Chapter 9.3- Doom Days

“You? I’ll believe it when I see it" The woman said, almost chuckling at the thought. I heeded her bustling and took a seat on the bed where Fleur had just now vacated to go on to speak to Cedric. I briefly wondered what that was about but turned my attention to Pomphrey when she began casting diagnostic spells. The moment she noticed my attention on her wandwork, she seemed to freeze up.

“What are you doing, Potter?”

“Just curious about healing magic, Madam Pomphrey. You know I end up here so often.” I said instantly, the combination of Doom and Riddle being extremely old hands when it came to manipulating people into doing what thy wanted with nothing more than words on their side.

“I see. Watch then. I can not teach because I am sworn to oaths to only pass on what I know to an official apprentice taken with the consent of the ICW” She said and then began to wave her wand in a much slower and more deliberate fashion than before. Almost like she was making sure that every wand movement was executed with its textbook form and not the personalized flair that tended to bleed into casting with experience. i took the gesture for the boon it was and took note of every wand movement and carefully enunciated incantation in my mind. It spoke of a unique level of confidence in my faculties that she so easily believed me capable of keeping pace with her.

Of course, not even the promise of healing magic could make me forget what Pomphrey had just unwittingly spilled. She was a Mediwitch trained by the ICW. That was interesting for so many reasons. I was more aware of the politics from Riddle’s age than the modern times so it as possible that I had things wrong, but the idea of a healer under the ICW’s aegis being stationed at the Premier wizarding education facility in the British isles was a coup. A massive coup. I guess the only thing that would have made it palatable was the fact that Dumbledore served as the head of said International group.

“You can go receive your scores now, Mr. Potter.” Pomphrey said, gesturing to the tent hole that the others had just gone through. Even the heavily bandaged and limping Krum had taken to his feet despite the warnings from his healer that he should do the exact opposite. I waited for him to make his way towards the entrance and walked to join him so he stepped into the spotlight just a second before I did. Like I expected, the bright flashes of cameras went off instantly. Krum turned to me with a scowl that I answered with a smile.

I’d bet a substantial amount that every British or anti-Bulgarian paper would use that particular picture at least once in their coverage of the events. We walked forward to join Cedric and Fleur where they were standing.