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Harry Potter In The Witcher [28]
🕑 Added 2025-06-05 13:21:06 +0000 UTC"What… what are you doing?" Adalia asked eagerly, her voice a hushed whisper, clearly trying to keep quiet so her daughter wouldn't overhear their conversation. "Have you… have you found what's wrong with her?"
Harry didn't answer immediately. He looked over the glowing magical words on the desk, his brow furrowing in concentration, then in dawning, grim recognition.
He knew what he was looking at. He had only ever seen a case like this once before, many, many years ago, and it had not been nearly this bad, this advanced.
"Yes," Harry said finally, turning to face the anxious Queen. "Yes, I have found what ails her. Your daughter, Calanthe, has a rare, magical variant of what my people call an Autoimmune disease."
Adalia frowned, her brow crinkling in confusion. "An Auto… immune disease? What does that mean, Apollo?" she asked, her voice laced with fear.
"It basically means," Harry explained, keeping his voice low and calm, "that her own body is confused. It's attacking itself.
She was born with some magic in her blood, Queen Adalia. Not a huge amount, not like a fully trained sorceress, but what little magic was there, it was quite potent, quite strong.
Since there was so little of it, however, her normal, non-magical body has somehow mistaken that innate magic for a foreign entity, like a virus or a bacteria, trying to invade it.
So, her body's natural defenses are now basically attacking her own magical core, trying to kill it off, not realizing that, in doing so, it's also slowly, inexorably, killing her in the process. It's a very, very rare disease, even in its non-magical form.
The magical variant, like this one, is even more so. I'm honestly quite surprised she has lasted this long, Your Majesty. Cases this severe, this advanced, are usually… usually quite fatal, and much more quickly."
Queen Adalia had tears forming in her eyes, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a sob. "Is there… is there nothing that can be done then?" she asked, her voice choked with grief, still trying desperately to maintain her quiet volume so Calanthe wouldn't hear.
"I believe I can probably trick her body back to normal," Harry said, his voice taking on a more professional, confident tone. "Re-educate it, so to speak, into thinking that the magic inside of it is normal, that it belongs there. But I will need to grab a specific potion first, from my own supplies. It's a potion that will temporarily settle her body down, stop almost all non-vital bodily activity. Essentially, it will put her into a deep, magically induced coma, a state where she will be much more susceptible to my specialized healing methods. After I’ve completed the procedure, I can then give her the antidote to bring her safely out of it. However," Harry added, looking directly at Adalia, his green eyes serious, "as one of her legal guardians, as her mother, I will need your explicit permission to continue with this procedure." He had slipped fully into his "healer mode" now, focused and direct.
Adalia took a moment to wipe her tears, to compose herself, to get her emotions under some semblance of control. "Will… will it hurt her?" she asked, her voice still trembling.
"The procedure itself won't hurt her at all, not while she's in the coma," Harry reassured her. "But she will likely feel quite sore, all over her body, for a few days afterwards, given how far the disease has already spread and how much internal damage her body has inflicted upon itself. She will also need a very strict, carefully managed diet and a certain amount of gentle, guided exercise each day for several weeks, perhaps even months, to help her regain her strength and get her back to full health. I can give you detailed notes on all of that after I finish the main procedure, if you would like."
Adalia nodded, a flicker of hope returning to her tear-filled eyes. Then, before Harry could react, she reached out and hugged him tightly, her arms wrapping around him in a desperate, grateful embrace.
"Thank you," she whispered into his shoulder, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."
Harry just awkwardly patted her back a few times, a little unsure how to react to such an open display of emotion, until she finally let go.
"Right," Harry said, clearing his throat. "Well, I… I need to pop back to my lab, my… workshop, to get the potion I need. I will be right back. Don't worry." And with that, he apparated away with a soft pop.
He appeared in his current, rather messy little makeshift lab, a secure, warded cave a few miles outside of Cintra.
He quickly ruffled through his magically expanded trunk, searching for a vial of the Draught of Living Death, or at least, this world's closest alchemical equivalent of it, which he had painstakingly recreated some years ago.
Grabbing the small, dark blue bottle, he then popped back to the palace, reappearing in Calanthe’s room just as silently as he had left. He saw Queen Adalia looking at him, her eyes wide with unconcealed surprise.
"I… I don't think I have ever seen even the most powerful Sorcerer disappear and reappear quite like that before," she said, a note of awe in her voice.
"Well," Harry said with a small, self-deprecating smile, "I've always been a little… special, I suppose." He moved back over to Calanthe’s bedside.
"Hello again, Calanthe," Harry said gently, crouching down so he was at her eye level. "I have found out what's wrong with you. And I am going to put you to sleep for a little while, with this special potion I have here, so I can start the procedure to heal you properly. Don't be afraid, okay? I will give you the antidote to wake you up as soon as I am completely done."
The little girl, despite her obvious weakness, did her very best to scowl at him, a spark of defiance glinting in her blue eyes.
"I'm not afraid," she said, her voice surprisingly firm for one so young and so ill. "I fear nothing. Not even death." She said it with a fierce, brave conviction that only a child, or perhaps a future warrior queen, could truly pull off.
Harry couldn't help the small, fond laugh that escaped his mouth. "I bet you aren't, little lioness," he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "I just bet you aren't."
