Craving Sweetness [OPEN]

[Rowena Jones]

Rowena didn't often come up to Hogsmeade. It wasn't really on the way to anywhere being so far up North and she didn't really know many people up here anymore. It had been ten years since she'd graduated and though James had liked to do the odd date up here and reminisce about the good old simple Hogwarts times (for him maybe, they'd been rather stressful for her...), she hadn't been back since they'd broken up. There just wasn't any reason too. But she'd gone to Nottingham to see her parents that morning, and though it had gone as well as it could have, she just didn't want to go back to her empty home and mope. Plus, she had told herself, and promised her father, that she would try to socialise more.

Why that meant she had come to Hogsmeade when the Leaky Cauldron or really any number of places in London would have done the trick was beyond her, but here she was. And as she stood in front of Honeydukes, a familiar glee came over her. This was her guilty pleasure. Her way of coping when the stress got too much. She really was lucky her body seemed to be able to process sugar quickly otherwise her love of Sugar Quills would have ruined her figure years ago. As it was, it had been a while since she had indulged in her love for all things sweet (except those dreadful beans! She would never get over the trauma of eating a vomit flavoured one that very first Summer) and this seemed like a perfect occasion.

So what if this technically wasn't socialising? There was still time. It was only mid afternoon and she could always pop to the Hogs Head later if she really had to.

[Janika Baumgartner]

Janika had been to Hogsmeade exactly once, just a couple of years ago in her mind, but a lifetime ago in reality. She flexed her curse-scarred arm with a grimace as she remembered the attack. It was only with supreme will that she fought off the phantom limb pain in her right leg. She shook the memories off and thumped forward after her quarry. Her gait was awkward, her magical prosthetic leg having been seized up ever since arriving in this future-world. Despite that, she did her best to blend in, not wanting to attract the notice of her ex-wife as she followed her along the main street of the village.

Yes, she knew that this was borderline stalking. Yes, she should probably pluck up the nerve to actually talk to Helen at some point, to let her know she'd survived the Flux. But when she apparated back to their home and found it dusty and abandoned, and the charmed wedding band on her finger gone, she knew that her love had moved on. And really, could she blame her? 17 years was a very long time. What would she even say?

"Hi, I know you've moved on and made a new life and all that, but maybe you could just abandon all that and come home with me?"

Yeah, right. But Janika knew she'd eventually be able to face her. She just had to work out how.

Her eye caught movement of honey-colored hair as Helen began to turn around. With lightning reflexes, she ducked into the nearest shop front. What should have been a smooth transition into the crowd inside was ruined, however, when her once-magical prosthetic refused to bend and caused her to clomp messily right into one of the patrons. She smacked the leg with a barely concealed snarl and a muttered, "Verdammtes Ding, was ist los mit dir?"

Straightening, she held her hands up in apology as she addressed her victim, her voice throaty and deep. She realized she hadn't actually spoken to many people since she'd arrived here. Her accent felt thicker than usual, as well.

"I'm very sorry, miss," she said, gesturing to her leg, "This contraption hasn't been working right."

[Rowena Jones]

Rowena was happily munching her way through a bar of Honeydukes Dark Chocolate and contemplating which sweets to buy her parents when someone collided with her, sending her bag of Sugar Quills flying. She blinked, shocked out of her debate between Ice Mice or Fizzing Whizzbees and looked sadly at her spilt treats. Ah well, that was probably the universe telling her not to be too much of a pig. Her Sugar Quills though…. They were her absolute favourite… She sighed as she waved her wand with a quick ‘Evanesco’ to clear the mess and peaked over at the source of the incident who was snarling at her own leg. Rowena’s eyebrow rose. How odd.

"I'm very sorry, miss," the stranger said, gesturing to her leg, "This contraption hasn't been working right."

Oooh. Rowena’s interest peaked. She waved away the apology, and looked more closely at the other woman. “Don’t worry about it Miss…? I’m Rowena. Is that… sorry if this is terribly rude, is that a prosthetic?” They were just so incredibly rare. Magical healing was pretty good. It could heal most things, but in some, very, very exceptional cases, the spell damage was just too great. Gosh, she hadn’t seen a case like this since her early days as a Trainee and she hadn’t been allowed anywhere near it then. Experts only. But now, now she was head of the Spell Damage department.

“Have you been to Mungos to get it checked out? Pretty sure they wouldn’t mind taking a look.” And by them, she definitely meant herself. She could barely stop herself from checking it out now.

[Janika Baumgartner]

She'd stumbled into Hell, of that much she was certain.

All around her were bright displays and vibrant colors. Jars filled with fluorescent blue Ice Mice, piles of rainbow pastel Every Flavor Beans, and even what looked like chocolate covered balloons ("Try our new Choco-Dipped Dirigible Plums! Guaranteed to make you float with joy!" proclaimed the sign). Waves of children, leading tired parents by the hand around the store milled about her, making her dizzy. She'd never understood the fascination the British had with their myriad of magical sweets. She was happy with a bar of good, plain Swiss chocolate, thank you very much.

Her ears twitched as she heard the woman she'd run into begin speaking to her.

"You can call me Nika," she said in response to the first query, "And yes, it is a prosthetic. I take no offense."

She frowned down at the useless lump of once-magical metal attached to her leg.

"Or it was, at one time. Now the verdammt thing is a nuisance."

She took that opportunity to whack it once or twice more with her wand for good measure.

She forced herself to look up at her new companion at her suggestion, and narrowed her eyes slightly. Of course she'd thought of going to St Mungos. Just as she'd thought of approaching her old co-workers at the Ministry, what few were left that she knew. But a trip to Gringott's had confirmed for her what she had feared: She was considered dead in all the ways that mattered in Magical Society. It was a miracle the wards around her home in Cornwall hadn't torn her to shreds when she apparated in. And since she hadn't even been a true British citizen before her time-travel catastrophe, she didn't know what that would mean when she re-emerged like all those others who had traveled with her.

"I have not," she said, speaking slowly as she considered what to say, "I have not had the spare time to go."

She winced as she said it. She didn't have time to see a Healer, but she had time to be in a candy shop? Stupid. She continued hastily, "Not that I believe they can do much for it. The charms upon it appear to have been completely dispelled, and it has fused to my leg. I haven't been able to take it off."

[Rowena Jones]

"I have not. I have not had the spare time to go. Not that I believe they can do much for it. The charms upon it appear to have been completely dispelled, and it has fused to my leg. I haven't been able to take it off."

Rowena nodded thoughtfully as she savoured the last bite of her chocolate.

“That does tend to be the problem with charms. They are only meant to last a specific amount of time. Surely whoever gave you this in the first place would have explained that and told you when to renew the charm?”

Charms were notorious for ‘running out’ and were quite often the cause of magical accidents. Just last week she’d had a whole family rushed into the ward after their bonfire had exploded once the containing charm had worn off. She rolled her eyes at the memory. She had never known there were quite so many idiots in the world until she had started working at Mungos. A containment charm for a bonfire, all so they could get close to enjoy the ‘pretty patterns in the flames’ and watch the fire imps dance in the embers… What next?! A bloody tornado? She licked her finger to remove the last trace of chocolate, she was going to have to grab some more before she left. It was too good. She smiled happily. It must be the sugar. She was never usually this cheerful.

“Anyway, Nika, do you want a lemon sherbet by the way?" she asked, offering her new acquaintance the bag of sweets, "Anyway, I just so happen to be Head of the Spell Damage department at Mungos and I’d be more than happy to try and figure out a solution to your problem here. You know, we don’t often get situations so dire that we can’t just regrow the limb, but from what I’ve heard, we don’t use charmed prosthetics really anymore. Too unreliable,” she noted, “and spelled ones work much better. Just how long have you had it?”

[Janika Baumgartner]

“That does tend to be the problem with charms. They are only meant to last a specific amount of time. Surely whoever gave you this in the first place would have explained that and told you when to renew the charm?”

Janika eyed the woman in front of her as she finished off her chocolate. She seemed quite knowledgeable, or at least was confident enough to pull it off even if she was faking. And she was right, the Healer and Enchanter who had created her prosthetic had both told her she would need to regularly have the leg maintained or risk this very situation. And she had, dutifully having it checked up every few months even during the Demon Wars. Of course, that had been more from her wife's insistence than her own sense of well-being. Helen had always been better at taking care of the both of them, at least where their health was concerned.

17 years though...She'd only experienced it as a moment, a flash, but to the magic inhabiting her leg, perhaps it had felt the full weight of the nearly two decades. It was as good an explanation as any for the failure of the charms.

She shook her head lightly, shaking off the ghosts of the past, and opened her mouth to reply when Rowena continued speaking.

"Just how long have you had it?"

She took a piece of the proffered candy without thinking as she pondered how to answer. It was a complicated question, wasn't it? In the few days since she'd arrived here, in 2038, she had told exactly 2 people what had happened to her. Her situation complicated things, in that she was both registered as legally dead as well as not being a legitimate British citizen. But this woman was a Healer, and Healers did love their oaths...

"I was hit by a Dark cutting curse during an attack on this very village, some 20 years ago or so," she said, deciding to throw caution to the wind, "The damage was irreversible. I insisted on a charmed leg because, at the time, their performance was superior, despite their shortcomings."

She blew out a breath, swallowing the last bits of lemon candy, before continuing, "To me, I have had this leg for not quite 2 years. I am one of those caught in what the newspapers are calling The Flux. You may have heard of it, Ja? I believe that may have damaged my leg."

[Rowena Jones]

"I was hit by a Dark cutting curse during an attack on this very village, some 20 years ago or so,"

20 years ago? But she didn’t look older enough for that unless…

"To me, I have had this leg for not quite 2 years. I am one of those caught in what the newspapers are calling The Flux. You may have heard of it, Ja? I believe that may have damaged my leg."

“Ha. Heard of it? It’s hard to miss.” Rowena scoffed. The Flux had perplexed everyone, first by taking so many and now by returning them. It had been plastered all over the news, and her ward had been full of victims of hexes and curses thrown by those who had thought they were appearing just days after the Final Battle. “But that could certainly account for the problem. What was the name of the Healer who originally dealt with the prosthetic? I could consult with them if they’re still around to see if we can save this one or if we’ll have to start from scratch?” the young witch said, healer mode well and truly switched on. Well done Rowena, she thought to herself. Escape to Hogsmeade to get away from work and possibly end up with another project. Excellent work.

She was intrigued though, she couldn’t deny it. Victims of curses bad enough to require a prosthetic in a world where magic could solve most problems were rare. She’d never had to resort to such an extreme herself, though they were living in a time of peace so she supposed there weren’t too many dark curses being thrown around taking off peoples limbs. But still, she couldn’t possibly pass up the chance to get a closer look, compare it with new developments and fix it. And it would be irresponsible of her and dismissive of her Healer’s oath to let the poor woman wander around with that broken thing.

“I mean, I’m not an expert on prosthetics or anything, but I am excellent at my job. I really think we can, in the very least, stop it from seizing up the way it has.” She glanced at Nika, “What do you think? I’m free on Thursday afternoon if you can make it down to London then? That should give me enough time to do a bit of research and have a better idea of where to begin.”

[Janika Baumgartner]

Janika was floored.

So far, she had told a very small handful of people that she had been part of the Flux. The first had forcibly apparated her to St. Mungo's and left her in the mental ward. The rest had had much less extreme reactions, but almost universally they treated her as some sort of scientific marvel and inundated her with questions that she couldn't answer. One had insisted that she give an interview to The Daily Prophet. She'd apparated away from that conversation as soon as humanly possible.

So when she let slip to her new acquaintance the circumstances of her arrival here, she had mentally braced herself for the coming onslaught of questions, especially given that this woman was a Healer and Healers had a habit of asking the most unfortunate questions. Her surprise must have been palpable, then, when Rowena just took her revelation in stride. She was an Auror, though, or at least she had been, and thus did her best to school her emotions as the question of the Healer who had helped her was brought up.

She was brought back to the hours just after the attack, a muddled mixture of flashes of memory and fevered visions. She remembers vividly the feeling of Dark magic creeping up her leg, infesting the weeping wound that wouldn't heal no matter how many times her fellow Aurors had tried their field healing. The pain had been unbearable, made more so by what felt like literal fire climbing up and down the lightning scars that littered her arm, the tracks pulsing a dark and putrid purple in time with the flashes of agony coming from her leg.

She frowned, her only outward sign of the distress those memories brought her.

"A Healer named Elle Callahan helped me. No one else could even stop the bleeding, no matter what they tried. She said the Dark magic was so infused in my tissue that regrowing the leg was impossible. She stopped the spread, and made me this leg."

She shook her head, letting the last of the memories of that day fade as she looked considered the second question. She nodded slowly. "Ja, if you believe truly that you can help me, I will make myself available. Danke schön." The last was said sincerely. It was not often she encountered such selflessness. She turned to go then, but paused, then turned back.

"I am sorry, but I must ask another favor," she said, her eyes apologetic, "I am unsure of my...status...with the Ministry and would prefer to continue staying 'under the radar' as the Muggles say. Would it be too much to ask that our visit remain...private?"