The darkness before Hermione's terrified eyes was countless times thicker than the deepest, most starless night sky imaginable. This endless abyss ignited the most instinctual fear in the depths of her usually rational heart, the instinctive human terror of complete loss of senses.
Hermione desperately wanted to blink her eyes, to somehow physically dispel this suffocating curtain of darkness that had fallen on her. She couldn't determine with any certainty whether the frantic signals from her increasingly blurry consciousness were successfully making her physical body respond accordingly. In any case, the seemingly eternal darkness enveloping her eyes didn't ripple or diminish in the slightest.
Until, with shocking suddenness, agonizing pain appeared.
The waves of pain shattered the unnatural darkness before her eyes, but she still couldn't see with any clarity. Only disorienting, multicolored flashes of blurry light and indistinct shadows were hazily reflected in her pupils, as if she were viewing the world through a rain-spilled window during a violent thunderstorm.
This scorching, unbearable pain originated exactly from the base of her right hand. In her increasingly confused mental state, she suddenly realized that this was exactly where that odd green light from the enchanted rose had mysteriously entered her body earlier in the Three Broomsticks.
At that moment, she had dismissively thought it was just an optical illusion or a harmless effect of the enchantment. Now, as agony flowed through her veins like melted fire, it became terribly apparent that her initial observation had not been mistaken but became a warning she had fatally ignored.
This heat consuming her flesh was so unimaginably intense, as if her entire right hand had been forcibly submerged in molten volcanic lava, and her forearm was literally on the verge of melting away like wax held too close to flame.
Moreover, this horrific burning sensation was rapidly spreading throughout her body with terrifying efficiency. In the blink of an eye, barely a heartbeat's time, it had already soared to her upper arm, leaving a trail of nerve-burning agony in its trail, about to devour her collarbone and infiltrate her vital organs.
'Dark magic or poison? Or perhaps some combination of both?'
With only the most fragile shred of analytical reason still functioning in her increasingly chaotic mind, Hermione, unable to make even the slightest sound through her paralyzed vocal cords, made this judgment.
At this critical juncture hovering between life and death, it was utterly meaningless to waste precious seconds pondering why she specifically had been targeted for. It was equally pointless to dwell on trying to identify exactly what kind of magical assault she had suffered, or who might have orchestrated it.
Now, the only action that desperately needed to be taken was to somehow resist the rapid erosion of this curse as much as possible and strive to buy time.
Because, if fate showed her any mercy, Professor Watson and Professor Moody were not far away inside the Three Broomsticks Pub. Only they could potentially save her from the inevitable death that was consuming her cell by cell!
Yes, Hermione was very certain that the attack she had suffered would lead to her death in less than a few minutes. This horrifying moment was the closest she had ever been to death in her life—a hundred times more dangerous than when she had faced the dragon in the first task of the Triwizard Tournament, which now seemed like a trivial challenge by comparison.
But what desperate action should she take in these final moments?
All the vast knowledge she had diligently learned since receiving her magical education at Hogwarts flashed through Hermione's mind like the pages of countless books being frantically rummaged through by invisible hands.
Yet, she despairingly discovered that none of the spells, potions, or theories she had so proudly remembered could now save her life, which was currently as feeble and flickering as a dying candle flame in a gathering storm.
"Saving the Nearly Dead You: A Comprehensive Guide to Self-healing from Mortal Injuries for the Mortally Reckless"
Her desperately reviewing memory finally came to the most recent book she had studied. With a surge of desperate hope, Hermione recalled that in this book she had been reading late into the night just days ago, there happened to be documented a similar case like her current predicament!
What desperate measures had one of Sirius Black's adventurous ancestors taken when he encountered the lethal venom of a rare magical snake combined with the ancient curse of an indigenous tribal wizard while boldly exploring the remote magical communities of colonial India?
The insidious poison of magical creatures and malicious curses often utilize the natural magic flowing through a wizard's body as their primary medium of transmission, basically similar to how toxins lethal to non-magical Muggles use the bloodstream as their highway of destruction.
Therefore, theoretically, controlling the flow of one's own magic, or even deliberately exhausting one's magical reserves completely, could possibly buy extra time to search for remedies and cures.
That quick-witted ancestor of the Black family had relied on this desperate method to gain just enough time to gather rare medicinal herbs that temporarily alleviated the snake's venom.
Then, with his magical knowledge of plants and phenomenal memory for obscure countercurses, he had eliminated the complex curse he had been afflicted with!
This ancestor of the House of Black had documented a method or ways in the book to control the internal flow of magic—complete mental focus!
Similar to the meditation practices promoted by certain religions, when all external distractions and internal thoughts are strictly excluded from the conscious mind, a witch or wizard could potentially gain unprecedented control over their own body and magical essence!
Although she had read this travelogue with her usual thoroughness, Hermione had never actually attempted to put the methods mentioned into practice before.
In her typical skeptical opinion, this method seemed far too idealistic and mysterious, lacking the solid theoretical basis and experimental validation she preferred. She had not encountered similar methodologies described in other academic magical texts or heard them recommended by any of her Hogwarts professors.
But now, on the edge between life and death, with darkness encroaching from all sides, this method became the only possible way Hermione could think of that might slow down her demise.
Fortunately, achieving intense mental focus was not a particularly challenging task for someone like Hermione who had exceptional intellectual discipline and concentration skills due to countless hours of study and spell practice.
When her small but fiercely tenacious rational mind finally managed to temporarily shield the last remaining traces of overwhelming despair and fear, Hermione's blank eyes suddenly brightened.
A breathtakingly beautiful, flowing galaxy abruptly emerged in front of her stunned inner vision.
Just as if she were somehow suspended in the infinite depths of outer space, countless brilliantly shining stars gathered together to form ethereal, smoke-like, water-like rivers of pure magical energy.
Countless meandering, intertwining streams of silvery light flowed rapidly through invisible channels, forming an intricate, pulsating pattern that perfectly resembled a human torso—her torso.
Hermione, who inexplicably seemed to possess an omniscient perspective floating outside her own physical form, was momentarily struck speechless with wonder. Then she immediately realized that this magnificent cosmic display was exactly how raw magical energy naturally flowed through her physical body!
The specific area corresponding to her right arm appeared to be shrouded by an expanding dark cloud of corruption. The silvery streams of her natural magic disappeared instantly as soon as they entered this toxic miasma, and the dark cloud expanded further with each passing second.
She absolutely couldn't allow this dark cloud to completely devour her body!
This desperate realization jumped into Hermione's remaining consciousness. Under the influence of her focus, her internal magic responded directly to her determined will. The silver streams inside her ethereal torso suddenly surged towards her right arm from all other parts of her body as if being intentionally channeled or driven away, madly impacting that dark cloud with the collective force of her entire magical pool. Then—
BOOM!
The tyrannical, uncontrollable magical storm erupted violently from within her core, breaking through all-natural constraints. In Hermione's slightly clearer visual field, she caught only the briefest glimpse of Harry and Ron being violently blown away from her sides. Then, her body completely lost all external support and fell backwards crashing onto the wet stone slabs.
The powerful impact had blasted Harry over a dozen feet away from Hermione's convulsing body. The moment his body violently connected with the hard ground, the pain radiating through his possibly fractured ribs and the nauseating churning in his stomach nearly made Harry faint.
'Something happened to Hermione!'
This was the only clear thought his stunned mind could think of.
If he hadn't greatly improved his physical resilience and reflexes during Professor Watson's PE classes over the past months, just this impact would have been enough to seriously injure him considering how thin he used to be.
Harry, who was desperately attempting to support his bruised body with his trembling elbows, instinctively thought.
His gaze still remained focused on Hermione, who was lying on the ground, twitching all over with black smoke rising from her body. But his green eyes still showed blankness and helplessness, as if he still couldn't understand or accept the fact they had encountered.
BOOM!
A second violent explosion resounded in Harry's ears. The windows and sliding doors of the Three Broomsticks tavern instantly blew open. Amidst the terrified screams of young wizards seeking shelter, Professor Watson flew out of the destroyed entrance!
Indeed, he literally flew through the air, not rushed out on foot!
What Harry managed to glimpse with the corner vision of his pain-blurred eyes was that Professor Watson was not a shapeless form they had witnessed before. Instead, he possessed the normal physical form of a human wizard but moved with a supernatural speed that existed far beyond what any normal human being could possibly achieve as he flew from within the shattered remnants of the pub's entrance.
His speed was so fast that Harry's pupils, which had contracted to their limit, only had time to tremble. Professor Watson had already appeared beside Hermione!
At that moment, Harry fully understood why people throughout the Wizarding world called Professor Watson the most powerful wizard of the modern era.
When Professor Watson looked down at Hermione, his expression was so frightening, far beyond Harry's imagination—there was no gentle smile that typically put students at ease, and the joyful sparks in his pale purple eyes were also gone. Every inch of that young face carried bone-chilling anger!
Surrounding Professor Watson's silhouette, there was surprisingly not a single visible manifestation of the sun-like, blindingly dazzling magical flames that had spectacularly appeared on the unforgettable night of the Quidditch World Cup finals when he had confronted that mysterious dark witch Cliodna.
But Harry could still instinctively feel that Professor Watson's not particularly tall body was radiating a power so intense that it was nearly impossible to look directly at without flinching away!
Bryan's sharp gaze penetrated the situation inside Hermione's slightly trembling and twitching body. He didn't draw his wand. Instead, his eyes suddenly shot out an even sharper light, as if it were tangible.
Accompanied by an invisible, supremely powerful sealing force surging from his body, it swept over Hermione's body. The remaining traces of magic in Hermione's body, along with the force that was devouring her life, were sealed together!
Hermione's body stopped shaking and became completely paralyzed. Only the faint light in her tear-filled brown pupils proved that she had not died yet.
Professor Moody ran over with a speed that did not match his mutilated body at all. When he discovered that it was Hermione lying on the ground, his expression greatly changed on that seemingly stitched-together face.
Completely ignoring the momentary sweep of Watson's majestic, questioning gaze in his direction, Moody immediately dropped to a squatting position beside Hermione. His palm swept past his waist, and a glass bottle filled with a shiny green light appeared in his palm.
"The combination of poison and curse she's been afflicted with has already devoured a significant portion of her magical reserves and life force," Moody growled. "An immediate supplement must be administered, otherwise she won't possess sufficient strength to withstand the intensive magical treatment that will be required to save her life—"
As if giving a professional explanation to Bryan, or simply narrating his emergency medical procedures aloud to focus his own thoughts, Moody removed the cork and force-feeded the green potion into Hermione's mouth.
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