The fourth day of recovery had brought Arthus from the confines of his sickbed to the edge of the armchair by the window, though every inch of progress came at a quiet cost.
His body remained fragile, a pale silhouette against the morning light. The fine bones of his wrists and fingers stood out starkly, his once-toned frame hollowed by weeks of disuse. The robe draped loosely across his shoulders, almost too heavy for the bony structure beneath. Muscle atrophy was evident; his limbs, though no longer unresponsive, trembled with effort at even minor movement. Standing required the help of Sebastian or a firm grip on nearby furniture, each step an act of willpower, each pause a struggle against vertigo.
His hands, when they moved, did so shakily. A book, once easily held between his fingers, now slipped if he lost focus. He'd attempted to sign a document the previous evening, just his name, but the letters were unsteady, slanting with the weakness of muscles only beginning to remember their purpose.
Sensation returned in waves. Pins and needles still haunted his calves and fingertips, and at times, it felt as though his own body was distant, his feet walking a beat behind his awareness. Fine motor skills were unreliable: buttons evaded him, spoons felt too heavy, and writing was an ordeal.
Yet his eyes were clear, quiet, sharp and thoughtful. Mentally, Arthus was alert, perhaps even more focused than before. The paralysis hadn't touched his mind, but the sheer vulnerability of the past month had carved a quiet frustration into him. He hated the weight of being helped, of leaning on another. He masked it well, his voice was soft but composed, but the tension in his jaw betrayed the truth.
There was one advantage to all this though. Now he was clear on what pathway he wanted to advance on. While he was paralysed, he had many thoughts in desperation to walk on a different pathway other than the Savant pathway.
But now he was sure, he wants to drink the Savant potion as he sees it as an easy pathway to advance in. Even Emperor Roselle agreed with him. After all he would have the knowledge from his past life and he knew the acting method. He would be safe, the advancement wouldn't involve fighting, killing and endangering himself. Even if he did end up in danger, he would be more valuable alive than dead.
What he did need to take care of was the fact that he had knowledge that he had no business in knowing. He found a solution to that while he was paralysed. Even now, days after his recovery, Arthus still felt echoes of it, that heavy silence, the endless paralysis. He could move again, yes. He could walk, speak, and breathe deeply. But part of him remained somewhere else. Somewhere quieter.
He closed his eyes, and there it was again.
The mind palace.
He hadn't thought about A Level psychology in years, another life, another name, another world. Back then, it was just a class he had taken out of interest, one that hovered on the line between science and something more intimate. The Method of Loci had come up in a lesson on cognitive strategies, tucked between topics like short-term memory and eyewitness unreliability. Most students had brushed past it, just another bullet point on an exam. But it had stuck with him, even then.
Visual spatial memory. The brain's preference for place. The way you could turn a hallway or a staircase into a vessel for thought.
When the paralysis set in, when his body refused to obey and the hours bled into each other without punctuation, he had remembered it.
Not out of clarity or brilliance, but desperation.
But instead of building something new, he returned to a place that had always lived in his imagination: Hogwarts.
That was his first literary love. Before Klein, before the Grey Fog and the Fool and the horrors beneath Backlund, there had been Harry, and the castle. He'd watched all the movies and read all the books. He'd even gone as far to read fanfics. The Room of Requirement. The shifting staircases. The smell of parchment and treacle tart. It had been safe.
So he imagined it in detail, stone by stone, floor by floor. He wandered the Great Hall, tracing every floating candle. He walked the corridors of Gryffindor Tower, the passage to the kitchens, the dark forbidden corners of the library. Every time his mind threatened to spiral, every time something dark rose to the surface, he took a turn along the moving staircase.
But when he realized that not all memories belonged in the open, he descended lower.
At the very heart of the castle, beneath layers of shifting walls and forgotten classrooms, he created a hidden space.
The Chamber of Secrets.
Not the legend of it, not the serpent or the blood-stained lore, but the chamber itself, a secret place that had been locked away for years. Its walls were ancient, covered in delicate carvings that shimmered faintly in the low light. The air was thick with silence.
And here, he sealed the memories he couldn't let surface.
The ones from the year he read Lord of the Mysteries.
These things were not forgotten, but locked away.
He did not revisit the chamber.
Harry Potter had been his favorite fantasy once. His first world. His comfort.
Now it was his refuge, too.
And beneath the castle, behind the quiet stone of the Chamber of Secrets, his memories lay dormant, waiting for a time when they might be safe to open.
I will drink the Savant potion tomorrow. Although I can't brew it myself, I'll just have Sebastian do it. I should tell him about the beyonder world as well. Perhaps he should have Sebastian drink a beyonder potion too? A beyonder butler would be a hell of a butler not gonna lie. But Sebastian is too old, he might not make it.
I'll just tell everything to him and have him decide for himself. I really want to be a beyonder before the next Tarot Club meeting. I can't be the only non-beyond member. Even Audre— Miss Justice is ahead of me. How shameful.
Well it will no longer be the case! I will digest the potion quickly and leave everyone in the dust! Because I'm simply better. Because I'm 'Him'. Hehehe.
Soon it was night and Arthus slept soundly. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day after all.
…
The morning light filtered in through the tall window panes, painting pale gold across the floorboards. Sebastian entered quietly, as he always did, careful not to disturb the fragile peace that lingered after sleep. He paused beside the bed, noting the slow, steady rhythm of Arthus's breathing, then leaned in slightly and said, with the calm clarity of routine, "Morning has come, Master Arthus. It's time to wake up"
Arthus awoke slowly and took his good time.
"Sebastian… You should have gotten a package with my name, where is it?" inquired Arthus.
"I have placed it in the cellar due to the special requirements regarding certain materials. I've also hidden the letter that came with it. I was going to inform you once your condition improved a bit more but it seems you've lost your penchant for patience. Would you have me bring everything here?" asked Sebastian jokingly.
"Hehehe… I am the most patient person in this whole world I'll have you know. But even I have my limits. Yes I want you to bring everything here" replied Arthus.
Sebastian offered a slight bow, lips curled in a knowing smile. "As you wish, Master Arthus"
He turned on his heel with practiced grace, his polished shoes silent against the hardwood floor. The door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving Arthus alone with his thoughts and the rising excitement bubbling just beneath the surface of his composure.
The moment had finally come.
He stretched lazily, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. Despite the air of calm he maintained, his fingers drummed eagerly against the edge of the nightstand. Every second stretched thin with anticipation.
By the time Sebastian returned, arms laden with a wooden box, a sealed envelope tucked securely under one elbow.
Sebastian set the box down carefully atop the desk, then handed the letter to Arthus. "The instructions were clear, albeit written in rather… theatrical prose. I trust you'll want privacy for this, or would you prefer I stay to assist?"
Arthus took the letter and skimmed it quickly, eyes flickering with amusement and satisfaction. "You're staying. You're the one brewing the potion, after all"
"Potion?…" Sebastian asked unsure whether he heard Arthus correctly.
"There's something I must tell you. Something about the world hidden behind the veil you think you know. After today, you'll see it too. If you want" Arthus replied mysteriously with a smile on his face.