Chapter 98: Magic Exhaustion

Edward reached the library after midnight knowing exactly which rule he was breaking.

The Restricted Section request remained unsigned in Snape's office. Madam Pince had moved Advanced Fire Control and Magical Amplification from the sorting cart, but Edward had watched where she placed it behind the locked gate. He could still turn around, return to the dormitory, and report the temptation in the morning.

Instead, he used a simple unlocking charm.

The book smelled of dust and scorched leather. Its opening pages were less impressive than the title. Several passages contradicted one another, the translation shifted between technical language and mystical claims, and warnings filled the margins in at least three different hands.

Edward should have taken that as confirmation of Snape's refusal.

He found the section on Elementalization anyway.

The author described compressing a transformed body by forcing more magic into a smaller shape. The theory did not claim that a wizard became stronger. It claimed only that concentration could make the transformed state occupy less space, at the cost of rapidly increasing strain during reversion.

A warning in red ink covered the bottom of the page: proceed gradually. Stop at pain, numbness, confusion, or loss of boundary between flesh and flame.

Edward had already felt two of those during supervised practice.

He kept reading.

The next section proposed drawing on deeper reserves during the transformation. Edward understood the danger well enough to recognize the language. Ash was not a separate power waiting to be released. The name described a partition of Edward's own magic and survival instincts, shaped by fear, anger, and the protective imprint his mother had left. Forcing more of that magic forward would not produce knowledge. It would only give a reckless decision more fuel.

He closed the book.

Then he opened it again.

Edward told himself he would test only his hand. He moved to the stone floor at the end of the aisle, cleared loose parchment away, and placed his wand within reach. No one else had agreed to the test. No professor stood nearby. The precautions looked careful only because the central decision was not.

He transformed his left hand.

Orange light replaced skin from fingertips to wrist. Edward narrowed the flame until it fit inside the outline of two fingers. Pain arrived immediately.

He should have stopped.

Instead, he tried to extend the transformation to his forearm while keeping the compressed shape.

The fire bucked outward.

Edward released the compression, but the change did not end. Flame raced past his elbow and across his shoulder. He seized his wand with the other hand and tried to reverse the transformation.

Nothing happened.

Heat struck his chest from inside.

"Finite!"

The spell disrupted the loose flame around him but not the Elementalization already consuming his body. A shelf beside him began to smoke.

Edward's fear supplied exactly what the book had warned about. Magic surged harder.

"Fire!" Madam Pince shouted from the far aisle.

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Edward heard running feet and the crack of a containment charm. He tried to step away from the shelves, but his left leg changed before his foot landed. For an instant he no longer knew whether the orange shape at the edge of his vision was his arm, his robe, or burning parchment.

Boundary confusion.

The warning from the book arrived in his mind much too late.

"Do not come closer!" he shouted.

Madam Pince did not. She sealed the aisle and sent a silver message through the library doors.

Edward dropped to one knee. His body flickered between flesh and flame. He tried the opposite of compression, letting the transformation spread instead of forcing it smaller, but the magic answered in pulses he could no longer time.

A stack of old catalogues caught fire.

He extinguished them with a desperate sweep of his wand and nearly lost control of his right hand in the process. The room tilted.

The last thing Edward remembered was Snape's voice from beyond the containment charm.

"Do not compress. Let it recede."

Edward tried.

Darkness took him before he knew whether he succeeded.

He woke to white curtains and the medicinal smell of the hospital wing.

His mouth was dry. Every limb felt heavy, and the first attempt to call a flame produced nothing but warmth at the center of his palm.

Madam Pomfrey noticed him moving and appeared beside the bed.

"Do not try that again," she said.

Edward let his hand fall. "How long?"

"Two days mostly asleep, another day drifting in and out. Magical exhaustion, heat stress, and several minor burns. You were fortunate. The library was more fortunate than you deserved."

He closed his eyes.

"The books?"

"Ask Madam Pince when she is willing to look at you without reaching for a weapon."

That seemed fair.

Snape arrived before lunch with a written incident report. He did not shout. Edward would almost have preferred it.

"Read," Snape said.

The report listed the facts Edward had missed after losing consciousness. Snape and Dumbledore had contained the aisle, waited for a lull in the transformation, and pulled Edward clear only after enough of his body returned to flesh for a Summoning Charm to act safely. Three shelves were scorched. Eleven books suffered heat or smoke damage. Two old catalogues were ruined beyond repair. No one else was injured.

The restricted book had been sealed as evidence.

"The damage will be assessed," Snape said. "You will assist with restoration where Madam Pince permits it. Your independent fire practice is suspended. Your access to the Restricted Section is suspended. Elementalization is suspended until the staff decide whether you may resume it at all."

Edward read the list twice.

"Understood."

"Do you?"

"I knew you had refused the book. I knew compression caused pain. I went anyway."

Snape's expression remained hard. "Why?"

Edward could have said the Chamber. Pipes. A possible need to enter narrow passages. All were true and none excused the choice.

"Because I wanted to prove I could solve the limitation."

"Better. Keep that answer. It is less flattering and more useful."

Snape left the report for him to sign after Madam Pomfrey approved his concentration.

Hermione visited that afternoon during ordinary hours. Edward knew because Madam Pomfrey announced her and pointedly left the curtains open.

Hermione sat with History of Magic on her lap.

"You look terrible," she said.

"You looked like a cat last week. We all have difficult periods."

Her eyes narrowed.

Edward lifted one hand. "That was unwise."

"Very."

The anger faded faster than the worry.

"Madam Pomfrey said you will recover."

"She also said the library may not."

Hermione glanced at the incident report. "You took the book after Snape refused permission."

"Yes."

"And tried the exact thing you promised not to do."

"I promised not to go down the pipe."

She stared at him.

"That distinction sounded better in my head," Edward admitted.

Hermione looked away, but not before he saw the reluctant twitch of a smile.

She had visited on the previous days, Madam Pomfrey later told him, but only when allowed. She had fetched water once when the healer asked and otherwise sat reading. No secret nursing, no spells, no dramatic vigil. The knowledge still warmed him more than he expected.

Draco, Pansy, Daphne, Theodore, and Blaise arrived together the next morning and immediately exceeded Madam Pomfrey's preferred volume.

"What were you thinking?" Pansy demanded.

"Apparently not enough," Edward said.

Draco looked at the bandages on his forearm. "Did it at least work?"

The room went quiet.

Edward understood why the question mattered.

"No."

He flexed his fingers. They trembled slightly.

"My control is worse than before because my magic is exhausted. I learned nothing that makes the technique safer. The only clear result is that forced compression can run away from me and hurt other people."

Theodore nodded once. "Put that in the alliance record."

"I will."

There would be no story about a dangerous accident unlocking greater power. No hidden improvement purchased with scorched shelves. Edward had made a preventable mistake and survived because adults responded quickly.

That was consequence enough.

When his friends left, he looked at the Flame Mask strip on the bedside table. A narrow, supervised device whose limitations filled half a page. Beside it lay the report from an unsupervised experiment that had nearly set the library on fire.

The comparison required no theory.

Edward signed the incident report.