Chapter 20. Professor Kettleburn's New Prosthetic
"This seems… it doesn't look any different from my old one."
Professor Kettleburn stared at the prosthetic arm for a long while, but couldn't make out what was special about it.
From the outside, the new arm was indistinguishable from his former one.
For comparison, he even detached the arm he'd been wearing and set it beside the new prosthetic.
Apart from a few fewer scratches and scorch marks, he truly couldn't see any difference.
Yet Kettleburn was certain there had to be something special about this new model.
After all, Adrian had sworn up and down that he would pour all his effort into making the most perfect prosthesis possible.
Adrian noticed the professor's puzzlement and smiled, as though he had anticipated this reaction.
"Put it on and try, Professor—feel it for yourself," he said with confidence.
Kettleburn nodded, carefully picked up the new arm, and slid it over the stump of his limb.
The instant it touched his residual limb, a faint ripple of magic spread through it.
Almost the very next second, Kettleburn discovered he could control the prosthesis completely.
From the fingers to the upper arm, every nerve seemed to synchronise with the new limb.
Amazed, he lowered his head to look at the arm he had regained, raised it slowly, and splayed his fingers. It worked with almost no resistance.
This was more fluid and responsive than any magical prosthetic he had ever tried.
Seeing the growing surprise on the professor's face, Adrian's smile broadened.
"This… it's simply incredible!" Kettleburn exclaimed.
Adrian smiled again, confidence glinting in his eyes. "Professor, that's only the beginning. There's a more astonishing part."
He gestured for Kettleburn to set the new arm on the table.
With a slight lift of his brows, Kettleburn did as instructed, detaching the prosthesis and laying it sideways on the tabletop.
"What are you going to do?" he asked.
Adrian drew his wand and gave the professor a mysterious little smile.
"Bombarda!"
To Kettleburn's utter disbelief, Adrian flicked his wand and cast an Exploding Charm straight at the brand-new prosthesis.
"!"
Terror flashed across Kettleburn's face. He tried, instinctively, to intervene, but it was far too late.
"Boom—!"
With a roar, the blast sent everything on the table flying.
Kettleburn stared, dumbstruck, as his new arm—and the table beneath it—were blown clean in two.
His eyes went round as Galleons. He simply couldn't fathom why Adrian would do such a thing, destroying a freshly finished prosthesis.
"What are you—?" he asked blankly.
"Ah, I've not used Bombarda in a while," Adrian said, eyeing the bifurcated table, sounding a touch sheepish. "A bit rusty."
After a moment's mourning for the ruined table, Adrian picked up the prosthesis, now in two pieces, and handed Kettleburn the section that attached to his stump. "Try it again, Professor."
Kettleburn accepted the half-arm and, still doubtful, fitted it back onto his stump. "Will this still work?"
The socket fit as well as before, and he could move it smoothly—though lacking the forearm and hand certainly felt peculiar.
While Kettleburn was adjusting it, the half-prosthesis suddenly gave off a black-green glow.
"Hey, it's biting me!" he yelped, giving the limb a startled shake.
"Easy, Professor," Adrian soothed. "Look—it's responding."
Kettleburn looked at his arm. The black-green light on the severed prosthesis flickered faintly; he could feel something beginning to grow.
Very soon, the broken edge of the prosthesis seemed to swell and firm.
"Don't fight your magic—channel it as if you were casting," Adrian prompted.
Kettleburn nodded. He had already worked it out: this new prosthetic possessed a kind of self-repairing function.
As soon as he stopped resisting and let his magic flow, the broken end unfurled, like a shoot pushing up through soil, and began to extend.
Watching the change, Kettleburn's eyes shone with surprise and admiration.
In mere tens of seconds, his arm was whole again, though the regrown portion was a shade paler.
Of course, such swift recovery had a price. Kettleburn felt a slight throb behind his eyes—the tell-tale sign of magical overexertion.
Even so, a self-healing prosthesis left him frankly awestruck.
"You're a genius, little Adrian," he said with feeling. "I daresay I won't need to replace limbs so often any more."
Basking in the praise, Adrian narrowed his eyes in a satisfied little smile.
"I've used a special magical timber that naturally has self-repairing properties," he explained. "With a bit of processing, it makes excellent prosthetic material."
Kettleburn's eyes lit with interest. "May I see it?"
Adrian nodded and asked him to wait a moment. From a nearby cabinet he took a dark wooden rod—the offcuts he'd taken from an ebony tree—and passed it to Kettleburn.
Kettleburn examined the dark stick closely, rubbed it with his fingers, and even gave it a testing bite.
"Perfect material, little Adrian," he marvelled. "But don't you think it's a bit of a waste to use it on prosthetics?"
"Oh?" Adrian paused and looked over. If Kettleburn put it that way, he must have a notion of his own.
Kettleburn smiled. "May I take this one away? You know Little Zok is just teething—he needs a good chew-stick."
"…"
Adrian was speechless. And that wasn't a waste?
(For the record, the "Little Zok" in question was a Murtlap—a magical creature rather like an oversized rat.)
In the end, Adrian agreed.
That wood wasn't exactly rare for him; he had several ebony trees growing in his second greenhouse.
"And one more thing, Professor," Adrian added at last, "there's a point you must take special care over. The core of the prosthesis sits deep within it—if that core is damaged, its ability to regenerate will be greatly reduced, perhaps near impossible."
"Don't worry," Kettleburn said, thumping his chest. "I'll use it with care."
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