Yennefer wasn't the easiest person to deal with.
Witchers knew that well.
And Madam Pomfrey realized it, too, after just a short interaction. If not for Harry and Dumbledore, she wouldn't have been keen on examining someone like Yennefer.
But soon, her eyebrows furrowed for a different reason.
"This lady's physical condition isn't great," she said, waving her wand again.
Geralt asked in a low voice, "What's wrong with her?"
Madam Pomfrey replied, "Her body is young—around her twenties, just as she appears—but her internal organs are aged, even fragile. I'd estimate them to be more like forty or fifty years old."
Geralt froze.
Yennefer smirked. "In Harry's words, I'm already an old woman. In five years, I'll hit triple digits."
Triple digits...
Madam Pomfrey was stunned. It took her a moment to understand what Yennefer meant.
"You look very young," she said respectfully, recognizing Yennefer as an elder. "But some of your habits should change. Don't end up like Headmaster Dumbledore. Take care of yourself."
"Besides that…"
"Your shoulders and spine have issues. Someone's tried to correct them, but poorly—it was only cosmetic. Most of it now relies on magic to maintain. It's a type of magic I've never seen before… quite interesting."
"Sorry, what I mean is—it's very taxing. It would be better to use magic for a full correction."
Yennefer said nothing, only pressed her lips tightly.
"These are minor concerns," Madam Pomfrey sighed. "The worst is your ovaries and uterus. They're atrophied—like crumpled, dried leaves."
"And not from natural causes."
"They were destroyed by magic. It's a very specific kind, the same kind used to maintain your spine and body."
Yennefer said softly, "The cost of learning magic."
"Dark magic research?" Madam Pomfrey asked calmly, clearly experienced. "It doesn't feel like a curse, nor a consequence of oath-breaking. There's still a chance to fix it, though I've never seen a case like this. I'll need time to study it."
If it were just magical damage to internal organs, she was used to that—after all, at Hogwarts, anything could happen to young witches and wizards just beginning to learn magic.
But for a seasoned witch, and a spell she'd never encountered…
"What kind of magic did you study that caused this?" Madam Pomfrey tried a healing spell—but it had no effect. The organs, ravaged by magic for nearly a lifetime, couldn't be healed with a simple incantation.
Dumbledore spoke. "It's from another magical system."
"Miss Yennefer, would you be willing to tell Poppy more about it?"
Yennefer, still lying down, asked, "Harry, can they be trusted?"
"Madam Pomfrey, absolutely," Harry nodded. "And Albus too. He's extremely knowledgeable. With him involved, we may find answers faster."
Yennefer nodded. "Then there's no problem."
"Is the exam over? I don't often find myself lying down in front of so many people."
Madam Pomfrey nodded with utmost gentleness. "Of course."
Yennefer got up briskly and walked over to Geralt. "Now can we talk about Harry's issue? The soul in his forehead—what's that about? I examined him before but didn't find anything."
"A Horcrux is essentially just a fragment of soul," Dumbledore explained. "And the one in Harry's forehead is so faint that even the soul's consciousness—belonging to Voldemort—can't manifest."
"I didn't notice it either, until Harry brought it to my attention."
Yennefer pressed, "Can it be removed?"
"If I had discovered it early on," Dumbledore said with some regret, "but now, after so much time, they've grown together. At this point, removing it would risk damaging Harry's own soul."
"Harry told me you're the greatest white wizard." Yennefer's tone carried sarcasm.
Dumbledore remained silent.
Yennefer waved her hand. "Harry mentioned all soul-related magic is in the Restricted Section. I want to look through it and find a solution."
"I assume you won't say no. Only a madman would think carrying someone else's soul in their head is safe."
Dumbledore was silent for a while, then adjusted his glasses. "Of course, you're welcome."
"However… Miss Yennefer, we are from different worlds. While we both wield magic, our systems clearly differ. In our world, dark magic can corrupt the soul. So every book you access must be reviewed by me."
"And I'll have a house-elf keep an eye on you."
Yennefer glanced at Geralt. "As long as it's not watching while Geralt and I are doing anything fun, it's fine."
"Don't worry. I have no habit of invading others' privacy," Dumbledore promised immediately.
Harry and Snape both snorted.
"I mean it," Dumbledore insisted.
"Then let's go now," Yennefer said decisively. "Where's the library?"
Harry shook his head. "No rush, Yennefer. Two more things first."
"We're visiting Hagrid."
"And checking out the traces Ciri left behind."
The former—visiting Hagrid—didn't interest Yennefer much. There was hope now for healing her uterus and ovaries, but it would take time. Compared to that, the thing in Harry's head troubled her more. Her mocking of Dumbledore was also aimed at herself.
She hadn't noticed it either!
And had felt smug, thinking it was a sign of "giftedness," like Harry's ability to talk to snakes.
But the mention of Ciri's trail made her heart skip a beat.
A son—and a daughter.
Both important.
She hesitated.
"Come on, Yen. Let's follow Harry's plan," Geralt advised. "You can read later."
"Mr. Dumbledore, please prepare the books for Yennefer."
Yennefer nodded. "Then let's be quick. Please move all the soul-related books to our room from yesterday."
"Severus," Dumbledore turned.
Snape sneered, "Albus, Potter just gave me a load of troublesome tasks."
"I plan to go with them," Dumbledore said with a gentle smile.
Snape glared.
Dumbledore continued, "It's to deal with the soul fragment in Harry's forehead."
Snape turned his head. "Albus, you're worse than Potter."
Reluctantly, he agreed.
Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips, stifling a laugh. "Professor Snape, I need to check some materials in the library too. Let's go together."
They split into two groups—one into the castle, the other out toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest, where a massive hut stood.
Harry stepped forward and knocked.
Inside, a dog scratched the door, barking with excitement.
The man inside grumbled as he opened it. The dog instantly went quiet—it sensed multiple dangerous presences. With a whimper, it fled deeper inside.
"Harry? What are you doing here?" Hagrid looked surprised. "I mean, it's summer break. Why are you still at Hogwarts?"
"And Professor Dumbledore too."
"Oh, and two unfamiliar guests."
He stepped aside. "Come in and sit!"
Harry entered, followed by Dumbledore, then Yennefer and Geralt.
"Would you like something to drink?" Hagrid offered warmly. Summer breaks were always lonely for him. He used to go to the Three Broomsticks or the Leaky Cauldron for fun. But nowadays, people kept trying to bribe him into things with Galleons.
If not for Dumbledore, he'd have been swindled countless times.
"No need—we're here for something specific," Harry said.
Hagrid dragged over a stool. "It's about the giants, isn't it?"
"I've made arrangements with Madam Maxime. She has school matters to handle first. I've also got a Magical Creatures conference coming up. We plan to set out in August. Newt Scamander will join us. A month should be enough to find the giants."
Dumbledore beamed. "Thank you, Rubeus."
Things had become so organized—even Hagrid had matured.
At over seventy years old.
"No, it's not that," Harry shook his head. "It's about magical creature breeding. Like how you bred Blast-Ended Skrewts."
Hagrid hesitated, lowered his voice. "Harry, did you tell anyone else? Breeding magical creatures without permission is illegal."
"I used the Triwizard Tournament as an excuse to breed Skrewts... but if only Hermione and Ron know, then fine. What kind of new species do you want to breed?"
Harry replied blankly, "Not a new species."
He pointed to Geralt. "This is a respected elder of mine. But due to certain... changes, his body can't impregnate a normal woman. We're wondering if you could help."
"Harry, his eyes—they're just like yours!" Hagrid exclaimed, just noticing.
Harry nodded.
"An ancestor of the Potters?" Hagrid asked eagerly, grabbing a wand thick as a staff. With a flick, a pile of rock-hard scones flew over. "Here, have some!"
Geralt picked one up, weighed it, and tapped it lightly. "Oh, very fine weapon."
"But I still prefer swords."
Hagrid's face went stiff.
Harry leaned in and whispered, "Geralt, that's food. To eat."
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Powerstones?
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