Chapter 8: The Werewolf's Plight

The thunderous applause from the Order of Merlin ceremony still echoed in Kael's mind as he walked through the pristine white corridors of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. His parents had scheduled a routine check-up—not because he needed one, but because the hospital's research department had requested samples of his magical signature for their studies on prodigies. Being the youngest recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class had its drawbacks, one of which was becoming something of a scientific curiosity.

"I still think this is unnecessary," Kael muttered to his mother as they turned another corner. Despite his accomplishments, he was still a nine-year-old boy who detested hospitals.

Selena Vael Stormbane smiled indulgently at her son. "It's just a formality, Kael. Besides, your magical innovations might lead to medical breakthroughs. Isn't that worth a little discomfort?"

Kael sighed dramatically, his striking blue eyes rolling skyward. "I suppose. But couldn't they have just read my grimoire? It's published now, you know." He couldn't help the note of pride that crept into his voice.

"Humility, son," Azrael Stormbane remarked with a knowing smile, his tall figure cutting an impressive silhouette against the sterile hospital walls. "Even the most powerful wizards must remember that power without grace is merely force."

"Yes, Father," Kael replied automatically, though a mischievous grin spread across his face. "But I'm not just powerful, am I? I'm also extraordinarily handsome and irresistibly charming."

Selena chuckled, shaking her head. "And so modest too."

A young Healer approached them, her eyes widening slightly as she recognized the Stormbane family. "Mr. and Mrs. Stormbane, it's an honor. And you must be Kael." She bent slightly to address him directly. "I'm Healer Thornfield. I'll be conducting your examination today."

Kael offered his most charming smile. "Pleasure to meet you, Healer Thornfield. I hope this won't take too long—I have several experiments waiting at home that require my attention."

The Healer blinked, clearly taken aback by the articulation and confidence of the nine-year-old before her. "Of course. Right this way, please."

As they followed her down a corridor, Kael's attention was drawn to a room with its door slightly ajar. Inside, a small boy around his age sat on a bed, his thin frame hunched over and trembling slightly. What caught Kael's eye wasn't the boy's physical state but the curious magical signature emanating from him—a turbulent, almost chaotic energy that seemed to be fighting against the boy's natural magical core.

Without thinking, Kael stopped and stared.

"Kael?" his mother called, noticing he had fallen behind.

"Who is that?" Kael asked, pointing toward the room.

Healer Thornfield glanced where he indicated and her expression softened with sadness. "That's Timothy Lupin. He was... recently bitten. His parents brought him in two days ago after the full moon."

"A werewolf," Kael whispered, not with fear or disgust, but with intense curiosity. The magical disruption made sense now—he was witnessing the conflict between the boy's natural magic and the invasive curse.

"Yes," the Healer confirmed quietly. "We've done all we can for now. The Wolfsbane Potion will help when he's older, but—"

"It only treats the symptoms, not the cause," Kael finished for her, his mind already racing. "May I speak with him?"

Azrael and Selena exchanged concerned glances, but there was a determined gleam in their son's eyes they recognized all too well.

"I don't see why not," Healer Thornfield said after a moment's consideration. "His parents just stepped out for tea. A friendly face his own age might do him good."

Without waiting for further permission, Kael approached the room and gently pushed the door open. The boy looked up, startled by the intrusion.

"Hello," Kael said simply. "I'm Kael."

Timothy studied him warily. His face was pale and drawn, with dark circles under his eyes that spoke of pain and sleepless nights. "Are you a patient too?" he asked in a small voice.

Kael shook his head. "Just here for a check-up." He moved closer, drawn by both compassion and intellectual curiosity. "I heard what happened to you."

Timothy's eyes immediately filled with tears, and he looked away. "Are you going to make fun of me now? Call me a monster?"

"Why would I do that?" Kael asked, genuinely perplexed. "You have a magical condition. That doesn't make you a monster—it makes you a puzzle to be solved."

The younger boy looked up, confusion replacing his fear. "A puzzle?"

Kael nodded, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. "Every curse has a counter. Every magical affliction has a potential cure. It's just a matter of finding the right approach." He spoke with such confidence that Timothy couldn't help but be drawn in.

"But the Healers said there is no cure for lycanthropy," Timothy whispered, the word itself seeming to cause him pain.

Kael's eyes sparkled with determination, the faint lightning-shaped birthmark on his eye seeming to glow with intensity. "They haven't found one yet. But that doesn't mean it's impossible."

"You talk like you could do it yourself," Timothy said with a weak smile, the first hint of hope in his expression.

"And why not?" Kael asked, not a trace of doubt in his voice. "I've already created twelve original spells and written a grimoire. What's one more challenge?"

Before Timothy could respond, the door opened, and a tired-looking couple entered. They froze upon seeing Kael sitting with their son.

"It's all right," Healer Thornfield said from behind them. "This is Kael Stormbane. He wanted to meet Timothy."

Recognition dawned on the faces of Timothy's parents. "The child prodigy?" Mr. Lupin asked, his voice hoarse from what Kael suspected was a night of crying. "The one who received the Order of Merlin?"

Kael stood and offered his hand politely. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Lupin."

Mrs. Lupin took his small hand, clearly bewildered by the formality from a child so young. "You're... friends with our son?"

"We just met," Kael admitted. "But I'd like to be friends, if that's all right." He turned back to Timothy with a genuine smile. "And I'd like to help him, if I can."

"Help him?" Mr. Lupin repeated, a desperate edge to his voice. "What do you mean?"

Kael met his gaze steadily, all traces of his usual mischievous demeanor gone. "I want to study lycanthropy, sir. I believe there might be a way to cure it."

The silence that followed was heavy with emotion—skepticism, hope, disbelief, and desperation all mingling in the sterile hospital air.

"Kael," Azrael finally spoke from the doorway, his deep voice gentle but cautioning. "Perhaps this isn't the time for such discussions."

But Kael stood his ground. "When else would be the time, Father? Timothy is suffering now. Others like him are suffering now." His voice softened as he looked back at the bewildered boy on the bed. "I can't promise immediate results, but I promise to try."

The sincerity in his voice touched even his parents, who knew better than most just how stubborn and determined their son could be when he set his mind to something.

Mrs. Lupin knelt beside Kael, tears streaming down her face. "Do you really think it's possible?" she whispered.

"I do," Kael answered simply. "And I'll need Timothy's help. If he's willing."

All eyes turned to the small figure on the hospital bed. Timothy looked overwhelmed by the attention but met Kael's gaze with newfound courage. "If I can help stop anyone else from going through this... then yes."

"Then it's settled," Kael declared, as if the matter were as simple as deciding on a flavor of ice cream. "I'll begin my research immediately."

As they left the hospital hours later, Kael was uncharacteristically quiet, his mind already sifting through possibilities and approaches.

"That was a rather significant promise you made today," Selena observed carefully. "Lycanthropy has been studied by some of the brightest minds in magical history, and none have found a cure."

Kael nodded absently. "I know, Mother. But none of them had my advantages."

"And what advantages would those be?" Azrael asked, curious about his son's reasoning.

"Fresh perspective," Kael replied promptly. "No preconceived notions about what's 'impossible.' And..." He hesitated, glancing around to ensure they were alone before lowering his voice. "The System."

His parents exchanged knowing looks. The mysterious magical interface that had appeared to Kael on his eighth birthday remained a source of both wonder and concern for them. It claimed to be a gift from his ancestors, designed to help him reach his full potential, but its true nature and purpose remained obscure.

"Speaking of which," Kael continued, his eyes taking on the slightly unfocused look that his parents recognized as him interacting with the System, "I believe it's time for my next set of gifts."

A soft chime only he could hear confirmed his words, and a translucent blue interface materialized before his eyes:

STORMBANE LEGACY SYSTEM

Second Gift Cycle Activated

Analyzing host requirements...

Current challenge detected: Lycanthropy Cure Research

Gifts calibrating...

TALENT GIFT: Enhanced Alchemical Intuition

Effect: Significantly increased understanding of potion interactions and magical-biological transformations.

ABILITY GIFT: Accelerated Learning

Effect: 300% increase in information retention and processing for academic and research pursuits.

MATERIAL GIFT: Rare Potion Ingredients Package

Contents: Phoenix Tears (3 vials), Purified Basilisk Venom (1 vial), Moonstone Essence (5 vials), Refined Wolfsbane Root (12 oz), Dragon Heartstring Essence (2 vials)

Gifts have been bestowed. Use them wisely, heir of Stormbane.

Kael's eyes widened with excitement. "Perfect," he whispered.

"What is it?" Selena asked, concerned by his sudden stillness.

"The System," Kael explained, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. "It's given me exactly what I need to begin my research on lycanthropy."

"And what would that be?" Azrael inquired, both curious and cautious.

Kael's smile was radiant. "Everything."

The following weeks saw a transformation in Kael that both impressed and concerned his parents. The boy who loved pranks and jokes, who reveled in charm and mischief, was suddenly all business. His study became a laboratory of sorts, filled with ancient tomes on curses, biological transformations, and alchemical processes.

"You need to rest, Kael," Selena insisted one evening, finding her son still hunched over his desk well past midnight, his luminescent blue eyes scanning a text on lunar magic.

"I'll rest when I've made progress," Kael replied without looking up. "Timothy transforms again in three weeks. Every full moon is agony for him and others like him."

Selena sighed, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Your compassion does you credit, but exhausting yourself won't help anyone."

Kael finally looked up, and Selena was struck by the intensity in his young face. "Did you know that werewolves often don't survive their first year after being bitten? Especially children. Their bodies can't handle the trauma of the transformation." His voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of anger. "It's not just about finding a cure anymore, Mother. It's about saving lives."

Selena didn't argue further. Instead, she conjured a warm blanket and draped it over his shoulders, then summoned a cup of hot chocolate to place beside his books. "Then at least keep your strength up. Brilliant mind or not, you're still human, Kael."

He smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Mother." As she turned to leave, he added, "Could you ask Father if we could visit the Lupins tomorrow? I need to collect some samples from Timothy—blood before and after moonrise, even if it's not a full moon. I have a theory about the progressive nature of the curse."

"I'll ask him," Selena promised. "Now please, try to get some sleep before dawn."

Kael nodded distractedly, already absorbed back into his research.

True to his word, the next day found the Stormbanes at the modest Lupin cottage. Timothy's parents welcomed them with a mixture of hope and skepticism—the same expression Kael had grown used to seeing on the faces of adults who couldn't quite believe a nine-year-old could accomplish what he claimed.

Timothy himself was in better spirits than at the hospital, though still pale and weak. His eyes lit up when he saw Kael.

"You really came," he said, as if he'd half-expected the whole encounter to have been a dream.

"Of course I did," Kael replied with a confident grin. "I never break a promise." He set down a leather satchel and began unpacking various instruments and vials. "I hope you're not afraid of needles. I need some blood samples."

Timothy grimaced but rolled up his sleeve bravely. "If it helps find a cure, I don't mind."

As Kael worked, carefully collecting samples and making notes, he kept up a steady stream of conversation, showing the social grace and charm that came as naturally to him as breathing.

"So, do you like Quidditch?" he asked, trying to distract Timothy from the needle.

"I love it," Timothy brightened. "The Montrose Magpies are my team. Do you play?"

Kael laughed. "Not yet, but I'm looking forward to trying out at Hogwarts in a couple of years. I'm thinking Chaser, maybe Seeker."

"You'd probably be brilliant at it," Timothy said with unabashed admiration. "You seem good at everything."

"Not everything," Kael admitted, sealing a vial of blood carefully. "I'm terrible at being patient. Just ask my parents."

From across the room, Azrael chuckled. "That's putting it mildly."

The adults had been having their own conversation, with the Lupins asking cautious questions about Kael's research and capabilities.

"Is he really... as gifted as they say?" Mrs. Lupin asked in a hushed voice, watching Kael work with Timothy.

"More so," Selena answered honestly. "But what makes Kael special isn't just his intelligence or magical ability. It's his heart. When he commits to something, nothing can deter him."

Mr. Lupin looked torn between hope and fear of disappointment. "We've consulted every expert, tried every experimental treatment. No one has ever come close to a cure."

"Kael isn't 'every expert,'" Azrael stated simply. "He sees possibilities where others see limitations. And regardless of the outcome, I promise you this—he will not rest until he's explored every avenue."

Over the next month, Kael divided his time between research and visits to the Lupin cottage. He was there the night before the full moon, setting up monitoring charms to record Timothy's transformation from a safe distance. The data he gathered was heartbreaking but invaluable—the agony of the change, the complete subversion of Timothy's magical core, the biological restructuring that no child should have to endure.

When he returned home that night, Kael was uncharacteristically silent, his usual vibrant energy dampened by what he had witnessed.

"It's worse than I thought," he finally said as Selena tucked him into bed, his voice small for the first time in years. "The curse doesn't just change him physically—it tears at the very essence of his magic, his soul."

Selena stroked his dark hair gently. "That's why finding a cure has been so difficult, Kael. Lycanthropy isn't just a disease; it's a fundamental magical transformation."

"But that's just it," Kael sat up suddenly, his eyes alight with realization. "Everyone's been approaching it wrong. They've been trying to suppress the symptoms rather than reverse the transformation itself." He grabbed a notebook from his bedside table and began scribbling frantically. "What if the key isn't fighting the werewolf nature but restructuring the magical core to reject it entirely?"

Selena watched her son work, his small hands moving with frantic energy, his luminescent blue eyes darting across the page as connections formed in his brilliant mind.

"The lunar cycle is the trigger, but not the source," Kael muttered, more to himself than to his mother. "The curse anchors itself in the victim's magical core, creating a parasitic relationship. But what if..." He looked up at Selena, excitement replacing his earlier dejection. "What if we could create a potion that strengthens the original magical signature enough to reject the parasitic curse?"

"It's an interesting theory," Selena said carefully, "but the transformation is considered irreversible because it alters the victim at their most fundamental magical level."

"So does phoenix magic," Kael countered. "Phoenix tears don't just heal physical wounds—they restore magical harmony. That's why they can counteract even basilisk venom, which is as much a magical corruption as it is a physical poison."

Selena's eyes widened slightly. "You're suggesting a combination of phoenix tears and..." Her voice trailed off as she realized the implications.

"And purified basilisk venom," Kael confirmed with a triumphant grin. "Everyone thinks they're incompatible, but they're not—they're complementary. The venom would target and break down the corrupted parts of the magical signature, while the phoenix tears would heal and restore the original state."

"That's... theoretically brilliant," Selena admitted, her own formidable intellect engaged now. "But the balance would be nearly impossible to achieve. Too much venom, and you'd kill the patient. Too little, and the curse would remain intact."

"That's where moonstone comes in," Kael explained, flipping to another page in his notebook where he had sketched a complex alchemical diagram. "Properly processed moonstone essence acts as a stabilizing agent and has a natural affinity for lunar-influenced magic. It could potentially create a buffer, allowing the venom and tears to work in tandem without destroying each other or the patient."

Selena studied the diagram, her expression shifting from skepticism to cautious optimism. "This is advanced alchemical theory, Kael. Where did you learn all this?"

Kael hesitated before answering truthfully. "The System provided me with enhanced alchemical intuition. But I've been studying alchemy for months now too," he added hastily, not wanting his mother to think he was relying solely on the mysterious gifts.

Selena nodded slowly. "You'll need to refine this theory considerably before attempting to create any actual potion. And you'll need to consult with potion masters who—"

"Who won't take a nine-year-old seriously," Kael finished with a sigh. "I know. But I can't just sit back and wait until I'm 'old enough' to be taken seriously. Not when people like Timothy are suffering now."

"Then prove your theory through rigorous research," Selena advised, her tone softening. "Document everything, test each component separately, build an irrefutable case. The way you did with your spells."

Kael's face lit up with renewed determination. "You're right. If I can demonstrate the theoretical framework convincingly enough, even the most skeptical potion masters won't be able to dismiss it."

"That's my brilliant boy," Selena smiled, kissing his forehead. "Now, get some rest. Your mind works better when it's well-rested."

This time, Kael didn't argue. He settled back against his pillows, mind still racing with possibilities, but his body surrendering to much-needed sleep.

The following months saw Kael's bedroom transform into something resembling a cross between a library and a potions laboratory. Books on lycanthropy, lunar magic, alchemical theory, and magical healing were stacked in precarious towers around his desk. Vials of experimental mixtures lined his shelves, each meticulously labeled with dates and notes.

Regular visits to the Lupin cottage became part of his routine. Timothy, despite the toll the monthly transformations took on his young body, became not just a research subject but a friend.

"You don't have to keep coming," Timothy said weakly one day, a week after a particularly brutal full moon. "I know you're busy with your research."

"Nonsense," Kael replied cheerfully, setting up a chess board between them. "All work and no play makes for dull wizards. Besides, I need to check if the supplementary potion I gave you last week is helping with the post-transformation recovery."

Timothy moved a pawn tentatively. "I think it is. I wasn't sick for as long this time."

"Excellent!" Kael beamed, making his own move with confident flair. "That supports my theory about strengthening your natural magical resistance. It's not a cure, but it's a step in the right direction."

"My parents say I shouldn't get my hopes up," Timothy confessed, his voice small. "They say you're brilliant, but... but lycanthropy has never been cured."

Kael looked up from the chess board, his expression unusually serious. "Timothy, do you know what they said about my spell book? That a child couldn't possibly create original, functional spells. That it was beyond my capabilities." His eyes sparkled with mischief. "And yet, here I am, Order of Merlin, First Class."

Timothy smiled weakly. "So you're saying it's possible?"

"I'm saying," Kael replied, moving his knight with a flourish, "that 'impossible' is just a word people use when they lack imagination. Check."

Their chess games became a weekly tradition, as did Kael's experimental supportive potions. Each formula was carefully designed to gather data while providing some measure of relief for Timothy's symptoms. Some focused on physical recovery, others on stabilizing magical fluctuations, and still others on mitigating the psychological trauma of the transformations.

At home, Kael worked tirelessly, filling journal after journal with his findings. Azrael and Selena, recognizing the importance of his mission, provided guidance without interference, trusting their son's judgment while ensuring he didn't push himself too far.

"You've been at this for nearly three months," Azrael observed one evening, finding Kael in his study surrounded by bubbling cauldrons and open books. "How close are you to a breakthrough?"

Kael looked up, dark circles under his bright eyes betraying his exhaustion. "Close, I think. The combination of phoenix tears and basilisk venom is stable in the presence of moonstone essence, just as I theorized. But there's still a missing component—something to bind the patient's original magical signature and prevent the curse from reestablishing itself."

"Have you considered dragon heartstring?" Azrael suggested. "Not the wand core itself, but the essence extracted through alchemical means. Dragon magic is primal and resistant to corruption."

Kael's eyes widened. "That... might be exactly what I need. Dragon heartstring essence could serve as a magical scaffold, reinforcing the patient's original magical structure while the phoenix tears and basilisk venom do their work." He scrambled for a fresh piece of parchment and began sketching a new diagram. "Father, you're brilliant!"

Azrael chuckled. "I merely suggested a component. You're the one building a cure that has eluded wizardkind for centuries."

As winter gave way to spring, Kael's research advanced in leaps and bounds. The experimental potions he provided to Timothy showed increasingly promising results—shorter recovery times, less severe transformations, and more human awareness during the full moon. But they were still treatments, not a cure.

The breakthrough came on a stormy April night, as thunder echoed the Stormbane name outside their manor windows. Kael had been working for sixteen hours straight, combining and recombining ingredients in precise measurements, when a gentle golden glow began to emanate from his cauldron.

"Mother! Father!" he shouted, his voice cracking with excitement. "I think I've done it!"

Azrael and Selena rushed to his study, finding their son standing beside a cauldron filled with a luminous golden liquid that seemed to pulse with its own heartbeat.

"Is that—" Selena began, her expert eye already analyzing the potion's characteristics.

"The final formula," Kael confirmed, his face aglow with triumph and the reflection of the golden light. "I've tested each component separately, and the alchemical theory is sound. This should sever the curse's connection to the magical core entirely, allowing the original magical signature to reassert itself."

"The stability is remarkable," Azrael observed, studying the potion closely. "I've never seen phoenix tears harmonize so perfectly with other ingredients."

"It's the moonstone catalyst," Kael explained, unable to contain his excitement. "It creates a magical resonance that aligns with the lunar influence of the curse, essentially turning the curse's strength against itself."

"Have you tested it yet?" Selena asked cautiously.

Kael's excitement dimmed slightly. "Only on samples of infected blood. It neutralized the lycanthropic markers completely. But for a full cure..." He hesitated.

"You need a living subject," Azrael finished for him, understanding his son's dilemma.

"Yes," Kael admitted. "And I'm not willing to risk Timothy's life on an untested potion, no matter how promising the theory."

"A wise decision," Selena said approvingly. "So what's your next step?"

Kael squared his shoulders, looking more like the powerful wizard he would become than the child he still was. "Documentation. Rigorous documentation of every aspect of this potion—its composition, effects, theoretical framework, everything. Then I'll submit it to St. Mungo's research department for review."

"They'll be skeptical," Azrael warned.

"Let them be," Kael replied confidently. "The evidence will speak for itself."

The following weeks were a whirlwind of activity. Kael compiled a comprehensive research document detailing every aspect of what he had now named the "Lykathos Draught." He worked with methodical precision, leaving no question unanswered, no theory unexplained.

When the document was complete, running to over three hundred pages of detailed analysis, diagrams, and experimental results, he submitted it to St. Mungo's with a formal request for clinical trials.

The response was predictably dismissive at first. A polite but condescending letter thanking "young Master Stormbane" for his "imaginative approach" but suggesting that lycanthropy research should be left to "experienced professionals."

But Kael Stormbane was not one to be easily dismissed. Drawing on the fame his Order of Merlin had brought him, he requested—and received—a formal hearing before the hospital's research committee.

On the day of the hearing, Kael arrived dressed in formal wizarding robes, his demeanor serious but confident. His parents flanked him protectively as they entered the imposing conference room where a panel of twelve of the most distinguished magical researchers and healers in Britain awaited them.

"Mr. Stormbane," the chief researcher began, looking down at Kael with poorly concealed skepticism, "while we respect your... enthusiasm, you must understand that lycanthropy has been studied by experts for centuries without success."

"I understand that completely," Kael replied politely. "And I've studied those previous attempts thoroughly. Their fundamental flaw was approaching lycanthropy as a disease rather than a magical corruption of one's core signature."

"And you believe you've solved this problem that has eluded the greatest magical minds?" another researcher asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I believe I've approached it from a different angle," Kael corrected, his voice steady. "And yes, I believe my solution has merit, or I wouldn't be here."

For the next three hours, Kael defended his research with the precision and confidence of a seasoned academic. He answered questions that were clearly designed to expose his youth and inexperience with such thorough knowledge that even the most skeptical committee members began to listen with growing interest.

"The combination of phoenix tears and basilisk venom should be fatally incompatible," one potions expert challenged.

"In their raw state, yes," Kael agreed. "But when catalyzed through properly prepared moonstone essence under the influence of specific lunar phases, they create a harmonized duality—destruction and renewal working in concert rather than opposition."

By the end of the session, the atmosphere in the room had shifted from dismissive to cautiously intrigued.

"We will need to review your research more thoroughly before making any decisions regarding clinical trials," the chief researcher concluded, his tone considerably more respectful than at the beginning.

"Of course," Kael nodded. "I welcome your scrutiny. The research will withstand it."

As they left the hospital, Azrael placed a proud hand on his son's shoulder. "You handled that magnificently, Kael. Many adult wizards would have crumbled under such questioning."

Kael grinned, his usual exuberant personality reasserting itself now that the formal proceedings were over. "They thought they could intimidate me with big words and stern looks. But I wrote the book on magical innovation—literally!"

Selena laughed. "There's our confident boy. For a moment in there, I thought you'd been replaced by a miniature professor."

"Just playing the part," Kael winked. "Sometimes you have to speak their language to be heard."

The wait for the committee's decision was agonizing. Kael continued his regular visits to Timothy, whose condition was deteriorating despite the supportive potions. The curse was taking its toll on the young boy's body, just as Kael had feared.

"You have to hold on," Kael told him during a particularly difficult recovery period after the full moon. "I'm close to a cure. So close."

Timothy managed a weak smile. "I'm trying, Kael. I believe in you."

Those simple words—"I believe in you"—strengthened Kael's resolve. He returned to his research with renewed vigor, refining and improving the Lykathos Draught while waiting for official approval to test it.

Finally, nearly two weeks after the hearing, an owl arrived bearing the St. Mungo's seal. With trembling fingers, Kael broke the seal and read the parchment within:

Dear Mr. Stormbane,

After thorough review of your research on the Lykathos Draught, the committee has voted to proceed with limited clinical trials under controlled conditions. Your theoretical framework is sound, and your experimental results merit further investigation.

Please present yourself at St. Mungo's Research Department on Monday next to discuss the parameters of these trials.

Yours sincerely, Healer Bartholomew Huxley Chief of Research, St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

Kael let out a whoop of joy, jumping up from his desk with such enthusiasm that he nearly knocked over a rack of potion vials. "They approved it! They're going to test the Lykathos Draught!"

His parents rushed in, alerted by his shout. "The committee agreed?" Selena asked, reading the letter over Kael's shoulder.

"Limited trials, but yes!" Kael confirmed, practically bouncing with excitement. "This is it—the first step to a real cure!"