“Now that you've pried my soul open, what are your plans after school?”
A brow rose at the change of subject. He leaned back in his chair, crossing an ankle over his knee.
"There's a wide choice to be made in the coming year, I'll admit. My father's offered me quite the platter of opportunities."
He gave her a wry smile, holding up a hand as if to count off each one.
"There's politics, of course — a position he has carefully groomed me for. High profile, prestigious, boring — perfect for someone who wants to look like they're doing something. I’m not particularly inclined toward it — endless paperwork and ass-kissing."
“Exciting,” she noted with the barest smirk. “That’s the first.”
"Don't you just envy how thrilling it sounds?"
The smirk widened, a glint of humor playing across his face.
"Then there are the other traditional avenues. Business, finance, that sort of thing. I suppose I'd look more the part in one of those. But the problem with those careers," he added dryly, "is that they require actual interest."
A third finger was lifted.
"Last but certainly most tedious would be the social circuit. Galas and fundraisers and the like."
“And alternatives that wouldn’t dry up the soul? Hypothetically.”
"That's a tempting subject. Hypothetically, there’s a great deal that could be implemented — but isn’t.”
“Implement. In which field?”
“Wizarding medicine,” he said at last, “is surprisingly primitive for a society that can regrow bones overnight.”
A faint, crooked smile touched his mouth.
“Everything we do is reactive. Someone collapses, someone’s cursed, someone drinks the wrong potion — then the Healers rush in to fix it. Admirable, but inefficient.”
He lifted his eyes to her again.
“There’s an extraordinary amount of magical damage that develops long before anyone notices it. Curse residue embedded in the body. Instability from repeated spell exposure. Toxic potion buildup. Even magical exhaustion.”
He made a small, dismissive motion with his hand.
“No one measures any of it. We simply wait until the patient is half-dead and then congratulate ourselves for saving them.”
He paused, considering the thought.
“Imagine a diagnostic matrix instead. A system of charms capable of mapping magical integrity across the body — detecting contamination before it manifests as illness.”
Her eyes flickered with quiet interest now.
“You cast a diagnostic charm and it tells you precisely what is happening beneath the surface. Residual Dark magic present. Magical channels destabilizing. Twenty-three percent probability of neurological curse manifestation within six months.”
His gaze returned to her, studying her reaction.
“Preventive medicine, rather than heroic damage control.”
She leaned back slightly, a faint smile shadowing her lips.
“And if you can detect curses early enough, the next logical question becomes whether you can train the body to resist them.”
The corner of his mouth curved faintly.
“Most spells affect the magical core and nervous system in predictable ways. Which means you could design countermeasures. Potions that dampen curse impact. Runic matrices embedded in the skin that disperse hex energy. Magical shielding integrated directly into the body.”
“Not immunity, of course. But resistance.”
His fingers tapped lightly against the table.
“Then there’s the aftermath no one bothers discussing. Dark magic leaves contamination behind — fragments of hostile enchantment embedded in people and objects.”
His voice lowered slightly.
“We cleanse cursed artefacts all the time. Yet when a person carries the same residue, we simply call them ‘recovered’ and send them home.”
A faint scoff escaped him.
“Magical toxicology, basically,” she said, nodding once.
“Exactly. That sort of problem,” he concluded, “is far more interesting than politics.”
A Gain by V_O on Ao3 — chapter 18
