Chapter 11 – Echoes in the Ice

As Sam was being escorted (read: dragged) to her assigned room by an indignant Kreacher, Harry couldn't help but smirk at the expression on her face. It was the same look he'd seen on Dudley's face when Aunt Petunia told him he couldn't have dessert before dinner—a perfect combination of outrage, frustration, and barely restrained rebellion. It was oddly charming coming from someone who could probably dismantle a nuclear warhead with a paperclip.

He shook his head fondly and turned back to Hudo, who had been waiting patiently.

"So, Hudo," Harry said, wiping the last of the grin from his face, "you mentioned you had something to show me?"

"Yes, Master Harry," Hudo replied, ears perking up. "While we were restoring this base, Hudo and the others discovered something... unusual. We thought you should see it yourself."

Harry gestured forward. "Lead the way."

Hudo nodded and guided him through the pristine corridors of the Alteran base. The closer they got to the sublevels, the colder and more sterile the air felt. As they approached a lift, the doors whooshed open automatically, responding to their presence. Harry was once again reminded of the fascinating blend of magic and technology in this place.

"No buttons?" he asked, amused.

"The lift responds to thoughts, Master," Hudo said proudly. "So long as the person knows where they wish to go."

"Of course it does," Harry muttered, shaking his head. "Leave it to the Ancients to make even elevators complicated."

The lift began its descent, the soft hum of magic and machinery blending into a calming ambient thrum. When the doors opened again, they stepped into a long hallway that ended in a pair of sliding doors. Hudo led him into a chamber Harry quickly recognized as an infirmary.

The room was unlike anything he'd seen at St. Mungo's. Sleek stasis pods lined the walls, each glowing with a soft golden light. Advanced medical instruments hovered mid-air, occasionally pulsing or adjusting their orientation based on readings only they understood. At the far end of the room, a small elf-sized table held a simmering cauldron, thick steam curling from its surface.

Harry raised a brow. "Is someone injured?"

"No, Master," Hudo replied solemnly. "This potion is for our guest."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Guest?"

Without a word, Hudo motioned him over to one of the active pods. Inside was a woman—tall, graceful even in unconsciousness, with silver-white hair and a complexion untouched by time. She lay in a restful state, suspended in glowing stasis.

"Who is she?" Harry asked quietly. "Where did you find her?"

"Encased in ice, Master," Hudo answered. "Not far from this base. We were clearing out the area and detected faint signs of life. She was frozen deep beneath the glacier. We brought her here immediately."

Harry's breath caught. "She's alive?"

"Yes, Master," Hudo said with a mix of awe and worry. "Barely, but yes. Based on her readings, she is... millions of years old."

Harry stared at him.

"Millions?"

"Yes, Master. She should not be alive. But somehow, her magic and the stasis field protected her. However..."

Hudo paused, wringing his fingers nervously.

"She is suffering from Magical Fever. A very advanced strain."

Harry's expression darkened instantly.

Magical Fever.

He remembered the stories. It had ravaged the magical community in the late 19th century. The Muggles had called it the Third Pandemic of 1894. The magical community had nearly collapsed under its weight. Ninety-five per cent of wizards infected had perished, and the Muggle mortality rate was barely better. Had it not been for Sarah Grey—a brilliant muggle-born witch who discovered the cure—the magical world might not have survived.

"You're sure?"

"Yes, Master. The magical virus is deeply embedded in her system. We've begun treatment using a combination of magic and the potion we prepared. It will take time."

Harry nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on the woman in the pod.

"How long before we can safely wake her?"

"Three months, perhaps more," Hudo said. "And another two or three to strengthen her body after purging the fever. It must be done slowly, or her core could collapse."

Harry sighed. "Do whatever it takes. She might be the last of her kind. We owe her that much."

Hudo straightened with a determined nod. "We will ensure she survives, Master. You have Hudo's word."

Harry gave the elf a small smile and placed a hand on the pod's surface.

"Rest well," he whispered. "You've waited long enough."

Later That Evening

Hudo led Harry to a suite that had once belonged to the base's commander. It was spacious and tastefully decorated in the subdued elegance typical of the Alterans. There were bookshelves carved into the walls, a small meditation area, and a desk that looked like it could also control starships if someone pressed the right button.

Harry barely noticed. He collapsed onto the bed, robes and all, and was asleep in moments.

The Next Morning

Harry awoke to soft morning light spilling through smart-glass windows. As he stirred, the windows adjusted their tint, allowing the gentle warmth of the sunrise to enter. Beyond the glass, a glacial lake glistened under the golden light, framed by mountains.

He stretched slowly, savouring the peace. But it wouldn't last. Today was too important.

After his morning routine and a quick breakfast prepared by Dobby—who insisted on a full English despite Harry's protests—he donned his battle robes, cast a Bubble-Head Charm, and Apparated out.

Hogsmeade Highlands, Scotland

Harry appeared with a sharp pop at the centre of Hogsmeade's once-bustling square. The silence was deafening.

Nature had reclaimed the village. Ivy swallowed walls, weeds choked roads, and several rooftops had collapsed inward. He could barely make out the ruins of Honeydukes and the Three Broomsticks beneath the overgrowth.

He strolled, every step a blow to his memory.

When he reached the gates of Hogwarts, he paused.

They were shut.

That alone chilled him more than the Antarctic air had.

Hogwarts' gates had always been open to him. Always.

He raised his wand, tapped the handle, and fed a pulse of magic into the ancient hinges. With a groan, the iron doors creaked open.

He exhaled in relief.

The castle still recognized him.

He stepped forward.

He didn't know what he would find within those walls. But it was time to go home.

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