Chapter 231 230. Pain.

The day after the attack, Severus received a letter from an old acquaintance informing him that the bounty on his head had been lifted. An hour later, another arrived—containing apologies from the deputy head of the mercenaries' guild, a request not to hold a grudge, and assurances that nothing of the sort would happen again, as they would henceforth vet every assignment more thoroughly.

Of course, such courtesy from an organization boasting over two thousand wizards was rarely extended to anyone. But Severus had become an exception after the returning mercenary shared his account and they uncovered what they could about a certain ihiros—someone even magical Britain's government feared accidentally offending, to say nothing of his exploits. Thanks to their connections, they had also learned of the conflict that day, when ihiros himself had raised a colossal dome and almost playfully dismantled an entire squad of Ferzi—and not a weak one at that. The Ferzi themselves had chosen not to escalate and retreated.

These exploits alone demonstrated the power of an unknown but formidable wizard—one best not crossed. As a gesture, they forwarded him the client's entire deposit along with everything they had managed to dig up on him.

Honestly, such treatment surprised even Severus. He hadn't anticipated such a dramatic reaction. He was curious why they had responded so intensely, but he decided to shelve that question until after Hogwarts. He planned to visit the neighboring continent anyway—the teachers' guild was located there, and the meeting of the world's most brilliant wizards would take place in 1979. Severus would sort all that out then. For now, Black Star would handle the search for the client—he had already passed along all gathered intelligence. Before that, however, he intended to linger in France. Beyond his scheduled meeting with Flamel, he wanted to visit Beauxbatons, the country's magical school, and study their library. There, too, he planned to finally lift Nagini's curse and restore her human form.

In magical Britain itself, the Ministry of Magic learned of the attack only a week later. That same day, a group from the Research Department arrived at Severus's door with the complete documentation package for the refined dragon pox serum. From them—or rather, from the department head, whose thoughts he read—he learned that someone had whispered in the Minister's ear about the matter, and the Minister had been pushing the entire department to expedite verification, certification, and patenting. So instead of the stated month, they completed everything in a week—Severus was more than satisfied.

The very next day, a reply arrived from St. Mungo's Hospital with an invitation for a meeting, signed by the Head Healer himself, Nicholas Barnett.

When Severus Apparated to the hospital, he was greeted by a pleasant hall with white-tiled walls and a marble floor. Along the walls stood long benches and slightly uncomfortable chairs, each occupied by one or two patients. Two patients in particular stood out: one had a head the size and shape of a swollen balloon; the other had turquoise skin, six arms, and four pairs of eyes.

Behind a gray counter near where Severus had appeared stood a young woman in a green dress with a white apron and a matching triangular hat. Above her hung a sign: "If you don't know where to go, cannot speak properly, or don't remember why you came, our welcome-witch will be happy to help you." It amused him to no end.

Just as he was about to head toward the stairs, he noticed a woman in a healer's uniform approaching—a woman with blond hair gathered in a ponytail, blue eyes, and an icy yet rather pleasant face.

"Good day, Mr. Prince. Please follow me, the Head Healer is waiting for you in his office," she said with a slight bow.

"I can't help but agree, today is indeed a wonderful day," he replied with a much lighter smile, then glanced toward the six-armed man and added, "Though not for everyone."

She also glanced at the poor fellow, but showed no reaction, simply turning and walking ahead. Severus calmly followed, observing the patients and other healers moving through the corridor.

*Another McGonagall… though… no, this is a more advanced case. Even in her thoughts, she thought only of work.* He chuckled to himself, yet felt a twinge of envy for the Head Healer's staff selection. Beyond being quite beautiful, she was hardworking, and at work, she thought of nothing else, which was exceedingly rare.

They walked only a short distance, perhaps thirty meters, before stopping at a door numbered '113.' Just below was a plaque reading 'Mitchell O'Neil.' After a few seconds, he sensed a magical surge with a spatial element to it, and the name on the plaque changed to 'Nicholas Barnett.'

*Clever.* He nodded approvingly, quite eager to study their method of rune application and combinations. Rarely did anyone use them this way: most focused on a single object rather than an entire office. Still, he considered the method highly magic-intensive and inefficient; one could simply apply modified Portal charms to the doors themselves, limited to this building, rather than relocating an entire office.

Knock knock-knock. Having knocked and heard a calm "Come in," the woman opened the door, stepped aside to let him pass, then closed it with a slight bow, remaining outside.

In the office, Severus observed the bald, elderly man seated behind the desk with mild interest: his short goatee and sharp features lending him a certain seriousness, even a predatory air. He wore a simple green robe over a classic suit with a green tie.

"Delighted to meet you, Mr. Prince. I was genuinely surprised to learn the author of that research was a mere student who'd managed to secure Slughorn and Pomfrey as mentors."

"I simply got lucky." Severus shook his head indifferently, pushing aside the chair in front of him unceremoniously and sitting opposite the head of the hospital, whose eyes twitched at the gesture. He added, "So what did you want to discuss? I thought I'd written everything in sufficient detail that even a fool could understand."

At the insult, the elderly man said nothing, his face twisting slightly. Clearly, he knew how to compose himself, which was unsurprising given his profession.

"Some of your analysis methods raised questions for me." A stack of A4 sheets ten centimeters thick appeared in his hand, landing heavily on the desk.

"May I ask which ones?"

"For example: biochemical blood analysis or enzyme-linked immunosorbent assay. Do you consider these sufficiently effective in detecting and analyzing magical illness?" He regarded Severus with a cold gaze that would have made any other healer tremble, but Severus met it calmly, even smiling.

"Did you read my work? I described in detail all possible changes in the subject's body. For the most part, it was primarily through Muggle technology enhanced by magic that I learned about the effects of white fern and tratvinka on the virus. Magical rituals and analytical charms were of little help at such a subtle level. I also wrote about this in detail in the section suggesting improvements to hospital equipment. Conventional methods have long been outdated."

"Mr. Prince!" The Head Healer raised his voice slightly, regarding him gloomily. "Think about what you write and say! You're suggesting we become like… Muggles?!"

"I said no such thing." Severus calmly shook his head, his expression unchanged. "I'm only suggesting we borrow and improve certain technologies and methods that could help the magical world eliminate numerous diseases and increase wizard survival rates. Compared to Muggles, we are almost nothing. We don't even make up one percent of the Earth's population. I wrote about this in that paragraph. Did you even read my work, or did you see the words 'borrow Muggle technologies' and immediately stop?"

"Mr. Prince! Watch your language and show respect! I am much older than you!"

"And am I arguing? You're older, but as they say, the older a person is, the more… stupid they become?"

Severus drawled innocently, his voice carrying a note of uncertainty. Then, as if catching himself and ignoring the healer's crimson face, he corrected himself.

"Oh! I mean, stubborn? Or more senile? No, that doesn't fit… damn, I don't recall how that magazine put it." After a moment of deep contemplation, his eyes lit up. "Right... wiser! Forgive me—such similar words."

"GET OUT!" the old man roared with rage, seizing a steel statuette of St. Mungo from the desk and hurling it at Severus, who had finally driven him mad.

"Ohhh… so now I can defend myself and have every right to shove your conservative views and that statuette up your arse?" he asked with a bright smile, catching the statuette with telekinesis.

"Why, you pathetic half-blood! I'll..." But when his finger touched his wand, he froze, and to his amazement, couldn't even speak, only move his eyes. Though panic began forming in their depths, he continued shooting lightning from them.

"Now I have every right to defend myself." As Severus rose from the table under the elderly wizard's wary gaze, the statuette hovering above his hand began melting before their eyes, transforming into a very long, thick object. At the sight, the panic in Barnett's eyes grew into primal terror. "You know, I read somewhere that prostate massage is very beneficial. I propose we test it: conduct an experiment, so to speak! And don't worry, this is entirely magical technology; I bought that magazine in Diagon Alley for three Sickles, which was rather expensive! So it will definitely work. Probably. In any case, I propose you become a pioneer!"

He said all this with his brightest smile as he lifted Barnett with magic. "But you know, I've no desire to look at an old man's wrinkled behind." His face twisted and he glanced toward the corner where a small, invisible, wrinkled creature with large ears was watching them. "Someone else will help you with this difficult task… my personal recommendation." He grinned at the hovering giant, thick as a wrist, then into the eyes filled with primal horror. "…start sweating, or… well, you know, it will hurt. Very much."

*Stop! I beg you! Don't! You bastard! Damn half-blood! Mudblood! Filth! Don't you dare…!* But no matter how much Barnett screamed in his mind, no matter how much he insulted and begged for mercy, Severus didn't hear him, and had no desire to read his thoughts. When Barnett felt a cool breeze on his backside, he went completely white and began to tremble.

"Come here, little one. Come on, don't be afraid." With a kind expression, Severus beckoned the frightened, ragged house-elf, and after subduing the creature with a nonverbal Imperius, he ordered, "Grab it with telekinesis. Good boy. And now…" Looking away, he lowered Barnett's underpants. "Insert!" And in the next instant, Barnett's eyes flew open to nearly the size of a Galleon, and such a soul-rending moan escaped from his mouth that anyone hearing it, no matter how resilient, would have experienced PAIN!

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