Mended

Twenty-Seven

"Concentrate." Severus reminds Lorna as he flips through the pages of his notes resting upon his knee as the toddler banishes her training wand as if it were a sword, swinging sloppily through the air and jabbing at random objects as if she were sparring with them. "I have witnessed you use that training wand as if it were real, simply because you were concentrating and meant it. Now, hold it correctly- no, correctly, Lorna. As I have shown you. Now, say the words as you flick your wrist."

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Lorna shouts at the peacock feather on the floor before her.

The feather trembles a moment, whether by her will or a draft, then stills entirely. Lorna quickly becomes frustrated, throws the practice wand to the ground, and slams her arms down against her sides in defeat just as the feather erupts in a ball of flame. Severus produces his own wand and extinguishes the fire without uttering a word.

"You are a witch, that much is certain." Severus chuckles as Lorna narrows her eyes at him in such a way that reminds him so much of Sirius Black- or worse, of Bellatrix Lestrange, that a shiver runs down his spine. "You need to master the movements. You are still young; you have seven years before you can obtain a true wand. Seven years to practice before you are off to Hogwarts, where you will no doubt be the top of our class due to practicing now."

Lorna stalks towards him, her face still so full of anger that for a moment he contemplates what he will do if she narrows her signature flames towards him. Lorna reaches her hands up for him to hoist her onto his lap. Severus obliges, pushing his papers out of the way so that they are at least spared by her messy hands. The apothecary had been deserted since Rita Skeeter's article, something that ordinarily would have eaten at him, if not for his new friend Mentem Defensor, a breakthrough new potion invented by one Gaultier Bardot; a French potions master whom had immigrated shortly after the second wizarding war in an effort to ease the suffering of many of the men and women still effected by The Dark Lord's rein.

Severus had met Mister Bardot while leaving the Ministry of Magic several weeks earlier during his visit to the Ministry of Magic's Regulation of Potions and Magical Herbs department to register his own creation for a testing period. As he slammed the office door behind him, Severus could not help but overhear a man discussing a groundbreaking potion with a research assistant.

"I have done extensive research with young witches and wizards suffering from what Muggles call 'Battle Fatigue' after the events of the war." The man says enthusiastically as he waves a ledger through the air. Severus stops a moment and listens, intrigued by what the stranger with a thick French accent was explaining. "One woman, you will find her on page thirty-seven of my portfolio, suffered such intense Agoraphobia- which is what Muggle practitioners refer to when an individual is unable to withstand large crowds, or in this unfortunate souls situation, leave the home entirely; this poor woman had not left her home in over twenty years. Her husband and two sons were both killed by Death Eaters during You-Know-Who's first emergence, and she had locked herself inside; only allowing her daughter to come in once a month. You see, her quality of life had diminished so much so that she had been contemplating taking her own life for several years. I heard word of her condition while traveling the countryside in search of anyone who would be willing to participate in a trial, her daughter practically begged me to assist the family in healing her. This woman, in a matter of weeks, was not only able to leave her home, but go on an all-day shopping trip in London with her daughter and grandchildren. Something that would never have been possible for her before!"

"How does this potion differ from a simple Calming Drought?" Severus asks, fully invested in the conversation he had not been invited in to. The man whips his head around, a broad smile etched upon his face.

"You see, Calming Droughts often render the drinker completely useless, as I am sure you well know. If taken or brewed incorrectly, can leave its drinker in a worse state than they were in beforehand. It cannot be taken long term, does not ease the anxious tendencies whatsoever, and was created back when man still believed the woman to be fickle, glass figurines prone to hysterics and weeping. It was not meant to soothe women; no, it was meant to quiet them and force them to bed for extended periods of time so that man can be, well, you know what creatures we can become." The man removes a glass vial with a shimmering yellow substance from the pocket of his traveling cloak and passes it to Severus to examine. "With this potion, I have seen both men and women completely restored. I have seen even the most terror-ridden individuals smile and laugh, I have seen children face their greatest fears with ease, I have witnessed true miracles. And isn't that what magic is all about?"