the inventor ➝ fantastic beasts

1926

Over a year and a half passed as Erin searched madly for the cure for death.

She went to more black markets, visited more dealers, tested on more tiny insects and bribed information out of more Dark Arts practitioners, real or not, than she could count, pushing her own limits, going further than she probably should have. She lost count of the amount of failed elixirs and draughts and potions she dumped down the drain, of the amount of ingredients she hunted down daily from the tip of a shopkeeper or dark wizard.

No matter how difficult it was, no matter how many horrible people she encountered, no matter what price they demanded, she kept going. She kept reminding herself why she was doing it - for them.  

On one of those long nights, whilst she was slumped on the floor of her apartment, recovering from a long day of hunting down lizard tongues and dragon scales, somehow, a prayer floated to her mind. 

Perhaps it was whatever she was smoking, something she'd grabbed in passing from a dealer whilst getting those extra ingredients, that brought it to her hazed mind. She hated smoking, but it was something to ease the pain, to forget it for just a while.

The prayer was for her lost ones. And something about it, whatever it was - Erin liked it.

It went something like - "I'm sorry you had to leave so soon. I love you. And I promise, if I had the chance to go back, I wouldn't let you go this time. Because it will be ready soon. I swear."

"It", was, of course, the cure.

Each night, from then on out, without fail, she would shut her eyes and whisper it to herself - to them. It wasn't long, drivelling, or particularly emotional, but it became like a comfort blanket to her. Something in her thought that if she kept repeating it for long enough, it would come true.

*

The day of the explosion was just like any other. 

Erin woke up, went to hunt down the next dealer on her list, returned home, and started brewing. She made the draught for a healing potion as usual, then started adding the new ingredients. A large spider was held in the jar, waiting to be experimented with as she chucked the lupin petals and essence of dragon breath into the cauldron, where they dissolved instantly.

A small black pipe was clenched between Erin's teeth as she mixed, a steady stream of thick smoke puffing from her mouth as she felt her head grow lighter and lighter.

It was probably the high that twisted her thoughts, and convinced her that those two ingredients would react perfectly together. She was drawn to them uncontrollably, and she forgot the dealers warning of the reaction those two ingredients would cause as she scooped them up and let them fall into the cauldron.

In the split second before it blew, Erin remembered, and her mouth fell open, the pipe slipping from her mouth. It hadn't even come close to the floor before the potion erupted.

She felt the heat and the debris fly into her face as she was hurled back by the sheer force of the blow, and her head hit the ground hard. A cry of pain escaped her lips, and she braced her arms across her face as her flat started collapsing around her.

Her world tilted on its axis as the entire building started to sag and crumble, creaking and groaning, and Erin let out a shriek as the ceiling started to cave in so quickly it was almost dissolving, the debris raining down on her. She desperately rolled out of the way as a huge chunk of the ceiling came loose, just barely dodging it before it smashed through the floor.