Chapter Forty-Two: The School Infirmary

As the blue curtain of light faded, Xiwen, Professor Kettleburn, the unicorn, and the little cat all plummeted from the sky. Xiwen, utterly exhausted, let go of Celise’s neck and collapsed onto his back, powerless. At the same time, he felt the soft body of the kitten land on his chest.

After a couple of gentle coughs, he reached out and gathered the little cat into his arms, gazing up at the deep night sky, where countless stars began to blur and double before his eyes. In the final moment before he lost consciousness, Xiwen caught a glimpse of Dumbledore’s silhouette descending from the sky.

He closed his eyes in relief.

...

When Xiwen opened his eyes again, he beheld an arched dome upheld by marble columns and soaring Gothic windows. Around him hung white curtains and immaculate white bedclothes, while the pungent scent of magical potions filled the air.

He realized he was in the school infirmary.

“You’re awake?” A clear female voice sounded beside him.

Xiwen turned his head to see a tall witch in white robes changing the bandages on Professor Kettleburn’s thigh at the adjacent bed. Where the professor’s only remaining left leg had been whole, now, below the bandages, there was nothing at all!

Xiwen’s heart skipped a beat, and his eyes brimmed with sudden tears.

“Professor, your leg?!” He tried to sit up, but the white-robed witch pressed a firm hand to his shoulder, pinning him back to the bed.

“Lie still! Don’t move!” she said sternly. “You inhaled far too much Nanduleopard venom and completely overtaxed your magic—and this isn’t the first or even second time you’ve done so lately! Do all first-years take such reckless chances these days?”

Professor Kettleburn, pale-faced, quickly tried to reassure Xiwen, speaking in his usual hearty manner: “Don’t worry, lad! It’s not the first time one of those big creatures has bitten off a leg of mine. You get used to it after a while!”

Xiwen lay back, closing his eyes, but a single tear slipped from their corner. Since coming to this world, this was the first time he had felt so powerless.

He had always believed that, armed with the spellcraft of Kamar-Taj, he could easily extricate himself from any situation, no matter who he faced in this new world. Yet last night, he had been helpless against the grievous injury suffered by the professor right beside him. In the end, it was only with the help of the unicorn and the little cat that he had managed to escape the dark wizard’s pursuit in disgrace.

For the first time, he realized deeply that in this world, there were dangers beyond the perilous spells—such as the deadly Nanduleopard, a magical beast capable of taking his life with ease!

“A wizard will always encounter setbacks on the road of magical exploration. A temporary defeat is nothing; only by overcoming adversity again and again can one become truly strong.”

Dumbledore’s voice, reciting like poetry, interrupted Xiwen’s bleak reverie.

Xiwen opened his bleary eyes to look at him.

“I’ve come to see the young wizard who missed class,” Dumbledore said with a wink and a smile. “I took a shortcut to beat your enthusiastic friends here.”

“What? It’s already Monday noon?” Xiwen’s mouth fell open in shock.

At his exclamation, the white-robed witch—the matron of the infirmary, Madam Humma Dalair—snapped irritably from the side, “You think overtaxing your magic and being poisoned by a Nanduleopard is so easy to recover from?”

She picked up a potion bottle from the nightstand and shoved it into Xiwen’s hand: “Drink this before you have lunch.”

Dumbledore smiled and said, “There’s never been any harm in following Madam Dalair’s advice!”

He then moved to Professor Kettleburn’s bedside, inquiring with genuine concern after the Care of Magical Creatures professor’s health, while Kettleburn replied in his usual hearty fashion.

Madam Dalair helped Xiwen sit up a bit, placing a soft pillow behind him for support.

Xiwen looked at the dark brown potion in his hand, recalling vaguely his days at Kamar-Taj, when he had to swallow all manner of remedies to treat his ailments.

He uncorked the bottle and, by force of habit, downed it in one gulp.

“Cough, cough…” Xiwen coughed violently. He hadn’t expected the potion to taste so foul—worse than any of the bitter herbal medicines he had ever endured.

Madam Dalair patted his back to help him catch his breath, then looked at him in surprise. “I thought for certain you’d spit it out—I was already prepared to use a Muzzle Charm on you.”

Xiwen looked speechlessly at the unyielding Madam Dalair, pursed his lips, and popped two sizzling honey drops into his mouth to mask the taste.

“Don’t eat too many sweets,” Madam Dalair admonished, before turning away to tend to Professor Kettleburn.

He had to admit, Madam Dalair’s potion was indeed effective. Whether it was the medicine or mere suggestion, his headache and weakness improved almost immediately.

Just as Xiwen was thinking of lying down for another nap, a band of Slytherin first-years hurried in from Transfiguration class.

“Xiwen, what happened to you?”

“Xiwen, something’s wrong—why didn’t you come to class?”

“Xiwen…”

Xiwen was overwhelmed by the barrage of anxious questions from his classmates and had no idea how to answer.

“Silence!” Madam Dalair spun around and bellowed.

She strode over with a stern expression, glaring at the noisy young wizards. “Patients need rest. You will all leave the infirmary at once!”

“Madam Dalair, we’re his friends, we just came to see him,” Elthiona shot a fierce look at the noisy crowd behind her, then faced the matron with a trace of defiance.

“No!” Madam Dalair’s expression did not soften in the slightest. “This is an infirmary, not a marketplace.”

At that, Xiwen, lying in bed, said, “Madam Dalair, perhaps you could allow only my roommates and El to stay for a little while? There are things I’d like to discuss with them.”

She gave him a piercing look, but ultimately relented. She turned to Elthiona and the others. “You have five minutes.”

Then she briskly departed.

Elthiona and the others waited until she had gone before letting out a sigh of relief, gathering around Xiwen’s bed.

“Mate, it’s only been a few days since term started and you’ve already missed three classes—you’re a legend!” Abraxas exclaimed, giving Xiwen’s shoulder an enthusiastic smack that nearly knocked him back onto his pillow.

“What are you doing? Xiwen is ill!” Elthiona shot him a fierce glare, then turned to Xiwen. “Xiwen, what happened last night? I heard some Gryffindors and Ravenclaws say they saw a red spark shoot up from deep in the Forbidden Forest.”

Xiwen forced a nonchalant smile and lied, “It was nothing serious. It’s all been sorted out.”

“But I saw… Professor Kettleburn’s leg…” the usually taciturn Gomez murmured softly.

Elthiona, Abraxas, and Mobley turned to look at the adjacent bed, their faces filling with horror and disbelief.

Xiwen grew silent as well, his expression darkening.

“Xiwen, what kind of danger did you face?” Elthiona asked, her voice trembling on the verge of tears.

Xiwen remained silent, and even the air seemed to grow still.

…

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