought a small creature—a kneazle with a broken leg, injured in an accident—and she wanted to show the students how to set the bone and apply the healing spell.
Edmund's hand went up. So did Horace's. So did Arthur's.
"Three volunteers," Hestia said, smiling. "Come forward."
They walked to the front of the room. The kneazle was hissing, its leg bent at an unnatural angle. Hestia handed Edmund the creature.
"You've done this before," she said. It was not a question.
"Yes," Edmund said. "During the residency in fourth year."
"Then you can assist. Show your friends how it's done."
Edmund placed his hands on the kneazle, feeling its fur, its warmth, its fear. The ring pulsed. He did not think about the spell. He thought about the bone, the way it should be, the way the creature wanted to be whole.
"Hold it still," he said to Arthur.
Arthur placed his hands on the kneazle's body, gentle but firm. Horace stood ready with a potion—a mild sedative that Hestia had prepared.
"Now," Hestia said.
Edmund cast the healing spell. The kneazle's leg straightened, the bone knitting together, the fur smoothing over the wound. The creature stopped hissing. It looked at Edmund, blinked once, and purred.
The room was quiet. Hestia Jones looked at Edmund for a long moment.
"Well done," she said. "You have steady hands. And you," she looked at Arthur and Horace, "have steady nerves. That's half of healing."
---
The residency ended at Christmas. The three healers packed their things and returned to St. Mungo's, and the small classroom on the third floor went back to being empty. Edmund had learned more in two months than he had in years of reading. He had healed a living creature in front of his friends, and they had seen what healing could be.
The system pulsed.
**System Notification: Healers' Residency – Complete**
*Lectures attended: 16 of 16. Practical demonstrations: 6. Healer interactions: 12.*
**Rewards:**
*- +200 XP*
*- Healing Magic N.E.W.T. preparation increased: 68%*
*- New Skill Unlocked: Creature Healing (Advanced)*
**New Connection Unlocked:** Healer Miriam Strout (Potential mentor for independent research)
Edmund dismissed the interface and walked to the Great Hall for the Christmas feast. The ring was warm on his finger, but it was a quiet warmth, a private warmth.
At the Slytherin table, Cassius was already deep in conversation with a fifth-year Ravenclaw about O.W.L. study strategies. Arthur was telling Horace about a Patronus Charm he had nearly mastered. Astrid was carving a rune stone, her knife moving in small, precise strokes.
Edmund sat down beside them.
"You're back," Cassius said. "How was the healing thing?"
"Informative. You should have come."
"I'd rather not see blood."
"Healing isn't about blood. It's about helping people."
Cassius shrugged. "I'll stick to Quidditch. Fewer screaming patients."
Arthur laughed. "You've never seen a Quidditch injury, have you?"
---
The second half of fifth year began after the holiday break. The O.W.L.s were looming for Edmund's friends—only five months away—and the pressure was mounting. The common room, once a place of relaxation, had become a study hall. Students hunched over textbooks, quizzed each other on potion ingredients, and practiced wand movements in their spare moments.
Edmund continued his niche N.E.W.T. studies, moving through the material at a steady pace. He had made significant progress in Alchemy, Ancient Runes, and Healing Magic. Wardcraft and Arithmancy were coming along more slowly. Divination remained a struggle—he could produce the occasional vague image in a crystal ball, but nothing reliable.
"You're too logical," Trelawney said for the hundredth time. "You must let go of your need for certainty. The future is not certain. It is a web of possibilities."
Edmund tried to let go. He stared into the crystal ball, emptied his mind, and waited. A shape formed—a face, familiar, but he could not place it. Then it was gone.
"What did you see?" Trelawney asked.
"A face. Someone I know. But I don't know who."
Trelawney nodded sagely. "The Sight does not give answers. It gives questions. Your task is to ask the right ones."
---
The system tracked his progress across all subjects.
**Progress – End of February**
*N.E.W.T. Preparation (Niche Subjects – Year 5):*
- Alchemy: 55%
- Ancient Runes: 60%
- Arithmancy: 52%
- Care of Magical Creatures: 58%
- Divination: 35%
- Muggle Studies: 62%
- History of Magic: 48%
- Healing Magic: 72%
- Wardcraft: 60%
*Core Subjects (Self-Study for Year 6 N.E.W.T. classes):*
- Charms: 65%
- Transfiguration: 58%
- Potions: 68%
- Defence Against the Dark Arts: 55%
- Herbology: 52%
- Astronomy: 48%
He was on track. By the end of fifth year, he would have a solid foundation in all nine niche subjects. Next year, he would add the six core subjects to his schedule, joining his friends in those classes. The year after that, he would review everything and sit for his N.E.W.T.s.
Three years. Fifteen subjects. He was doing it.
---
March arrived, and with it, the final push toward the O.W.L.s for Edmund's friends. The library was crowded every evening, the common room filled with the sound of frantic revision. Edmund helped where he could—quizzing Horace on potion ingredients, testing Arthur on Defence theory, explaining Transfiguration principles to Cassius.
"You're a better teacher than Wainwright," Cassius said one evening, after Edmund had explained the wand movement for a complex Vanishing Spell for the fourth time.
"Wainwright has to teach thirty students. I only have to teach you."
"Still."
Astrid studied alone, as always, her rune stones spread across the table. But she asked Edmund questions sometimes—about Arithmancy, about Ancient Runes, about the connections between the two. She was preparing for her O.W.L.s in those subjects, and she wanted to be ready.
"You're taking N.E.W.T. level in these," she said one evening. "You must know the material backward."
"I know it well enough. But N.E.W.T. level is different from O.W.L. level. The questions are harder. The expectations are higher."
"Then teach me the N.E.W.T. level. I'd rather overprepare than under."
Edmund smiled. "All right."
---
April passed. May arrived. The O.W.L.s were two weeks away, and the tension in the castle was palpable. Edmund's friends had stopped coming to meals, preferring to eat sandwiches in the library. Their eyes were red, their hair disheveled, their tempers short.
"You look terrible," Edmund said to Cassius one morning at breakfast—the first time he had seen him at the table in days.
"I feel terrible. I've been studying Arithmancy until two in the morning."
"Why? You're not even taking Arithmancy for O.W.L."
"Because I'm an idiot who decided to help Astrid with her revision, and now I can't stop."
Edmund laughed. "That's the most Cassius thing you've ever said."
---
The O.W.L.s began on the first Monday of June. Edmund watched his friends walk into the Great Hall, their faces pale, their hands clutching quills and wands. He wished them luck, then walked to his own classes—individual tutorials and small-group sessions that continued through the examination period.
He was not taking O.W.L.s this year. He had taken them last year. But he was taking N.E.W.T.-level classes, and those did not pause for the examinations of lower years.
When the exams were over, his friends emerged from the Great Hall looking exhausted but relieved. They gathered on the grounds, sprawled on the grass, their faces turned to the sun.
"It's over," Arthur said.
"It's over," Cassius agreed.
Horace was already calculating his expected scores. "I think I got Outstandings in Potions and Herbology. Maybe Charms. Transfiguration was harder."
Astrid said nothing. She sat apart, her rune stones in her hands, her eyes closed. But when she opened them, she smiled.
"We'll find out in July," she said. "Worrying won't change anything."
Edmund lay on the grass beside them and looked up at the sky. His fifth year was almost over. Next year, he would join his friends in the core N.E.W.T. classes. Next year, they would be together again.
He was ready.
---