Echoes of the Healer’s Path

Quinn Moriarty had learned at a young age that magic, for all its wonders, was not omnipotent.

His father never recovered from his mother's death. A once-proud man, Alistair Moriarty became a ghost of himself, retreating into their ancestral home, shutting out the world. Their house, an old pureblood estate filled with relics of a bygone era, felt more like a mausoleum than a home. Dust gathered on books that were once cherished, and the once-roaring fireplaces were left unlit for days. The distance between them grew over the years, the silence stretching like an unbridgeable chasm. Grief festered in their home, unspoken but omnipresent.

Quinn learned to stop expecting comfort. Instead, he found purpose. He would do what those well-trained, highly regarded healers could not. He would find a way to heal wounds that magic had deemed incurable.

And now, as his fourth year at Hogwarts began, he was finally ready to take his first real step toward that goal.

 ***

The Hogwarts Express was alive with its usual chaos—first-years chattering excitedly, older students laughing and reuniting after the summer. Quinn wove through the corridors, dodging stray elbows and hastily closed compartment doors, until he found the one he was looking for.

Neville Longbottom sat by the window, his toad, Trevor, perched nervously on his lap. Across from him, Ginny Weasley leaned back, flipping through a copy of The Daily Prophet with a look of disdain.

"Mind if I join you?" Quinn asked.

Neville looked up, startled for a moment, before nodding. "Of course, Quinn. Come in."

Ginny glanced up as well, arching an eyebrow. "Moriarty," she greeted. "Didn't take you for the type to sit with us commoners."

Quinn smirked. "If I wanted to avoid Weasleys, I'd have to avoid half the school."

Ginny snorted and gestured for him to sit. "Fair enough."

He slid the door shut behind him and settled into the seat, placing his bag beside him. The train lurched forward, and outside the window, the countryside blurred past.

"You two excited for another year?" Quinn asked.

Neville hesitated. "More nervous than excited, really. What with the Tournament and all."

"The Triwizard Tournament," Ginny clarified at Quinn's questioning glance. "Dumbledore mentioned it in his letter to Mum. They're bringing it back."

Quinn frowned. He had read about the Tournament before—dangerous, unpredictable, and, most importantly, notorious for getting students killed. "That seems… irresponsible."

"Doesn't it always?" Ginny muttered. "I swear, Hogwarts is the least safe school in Britain."

Quinn didn't argue. Instead, he leaned back, contemplating what this meant. A Tournament meant injuries—severe ones. Maybe even deaths. It wasn't exactly a healer's dream, but it was an opportunity. He could observe real magical injuries up close, gain insight into different kinds of wounds, and apply his knowledge practically.

 ***

The start-of-term feast came and went, with Dumbledore's announcement stirring excitement throughout the Great Hall. But Quinn's focus remained elsewhere—on his books, on his research, on the gap in magical medicine he was determined to fill.

As the weeks passed, Quinn found himself delving deeper into his studies. He scoured the library for obscure medical texts, reading about magical illnesses and the limits of common healing spells. He experimented with minor charms to ease aches and bruises, careful never to push beyond safe limits. His knowledge was still rudimentary, but it was growing.

He took particular interest in old, nearly forgotten texts—ones that spoke of healers in past centuries who had dared to push the boundaries of magic. Many of them had been dismissed as eccentric or reckless, but Quinn found himself drawn to their defiance. St. Mungo's had its methods, but he suspected that true healing required something beyond their rigid traditions.

Despite his determination, he still struggled with finding the right direction. Theory was one thing, but real healing required experience. And that was something he didn't yet have.

One evening, as he sat hunched over a thick, worn tome in the library, a sharp voice interrupted his thoughts.

"You'll go blind if you keep glaring at the page like that."

Quinn looked up to see Hermione Granger standing across from him, arms crossed, an amused expression on her face. He hadn't even heard her approach.

"I wasn't glaring," he corrected smoothly. "Just… concentrating."

Hermione scoffed. "On what, exactly? You've been coming here more often than even I do, and that's saying something."

He hesitated before closing the book. Principles of Healing and Magical Anatomy. He wasn't ready to discuss his goal with just anyone. "Just some extra studies," he said vaguely.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, clearly unsatisfied with his answer. "Well, if you need help finding resources, I do know my way around the library."

Quinn nodded, making a mental note that if he ever needed additional research, Hermione might be a useful ally. "I'll keep that in mind."

As Hermione walked away, Quinn turned back to his book, rubbing his temple. He needed more than just books. He needed real insight.

And that meant finding a way to observe healing in action.

 ***

His first attempt at practical learning came in the form of small, unnoticed injuries. A bruised wrist from a clumsy second-year. A minor burn from a botched potion. Nothing severe, nothing that would draw attention. He helped where he could, testing simple spells and remedies, noting how different magical injuries reacted to various treatments.

But it wasn't enough.

One evening, as he returned to the Slytherin dormitory, he overheard two older students muttering near the common room fireplace.

"Bloody idiot tried casting Diffindo too close to his hand," one of them grumbled.

"Did he go to Pomfrey?" the other asked.

A scoff. "Yeah, right. He doesn't want anyone knowing how it happened."

Quinn's interest piqued. If students were avoiding the hospital wing for minor injuries, then perhaps he had found his opportunity. Quietly, he slipped away, already planning his next steps.

Healing wasn't just about books and theory. If he truly wanted to understand it, he needed to see it firsthand.

And he had a feeling that Hogwarts, with all its reckless students, was going to provide him with plenty of opportunities.