The rest of Jonathan Grimsby's weekend was spent alternating between playing with his son and going over his case files. He had done a lot of research since the incident but now that there had been a judgment, he thought it best to go over the information pertinent to the next steps.

If Grimsby had to oversee the sentencing, he would memorise the procedure and ensure it was carried out above board. After all, it hadn't been used in over a century, so no living witch or wizard had performed it. Grimsby made a mental note that if this became a problem, there might be grounds for an appeal.

When Monday arrived, Grimsby reluctantly got ready for work and bade his wife and son goodbye. He left via the front door in lieu of the fireplace. Inside the front porch, still safe from prying eyes but outside of the house's security spell, he turned on the spot and Apparated to one of the many designated safe zones in London. This one was an alleyway unnoticed by Muggles, adorned with rather smelly rubbish bins.

He crossed the road at the end of the alley and stopped at a nearby newsstand to review the Muggle newspaper headlines. They too had revealed the list of victims but had reported the cause of the incident as a gas explosion, as Grimsby had predicted. In addition, the Muggles would be holding a vigil for the victims that evening. He made a mental note to attend, feeling that he owed Ms Drake that much.

Britain's largest wizarding hospital was disguised as a condemned, red-bricked department store called Purge & Dowse Ltd. Grimsby arrived and quietly gave his name to the worst-dressed mannequin behind the dirty display window. Then, when it waved a finger, he walked straight through the glass to find himself in St Mungo's busy reception.

The bored-looking Welcome Witch surveyed him from a desk beyond the seated waiting area and seemed to perk up. Grimsby made his way towards her, careful to avoid staring at some of the stranger afflictions that had befallen the occupants of the seats, and careful to avoid a large purple puddle, the origins of which he did not care to learn.

'Can I be of assistance?' the witch asked in a come-hither voice.

'I hope so,' he replied. He used his wand to project his magical ID, a glowing Ministry of Magic logo with an image of his face and name, and announced himself, 'I'm here on official Ministry business, Jonathan Grimsby, Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I believe you're expecting me?'

'Mr Grimsby?' called a voice from behind him. A short but stern-looking woman with cropped, grey hair quickly approached the reception desk. Her lime-green Healer's robes flowed behind her while a pair of gold-rimmed glasses swung rapidly from her neck on a matching chain.

The Welcome Witch returned to her seat looking quite perturbed. The Healer offered Grimsby a handshake and greeting, 'Welcome, I'm Senior Healer Dandridge. If you would follow me, please.'

He strode after the Healer, into the lift across the hall. Grimsby had vaguely wondered what floor they would be heading to. He was surprised when the Healer pointed her wand, rather than a finger, to the control panel, and a hidden button marked "B" appeared, which she then pushed. "B" apparently stood for "Basement", as the lift started moving downward.

The Healer noticed his mild surprise and informed him, 'The restricted floor. It's a secure area for managing and treating difficult or dangerous cases such as untamed magical creatures, and criminals. It also houses the Ritual Spell Theatre.'

Her explanation made some sense, but it also irked Grimsby. A baby, in the basement, with the criminals, he thought to himself in disbelief before remembering why that was.

As they exited the lift, he noticed that the basement looked just like what he remembered of the other floors of the hospital, except it was devoid of people and the walls were clear of any notices or posters. There was also an ominous-looking corridor to the left with a heavy set of double doors and a guard.

The Healer led him to the right. Grimsby began to realize they were heading in the direction of an intermittent noise that grew louder as they approached. They made a turn and arrived at a room housing the source of the noise. Two guards stood outside the room while inside, a baby cried alone in a cot.

'What is this?' demanded Grimsby. 'Why isn't he being attended to?'

Dandridge picked up a chart from a wall hanging and replied, 'The guards are only here for security. We've been instructed not to enter except on regular intervals, and the record does show that the patient was seen under an hour ago.'

Grimsby was still vexed, 'So, the rest of the time, he's just left here on his own and ignored?'

The Healer did not reply, so Grimsby used his wand to flash his magical badge at the guards. They waved their own wands over the doorless entrance to the baby's room, and a two-tiered magical barrier became visible for a moment before dissolving into the air.

Grimsby entered with Dandridge. He watched her assess the baby with a glowing green light from her wand and then she muttered some words under her breath before telling him, 'Just needed a change.'

He then picked up the baby and cradled it in his arms. One of the guards approached as if to object to this contact but seemed to think better of it after a glare from Grimsby.

After bouncing baby Gideon for a few minutes, his cries gradually diminished, and he nodded off. Grimsby realised his anger had to be partly prompted by thoughts of his own baby boy, and hoped someone would do the same for him if circumstances were different.

Grimsby made another mental note, this time to review policy on this matter. He suspected there wasn't anything specifically related to unaccompanied minors. After all, they were in uncharted territory here.

The Healer's stern expression had softened, as had her tone, 'I apologise if I was curt with you before, Mr Grimsby. It was short-sighted of me to assume the person overseeing the procedure would be a typical Ministry lackey. I suspect we find ourselves in similar situations. If you ask me, this business sullies the healing profession. However, only a Healer would have the skills necessary to perform the procedure, and I volunteered to ensure that mistakes can be avoided, if possible.'

Grimsby had calmed down now. He found Dandridge's words and confidence reassuring but he also lost any hope of being able to file an appeal. He admonished himself for even thinking that was an option given what a mistake could mean when such intricate magic was involved.

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Another Healer arrived at the entrance. She kept her distance and announced, 'The Theatre has been prepared, Sister.'

She departed and Dandridge gestured for Grimsby to return the baby to the cot. He did so and followed her out. The guards recast barrier spells with their wands but this time directly on the cot like a bubble. They then proceeded to levitate it out of the room and down the hall towards the lift.

Grimsby and Dandridge followed them to the lift area and then onward, through the now-open heavy doors, which were promptly closed behind them by its guard. Grimsby peered into the windows of the rooms they passed. He saw some interesting healing magic at work and even caught a glimpse of what he thought sure was a dragon before a bright flash caused him to avert his eyes.

At the very end of the corridor, was the Ritual Spell Theatre. It was different from the other rooms he had seen or any of those on the floors above. Its torch-lit stone walls resembled those of a dungeon, but the floor appeared to be smooth and metallic.

Grimsby was directed to the right-hand side, where the stone wall jutted out into tiered levels. He surmised that this was an observation area and took a seat on the third level. From that height, he could just about see into the cot in the middle of the room. That didn't matter, though, as the cot was suddenly dismantled, leaving only baby Gideon floating in the centre of the room, above a large circular marking on the floor.

Grimsby was feeling very ill at ease. He found himself unable to recall his research. Instead, his focus was on the baby's welfare. His concern was alleviated some by Senior Healer Dandridge announcing, 'We will now begin the procedure. Vocal detail will be used where possible for the benefit of our observer.'

The guards erected their barriers once more, this time a large wall around the Healers and themselves. Only Grimsby was outside of the magical field. He noticed the guards had opted for a more defensive stance before they nodded to Dandridge, and she began, 'First, the sterilisation field.'

One of the other Healers performed this spell while the second performed the assessment magic Grimsby had seen Dandridge use earlier, presumably to monitor the baby's vitals.

'Now I will sedate the patient', Dandridge explained as she gently flicked her wand in the baby's direction. He was then lowered to the floor inside the large circle while Dandridge stood just outside of it. 'And now the ritual incantations will begin,' said Dandridge. With this, Grimsby observed her muttering under her breath and waving her wand in continuous, unfamiliar patterns.

Not before long, tiny lights began to emerge on the floor over the circle. This went on for some time and the lights became larger in number and size. Grimsby was transfixed until the lights began to join up and he finally recalled what this part of the procedure was about.

Ritual magic like this was old magic and often required the use of magic circles. The circle on the floor was merely a template to aid the caster in the placement of runes, which is what the tiny lights were. The pattern began to take shape after half an hour or so. Grimsby was impressed by the skill and fortitude of the Healer. She appeared to be in her sixties but had been casting non-stop.

After about forty-five minutes, the pattern started to come together. Dandridge finally paused, then more audibly than before, uttered some incantations unknown to Grimsby. Then, with one word, the pattern began to increase in brightness. The next caused a surge of light to make its way clockwise around the fully formed magic circle until it caught up with itself and unleashed a flash brighter than anything Grimsby had seen up to that point.

The circle then dimmed slowly. Apparently, this meant it was complete because Dandridge visibly took a breath, and the first Healer came to her aid with a cloth to dab her forehead and a goblet of water for her to drink from. Grimsby realized he was somewhat breathless as well.

After just a minute or so, Dandridge said, 'The magic circle has been completed successfully. We will now proceed with The Weaving.'

Grimsby remembered that this was when the patient was to be imbued with the magic. It was the most delicate part of the ritual—and the most dangerous. However, if done correctly, it would not take as long as the magic circle's construction.

Dandridge looked to the second Healer for approval of the baby's condition before beginning. Then, she stepped up to the circle and held her wand over him while her assistant walked around it, stopping at intermittent points to create blue orbs of light that hovered over the runes.

After ten orbs had been placed equidistant from each other, she uttered a spell and swept her wand sideways. The orbs landed softly on the runes one after the other and appeared to sink into them, leaving ripples across the magic circle like pebbles breaking the surface of a pond.

Dandridge started a fast-paced chant and suddenly the brightness of the circle returned. The runes began to move like ants scurrying in unison, first as one around in a circle, and then they all closed in at once towards the baby.

Grimsby had one arm around his middle, but the other had worked its way up to his face and he now found himself watching the scene through his fingers. Any lingering doubts he had about whether this was a just sentence had disappeared. He had never seen magic like this. It just looked so wrong. Felt so wrong. He couldn't help but imagine his son on the cold metal floor inside the magical circle.

The runes reached the infant and began to move from the ground and crawl over his skin, swirling at the command of Dandridge's wand and flashing at the urging of her chant. Eventually, the runes covered him entirely before turning black as night. Grimsby's eyes moved to the Healer monitoring Gideon's condition. The green light of her wand had turned orange and seemed to be steadily darkening.

One last word from Dandridge triggered a whirlpool of blackness until all of it shrank down into one swirling point in the centre of the baby's chest. The assistant Healer's wand light suddenly turned red, and a wave of energy was released, powerful enough to make those inside the field stumble backwards and cover their faces. The barriers visibly shuddered, and the room's torches flickered in unison.

The guards moved in with their wands raised, and Grimsby got to his feet, convinced that something had gone horribly wrong. Dandridge raised a hand, the guards halted, and everyone turned to the assistant Healer. They saw that her wand light was green again and Dandridge moved to the baby's side. She waved her wand over him several times, examined his body, then stood and announced, 'It is done.'

The guards removed their barriers, and the assistant Healers summoned the dismantled cot parts from the other side of the room, reassembled it and placed the baby inside.

Grimsby headed down towards the cot. He looked in and saw that Gideon appeared to be quite calm, certainly calmer than he was. He quickly drew back the hand he had rested on the cot, feeling foolish, and addressed the guards, 'Sorry, do you need to re-cast the barriers?'

'No need for that anymore, Sir,' one of them replied before they both left the room.

'So, everything went okay?' Grimsby asked the Healers.

Healer Dandridge tiredly confirmed, 'Yes. No complications. High blood pressure but he'll recover. Under different circumstances, I would consider it quite the achievement, but, well, you know...'

One of the assistant Healers spoke up, 'Yes, Sister, the first successful binding in over a century, a flawless one at that! If it weren't for all the secrecy, you'd surely make it into the journals.'

Dandridge's grim expression changed ever so slightly to one of mild embarrassment, and she replied, 'Yes, well, that's neither here nor there. Besides, I'm not sure we can call it "flawless" just yet. This type of magic always leaves marks.'

'How do you mean?' Grimsby worried. 'Is there a scar? Or some kind of curse mark? I've read about that possibility, but I didn't notice anything.'

Dandridge observed the baby sympathetically and answered, 'Not quite. We can't be sure of the long-term side effects but in the meantime... Well, it looks like he's coming around, so you can see for yourself.'

Grimsby watched the baby boy fuss, scouring his tiny body for marks until his eyes slowly opened and returned the man’s gaze. One green. One blue.