Only Six Months

"Young wizard." Goblin Pedro's short figure loomed over Anton as he stared at him coldly. "I know what Fiennes is like. I can't count how many apprentices he's tortured to death."

"You don't love your teacher nearly as much as you think you do."

Pedro's words struck like a giant arrow, piercing the young wizard's heart. Anton visibly hesitated.

"This isn't a potion. It's the tears of a Two-Headed Siren. Anyone who swallows it merely falls into an illusion. You'd only be giving your teacher a pleasant dream."

The young wizard's eyes widened as he stepped back. "You're lying!"

The goblin sneered. "I can see fear in your eyes. You don't love your teacher. You're afraid of him!"

"But you defied his wishes and brought your uncle here. Aren't you afraid he'll hit you with the Cruciatus Curse when he finds out?"

The goblin's voice took on a persuasive tone. "You have no way out anyway, do you?"

Okay!

The mood was perfect, and the actor was playing along beautifully.

Anton's eyes filled with terror. He yanked up his sleeve, exposing the spell runes on his wrist, and snapped, "What do you know? I have no way to resist my teacher!"

The goblin glanced down, his eyes full of contempt. "Fiennes has some talent with the Cruciatus Curse, but that's about it. This strange little spell may look hard to break, but it's nothing to me."

Oh?

He could deal with this too?

Anton's eyes lit up. "If I drug my teacher, I'll have to run. I'll be all alone with nowhere to go. I need money."

The goblin sneered and tapped a finger against the pocket of Anton's wizarding robes.

Clink, clink!

Gold Galleons jingled inside.

"Young wizard, don't push your luck!"

All right. Better quit while I'm ahead. Anton took a deep breath, as though he had made up his mind. "You have to cure my uncle and remove the spell on my hand."

The goblin nodded. "And you must pour this bottle into your teacher's food. Tell me, can you do it? I can only give you one year."

Anton nodded solemnly.

"Then, Mr. Rosier." The goblin turned to the middle-aged wizard watching from the sidelines. "Would you mind witnessing our agreement and casting an Unbreakable Vow for us?"

"With pleasure." Rosier drew his wand and smiled at the child and the goblin. They were about the same height. It was rather amusing.

He looked at Anton gravely. "Young wizard, I should warn you: no one can break free of an Unbreakable Vow. The only person I know of who escaped its punishment is Dumbledore, the Greatest White Wizard of the Century. No one else has."

"If someone breaks the vow they make, they will die."

Anton did not look at him. The middle-aged man's eyes were too piercing. He silently glanced at Lupin in the chair and pressed his lips together. "I don't have a choice, do I? I'll pour the potion into my teacher's mouth myself."

"Very good." Rosier gave Anton a curious look. "Take each other's hands."

His wand swept through the air. A pinkish-purple light coiled around Pedro's and Anton's arms like a rope.

It flashed once, then vanished.

Anton felt a strange certainty: if he broke the vow, he really would die.

But...

How hard could it be?

He'd pour it in as soon as he got back.

Anton carefully put the potion bottle away, only to see Pedro bring over an arm.

A grayish-white arm that looked real—and dried out!

"White's Hand." The goblin held it up as casually as if it were made of plastic. "An arm with a little magical power. A common potion ingredient."

Anton recoiled.

As the old wizard's test subject, he had drunk all kinds of potions over the past two months, with who knew what mixed into them.

But this was human flesh!

He couldn't accept that!

The goblin grabbed Anton's hand and gently pressed the arm against his elbow.

"Huh?" Anton flexed his fingers in surprise. The arm moved at his will, as though it had grown there all along.

"Amazing!"

Even the little girl, Anna Rosier, came over at the sound and stared at his hand with wide, curious eyes.

Pedro curled his lip. "It's just a little trick. You can move it, but you can't lift anything heavy or use it to hold a wand and cast spells."

As he spoke, he chanted a strange incantation. A faint glow appeared on Anton's arm.

Before long, Anton could hardly tell where his original arm ended and the new one began.

The incantation ended.

The goblin pulled off the dried arm and pointed to the spell mark on its wrist. "See? That flashy curse was useless. A simple Confundus Charm took care of it."

Anton touched his wrist in astonishment. The skin was smooth and pale, with no trace of the intricate, tattoo-like spell that had been there before.

The goblin tossed the arm into Anton's arms. "Keep it attached to your body. Anywhere will do. Your teacher won't notice that the spell has moved. Take it off when you need to."

"An ingenious approach."

Mr. Rosier applauded from the side. "I was just considering how to remove that curse myself. Master Pedro, that was brilliant!"

The goblin waved a hand, as though he had done nothing worth mentioning.

But the slight curl of his lips made his pride obvious.

"That takes care of your problem. Get back to your teacher." The goblin was plainly dismissing him. He held a cigar between his lips and studied Lupin. "A werewolf, and injured by a master of the Cruciatus Curse. Troublesome."

"But not beyond me." Holding the cigar between his fingers, the goblin looked proudly at Anton. "I can cure him in six months."

Anton's eyes widened in disbelief. "Six months?"

The goblin cackled. "Yes. Only six months."

Damn it, it actually took six months. Anton nearly lost his composure.

"Off you go. I don't like human wizards here." The goblin turned to glance at the middle-aged wizard. "My friend is an exception, of course."

Then he smiled at little Anna. "And our little princess is always welcome to come learn alchemy from me."

Right.

That left him as the only outsider.

Anton hesitated. "Can I visit my uncle while he's being treated?"

The goblin considered it. "Once every two weeks."

Anton nodded. Fair enough.

Dragging his large suitcase out the door, he gazed blankly at the sea and gripped his old wand, torn.

Where was he supposed to go now?

He felt like a leaf fallen from its tree, carried along by the current, drifting everywhere with nowhere to put down roots.

If Lupin were with him, he could consider moving to the Muggle World, where the quality of life was better.

But going there alone was out of the question.

He was a malnourished ten-year-old. Without an adult to stand up for him, even renting a place would be difficult.

At last, he felt the Gold Galleons in his pocket. "All right, wizarding world. I'm back."