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Magical Marvel: The Rise of Arthur Hayes : Ch. 131
🕑 Added 2025-08-01 20:13:36 +0000 UTCChapter 131: The Wounded Guest
Arthur opened the door to find Ariadne Anderson leaning heavily against the frame, her tactical gear torn and bloodstained.
"help—" she started, then swayed dangerously.
Arthur caught her arm, immediately noticing the wet warmth soaking through her sleeve. Blood. A lot of it.
"Winky!" he called, already lifting the unconscious woman.
The elf appeared with a crack, took one look, and her ears drooped in exasperation. "Is that the naughty muggle who refused potions last time? Now bleeding everywhere? Winky just cleaned the entrance!"
“Medical room,” Arthur ordered, moving quickly through the manor. “We heal first. Questions later.”
“Winky will prepare the potions,” she muttered, vanishing with a loud crack.
In the medical room, Arthur laid Ariadne on the examination table, his hands already glowing with diagnostic magic.
“Three bullet wounds,” he noted, calm and clinical. “Multiple lacerations—blade work. Significant blood loss.” His magic scanned deeper. “Poison on the blades. Standard Hand tactics. Looks like a full assault.”
"Hand?" Winky reappeared with an array of vials. "The bad people Master fought last year? Winky will prepare antidotes."
Arthur's hands wove complex patterns, green healing light sinking into Ariadne's wounds. The magic didn't force healing—it guided her body's natural processes, accelerating them a thousandfold. Tissue began knitting at visible speed.
The bullets floated free, encased in protective fields to prevent additional damage. He followed with a broad-spectrum antidote, watching as the poison's effects reversed.
"Blood Replenisher," he said, and Winky had it ready instantly. "That should suffice for now."
Twenty minutes of intense work condensed what would have been hours of surgery and weeks of recovery into manageable healing. The wounds sealed cleanly, leaving only faint lines.
"There." Arthur stepped back, satisfied as her breathing steadied. "She'll live."
"Foolish muggle warrior," Winky scolded the unconscious form. "Always fighting, never having backup plans."
"She's dedicated," Arthur said neutrally.
“She’s reckless. Winky will clean her up and find proper clothes. Master should wash the blood off his hands.”
"Good idea. Put her in the blue guest room. We'll get answers in the morning."
—
Ariadne woke to gentle sunlight and the surreal absence of pain.
She sat up carefully, checking injuries that should have left her bedridden. Nothing remained but faint scars that looked weeks old, not hours.
“Good morning,” said a familiar voice.
Arthur sat in a nearby chair, reading, as composed as ever. “There’s water on the side table. You lost a lot of blood.”
She blinked. “The injuries—”
"Healed. Magic's useful that way." He turned a page. "Though perhaps avoid bleeding on my doorstep in future. Winky was quite put out about the mess."
She reached for the water, then froze.
She was in clean pajamas. Her ruined tactical gear was gone.
“Who changed my clothes?” she asked, heat flooding her cheeks.
Arthur looked up with perfect innocence. "I did, naturally. As a trained healer, patient modesty is secondary to medical necessity."
Her face went scarlet. "You—you—"
"Standard procedure," he continued calmly. "Nothing I haven't encountered in my extensive medical training."
"That's not—you can't just—"
"Master should not lie to guests!" Winky appeared with a sharp crack, hands on hips. "Winky cleaned Miss Muggle after Master fixed the holes. Winky found proper clothes. Master did not see anything improper!"
Arthur gave the elf a look of theatrical betrayal. "Winky, you've ruined my fun."
Ariadne's embarrassment transformed into fury. She grabbed the water glass, arm cocking back—
"I wouldn't," Arthur said mildly. "That's expensive crystal."
She threw it anyway. He deflected it with a lazy gesture, the glass landing safely on a side table.
“Excellent reflexes for someone who almost died last night,” he said. “Now, why don’t we talk about why you came to bleed all over my front door? I don’t run a hospital ward.”
The fire in her expression dimmed. “Walked into a trap. My intel said it was a low-risk hideout. It wasn’t. Complete fabrication. The Hand was ready—fifty operatives, military-grade weapons, and a few blade experts with poisoned knives.”
"And you engaged them anyway."
"Had them handled until reinforcements arrived," she said defensively. “More than a hundred. The Hand is bigger than I thought.”
“Now you understand why Aurora and I warned you to walk away. It’s suicide.”
"This setback happened because I trusted bad intel. Next time I'll verify better." Her chin lifted. "I escaped, didn't I?"
"Barely." Arthur's humor vanished. "Why come here? London has excellent hospitals."
"Hospitals ask questions. Gunshot wounds mean police reports, investigations." She looked away. “After last time… the potions your elf gave me… I thought maybe you could help again.”
"Flattering. Also problematic." Arthur rose, beginning to pace. "I have no interest in your war against the Hand. Your bleeding on my doorstep creates connections I'd prefer to avoid."
"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "Wasn't thinking clearly."
“Blood loss will do that.” He stopped. “Next time—and we both know there’ll be a next time—be more careful. I’m enjoying a quiet life. I’d like to keep it that way.”
"It won't happen again."
"Of course it will. We both know you'll continue your suicidal crusade." He moved toward the door. "But next time, try to bleed elsewhere."
"I understand. I'll leave immediately—"
“Don’t be stupid. You’re still healing.” He paused in the doorway. “Stay the night. Winky will give you anti-scarring cream. Apply it daily, unless you want those marks as battle trophies.”
“Thank you,” she said softly.
Arthur didn’t respond. He left, keeping a careful emotional distance.He appreciated her mission in principle, but had no desire to be dragged into an endless war with the Hand. His new fun and quiet life suited him perfectly.
—
Arthur didn't see Ariadne for the rest of her stay. Winky reported she was recovering well, taking potions as directed, and "asking too many questions about magic for someone who cannot use it."
The next morning brought only a brief farewell at the door. Arthur noted a silent exchange between her and Winky but chose not to comment.
“Thank you again,” Ariadne said. “I’ll be more careful.”
“See that you are,” Arthur replied coolly.
As she disappeared into the distance, Arthur turned to Winky. “Remember the Statute of Secrecy.”
“Winky remembers,” she said sweetly. “Winky only talked about the Muggle world with Miss Ari.”
Arthur caught the subtle use of “Miss Ari.” They’d bonded, it seemed. He didn’t mind. If anything, he was curious how this new friendship would shape Winky’s growth.
—
Days passed, and August 31st found Arthur at Grimmauld Place, enjoying what would likely be the last casual gathering for months.
“Can’t believe summer’s over,” Harry groaned from the ancient sofa. “Back to Hogwarts tomorrow.”
“At least you’ll have competent Defense teaching,” Arthur teased, glancing at Sirius. “Professor Black has a nice ring to it.”
“Shut it,” Sirius muttered. “I still can’t believe Minnie talked me into it. ‘Hogwarts needs you, Sirius. The students deserve proper instruction.’ Ugh.”
“You could’ve said no,” Harry pointed out.
“Have you ever said no to Minnie? She gives you that look. Those cat eyes…” Sirius shuddered. “Besides, Hogwarts does need me. Someone has to bring fun back to those dreary corridors.”
“That would be great,” Harry said. “Hogwarts could use Lord Padfoot.”
“Lord Padfoot,” Sirius echoed with a smirk. “Has a nice ring to it. I’m going to be the best DADA professor Hogwarts has ever seen.”
“Low bar,” Arthur noted. “Let’s see—possessed by Voldemort, fraud, Remus—good took too many sick leaves, Death Eater, sadistic toad, Snape.”
"When you put it like that..." Harry winced. "Maybe we should just cancel Defense classes."
"Too late now," Sirius said glumly. "I've already prepared lesson plans. Actual lesson plans. What have I become?"
"Responsible?" Arthur suggested.
"Nerdy?" Harry added.
"Take those back immediately," Sirius demanded, throwing cushions at both of them.
The afternoon passed in comfortable chaos—planning pranks Sirius definitely wouldn't use on students, sharing embarrassing stories, carefully avoiding the war's shadow.
"Hey," Arthur said to Harry as evening approached. "Looking forward to Hogwarts without your famous scar?"
Harry instinctively touched his forehead. The ritual had erased the mark. “Feels weird. Had it for seventeen years. Now it’s just… gone.”
"Want me to draw a replacement?" Sirius teased. "Your fan club will miss gawking at that lightning bolt."
"I don't have a fan club!"
"Sure you don’t," Arthur and Sirius chorused, then had to dodge Harry's retaliation.
As Arthur prepared to leave, the mood grew more serious.
"Be careful, both of you," he said. "Hogwarts might be safe, but—"
"We know," Harry interrupted. "I'll miss our meetings."
“We’ve got the mirrors,” Arthur reminded him. “And I can visit if I get bored.”
“How?” Harry began, then held up a hand. “Never mind. Foolish question.”
Arthur left them to their final summer evening, returning to his quiet manor. Life might become boring again—or perhaps more interesting. Harry's seventh year promised anything but peace.
Comments
FujieTheDwarf
love the way winky developed. tftc
Nazarickk
Thanks for the chapter
