Disclaimer: I am making ZERO dollars on this – it is purely for my artistic growth. Although if it was legal to get paid to do this, maybe this would be heaven? Anyway, I want you all to know that the tracking system seems to be broken, as I have a few who have added me to their favorites in the past few days (thank you!) but my account is showing ZERO hits for the past few weeks. Zero dollars I can live with… zero reviews hurts but is tolerable. But zero hits? Now I feel like a real loser. Must be, because on I slog with the story regardless….
xoxoxo
Jena woke slowly, coming out of a recurring nightmare that she had where she needed to wake up, had to wake up, but just couldn't get her eyes open. She felt impending doom, fear, dread – like something awful was about to happen but she couldn't quite open her eyes. Finally she wrenched her eyes open with a small gasp of fear.
It was almost noon, and Austin had been sitting next to the bed. He had finished the literature study group outline, and had moved onto going though his own syllabi, outlining his study time and reviewing first chapters for his classes. He heard movement, and looked over at the young girl. Her brow was slightly creased, and her head twitched. She looked upset in her sleep. Nightmare? He reached over and gently placed his and over hers which was resting gently at her side. Her other arm was still bandaged – he wasn't' sure what all had been wrong with it, but Madam Pomfrey had said it would be nearly as good as new today. Her hand twitched, as if she was trying to draw away. And then he heard a gasp.
Jena blinked, trying to clear her vision realizing she was gazing up at a very high and very unfamiliar ceiling. As she became aware, she felt someone touching her hand, and tried to sit up abruptly, only to discover she seemed stuck in place, and that it was painful to tighten her stomach muscles. She grimaced in pain.
"Madame Pomfrey" a voice entirely too close called out as she tried to slide sideways away from the voice. If she stayed in contact with the bed, and moved slowly, she could slide just a bit.
"Kearns, uhm, Jena…" the voice sounded hesitant, but was still too close. "I don't think you should move around. You've been awful sick. Madame Pomfrey will be here in a moment."
She stopped her slow slide away and turned her head slightly, seeing the boy she had met last night. Austin, the prefect, she recalled. He had been, well, nice? She felt concern, worry, anxiety… which fed right into her own. She didn't know where she was. Who is Madam Pomfrey?
A plump woman in a starched white apron came quickly into view, waving a wand. Jena ducked her head.
"Child, be still now, while I check the diagnosis spell." she gently chided. Jena watched her movements carefully, obeying instantly. She didn't feel anything, so this woman obviously hadn't hexed her. Yet.
"Well, it's good you're awake. Are you in any pain?" Jena looked at the woman blankly. Was that a trick question of some kind?
"Does anything hurt, child?" the Matron asked again, a little more firmness in her tone. Jena shook her head.
"You tell me or Mr. Murphy here if you experience any. We have some more potions for you to take, and then I want to start you on some food. Maybe some broth our juice, and then we will let you rest again."
Jena just stared at the witch. What was happening? When were they returning her to her father? Potions? Healing potions cost galleons. A lot of galleons.
"I can't pay for potions, Ma'am. I'll be alright without them." she stated quietly, although her voice was rough with sleep, a blush heating her cheeks. She couldn't pay for the food either, but surely they wouldn't begrudge her a meal, but food cost a wizard very little…
"You don't have to worry about who is paying, Ms. Kearns, and yes, you do need the potions, and no, you won't be alright without them. Now I won't hear any more of this nonsense." the matron said sternly, laying out several small vials next to her bed.
The girl looked into the face of the matron. She could feel her agitation, aggravation, and concern. The woman was worried. Was she lying about the potions? Would this woman have to pay for them herself?
"Mr. Murphy, may I ask your assistance in lifting her up against the pillows so she can swallow more easily?"
"Of course." he said quickly getting up and approaching the side of the bed. Madame Pomfrey was now to her left, and both hovered over her. She did her best not to panic.
"Now Ms. Kearns, we are going to both link an arm behind you right at the base of your back and if you can scoot up against the pillows that would be lovely, alright dear?" the matron explained briskly, not really waiting a reply before they both stooped down. It was too much-they were too close, and too much had happened. She wanted to get away from this place, away from this woman, and out of this mess. As the woman's hand came toward her, she finally uttered one sharp yelp of fear, and pushed with all her strength away from the woman, trying desperately to go to the other side of the bed, but avoid the boy on the other side. When she realized in her movement, that he too was way too close, she suddenly ducked, trying to cover her head with both of her arms, and curl her legs up to protect her middle. However, so close out of surgery, the combination of sudden movement, trying to move her legs and bend at the same time was a poor one. Pain shot through her side lighting hot, and she voice a strangled cry, this one in not only primal fear, but agony.
"Ms. Kearns!" the little mediwitch gasped in shock, not understanding the sudden behavior of the child.
Austin saw the girls eyes go from furtive and observant to wide with fear, but was also unprepared for the resultant lunge toward freedom. However, unlike the mediwitch, his first reaction was not to step back, but to lunge in the same direction, to catch her should she try to get out of bed. In his awkwardness, he wasn't quite sure how he ended up squatting next to the bed, one arm under the girls legs, on arm behind her back, with most of her weight cradled against her chest. He felt her shaking, and could both feel and hear her quick desperate breaths.
"Jena," he murmured quietly. "It's alright. Let's get you set up so you can take your medicine, ok?" he said, repositioning her quickly as the mediwich studied the small girl intently, a scowl on her warm features. She waved her wand again.
"Well, child, you certainly didn't do that surgery site any good. You must move slowly and sit still!" the mediwitch ordered sternly. Austin quickly sat back, although the girl was shaking like a leaf. He looked up at the mediwitch in uncertainly.
"Well, Mr. Murphy, if you would be so kind as to hand her the small green potion, and then dark pink one, I will arrange a bite for the both of you with the house elves." Frowning, the mediwitch strode purposefully toward her office.
"Jena." He tried again, but the girl just rested against the pillows, her breaths coming out in shallow pants, her eyes closed. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Jena. Are you alright? Is there anything I can get you?" he asked quietly, not quite certain how he was supposed to get the young girl to voluntarily take the potions.
She opened her eyes slowly. He was still crouched next to the bed, but he was a pace further back, and concern and fear was all she felt. She shook her head.
"All right then," he said quietly, trying to gather his nerve. "Green first, right." he mumbled to himself, taking the small bottle off the table and uncorking it. Crouched down as he was, he was a head below Jena's eye level and handed it to the girl. She did not reach out for the potion, but continued to watch him a peculiar expression on her face.
"You have to take the potion, Jena." he stated quietly.
"I can't pay for it." she repeated, her cheeks flushing pink.
"Well, you heard what Madame Pomfrey said – that doesn't matter."
She studied him again and slowly reached out, hand trembling. When she made contact with the potion, Adam realized that the hand was shaking too badly to keep it steady.
"Hey, let me help," he said shifting so he could guide her hand with his. She withdrew her hand as if burned.
"Jena, what's wrong? I am only trying to help." he said bewildered.
A deep baritone sounded from the entry of the hospital wing. "Mr. Murphy, why don't you sit that potion down for a moment, and help Madame Pomfrey with lunch? I need a word with Ms. Kearns."
Mr. Murphy, clearly relieved at the dismissal scampered off as he was bid. Professor Savoy approached the bed Jena was situated in, assessing the mussed stated of the linens, and how the small bed seemed to engulf the small wisp of a child. He could see the shaking of the girl's entire body, and apprehension was written in every line of her body.
He kept his voice quiet and calm, but as neutral as possible, and made sure he was not within reach of the child.
For her part, she was terrified. This is where her punishment would be meted out. What was she thinking to sneak on the train and steal the dinner? Now, she had gotten sick, and they had paid for healers and potions. Her father was going to be so angry; it would be wonder if she was able to survive the next beating. Fear choked her throat and brought tears to her eyes, which she desperately tried to keep from falling.
"Ms Kearns. I want you to take slow, even breaths. You must calm down." he watched as the young girls eyes widened in surprise.
"You were very ill, and scared, and came to us for help. We are going to help you. But you are going to have to calm down, and trust us for a bit. That may be very hard, but I want you to try."
He surveyed the potions next to the bed. A general healing potion, he grimaced realizing it was one that Poppy brewed, and not one of the high strength ones a potion master can brew, a blood replenishing potion, and a pain potion. Unfortunately, the pain potion was the only one with sedative properties, and she couldn't take that until she had tried to eat. He fished in his robe pocket that was magically enhanced to carry a few vials of his own potions, and withdrew a vial. Checking to see that Madam Pomfrey was still scarce, lest she see the incriminating evidence of a Severus Snape potion being used, he quickly moved forward and handed the open vial to the girl.
"Jena, please take a sip of this. It will help with your breathing."
She felt confused. Nothing negative was coming off the man. Generally, she felt concern, and mild curiosity, and a bit of apprehension. She didn't want to take the potion, but she didn't want to make the man angry either, or angrier in the event he was covering up about her being in trouble. She took a small swallow of the potion and felt a warm tingling settle over her, and a quiet sereneness she had never felt before.
"That was just a calming draught, so you can think more clearly."
"Are they expensive?" she asked fearfully.
"Heavens child, I brewed it myself and I am not a potions master… I shouldn't charge you for it even if I could."
He sat there quietly, waiting with ease the number of minutes he knew the potion needed to take full effect.
"Now, I am going to assist you with the next potion. I am going to come behind your and steady your hand so you can drink it without wasting any." Professor Savoy waited to move until he saw the child glance up at him and give a brief, hesitant nod.
He moved slowly, but not so slow that the child would find it patronizing, and perched beside her on the bed. He reached out with the healing potion and waited for the small quaking hand to reach out. He kept his hand on the vial, and guided it to her lips. She took the first swallow, and he was glad that he had helped her as the bitter taste caused her to gag, almost spitting it up, but he quickly poured more potion into her mouth, urging her head back, and the child swallowed convulsively, tears coming to the corners of her eyes.
"Thank you Jena. That is not an easy potion to take. You did well." he said soothingly. He was aware that she was staring at him, speechless. Obviously she wasn't used to praise. He conjured a glass of cool water with his wand.
"This is just plain water. Let's have you take a few sips to get that last potion down before we try the blood replenisher."
He saw her eyes widen in surprise, and quickly look down at her hands. He kept the water held out to her, though, maintaining the position until she hesitantly reached up for the glass again. Her hands were still shaking, but much less prominently. The calming draught helped. He helped her with a few slow sips, be sure to keep his face completely neutral, and his breathing even. He sensed that any impatience from him and the child would not accept his presence in close proximity.
"Enough?" he asked, after she had taken several sips. She nodded once, swallowing hard again, and he helped her with the final potion as Austin returned to the bedside. The girl tensed. Professor Savoy slowly moved away, to sit in the straight backed chair next to the side of the bed.
"Mr. Murphy, why don't you pull up a chair on this side," he said, indicating next to himself. He knew form his time as a Death Eater that victims of violence did not like to watch two fronts. By positioning both of them on a single side, he would be saving her the trouble of keeping track of both.
"Now Ms. Kearns," he said, once the prefect had settled himself "we will speak a few minutes while we waiting on your meal, and then leave you to rest. I will have a few questions, and want you to answer them honestly, and will answer any questions you have at the end." he waited until she acknowledged his words with a nod before he continued.
"First, I want you to know that I have secured a scholarship for you to stay at Hogwarts. It is a working scholarship. You will be apprenticed to me essentially. I will be responsible for your well being and assigning tasks that will help you earn your keep. As I am responsible for you, but also have many other responsibilities, I have asked Mr. Murphy's assistance, and he has agreed. He will hold everything that we discuss in the strictest confidence. If you should require assistance of any kind and I am not immediately available, you are to seek Mr. Murphy immediately. Do you understand?" he asked, watching as the girl studied him furtively through lowered lashes.
Again, he waited patiently as the child gave him a furtive nod.
"Very well. You stated your father hurt you just before you collapsed. Can you tell me what happened?"
She glanced up suddenly. Her head felt stuffy, like she had a cold, but instead of it being full of congestion, it was full of warm fuzz. She could sense calm from the man, and curiosity, but nothing more. No one's feelings were every that simple. And Austin – she could sense his unease; well, it was certainly written all over his face too, but nothing more. Her head hurt, and she was suddenly realized how very tired she was. What was she to say? How could she answer these questions? Scholarship – what was that? What would they have her do to earn her keep? She shivered slightly. The distant past where such things meant horrible torment filled her mind.
"Ms. Kearns?" Professor Savoy tried again. "Can you answer the question?"
Her gaze dropped down to her hands. "I don't understand sir," she replied, her voice barely over a whisper.
Professor Savoy studied the girl. She was obviously afraid, but what he had said was fairly simple. Perhaps he needed to take things a bit more slowly with the child? He just barely held back a huff of impatience.
"You are safe, Ms. Kearns." He watched as grey eyes, glassy with pain and fatigue met his, disbelief and wariness clearly visible.
"I went to your home, and met Mr. Kearns. I understand that your family does not have the means to pay for school, and you are in need of an education. Since we are unsure of your academic standing or merit, it must be a working scholarship. A scholarship is where the school pays for your education in exchange for its own benefit, such as the prestige of educating an exceptional scholar who will go on and make a name for the school, or perhaps perform a service at a later date should you show promise. Would you care to enter into such an agreement?" he asked softly.
He noticed her wariness did not lessen, and something dark and wary flashed into eyes – a haunted look much too old for such a small child.
"What services were you thinking I could provide you, sir?" she asked, her words coming out carefully, measured and slow.
"Not to me, per se, but the school. Perhaps cleaning or organizing, or assisting professors with various chores. As you get older, and your skills come to light, you may be apprenticed to a teacher to pay back tuition, or may receive a stipend and be sent to work for the Ministry of Magic." He explained quietly.
Relief was evident in the child's face, but so was fatigue, and something he couldn't quite make out.
"Alright sir, I… I think I would like that." she replied carefully, her eyes seeking her hands once again.
"Now, we have to notify Wizarding Family Services of your injuries. It might be easier for you to tell me about them first; sometimes, the report from the teacher is enough for their entire investigation." He watched as the child continued to stare at her hands. "Are you willing to answer a few questions?"
"Yes sir." she replied, whisper barely audible in the echoing ward.
"Your father, you said that he kicked you?" he prodded gently.
A nod. "A verbal answer if you will."
"Yes sir."
"Please tell me what happened." He asked, keeping his tone soft, almost pleading. He cringed. Was this really him talking to the girl? Where did that come from? Why should he want to help her?
She cleared her throat. Where to begin? She was uncertain of what he was asking. Why would it mattered what happened?
"I didn't stoke the fire up." she replied quietly. Professor Savoy rolled his eyes in exasperation.
"Jena," he said, a bit more firmly, "start at the beginning. What were you doing?"
"When he kicked me?" she asked, confusion clearly written on her face. The Professor stifled a sigh. What was he to do with the girl? She actually didn't seem to realize that the worthless drunk that she was spawned from was at fault here.
"Start with that day. What did you do that day?" he probed, trying to get her talking more, "And I would appreciate it if you would look at me when we are talking.
The girl drew in a deep breath and her eyes reached his, flicked over to the prefect and looked at him again.
"I got up at my usual time, it was Friday, and did my chores. Friday is laundry day and I change the bed clothes, and weed the garden." she replied quietly.
"So after your chores, what did you do?" Professor Savoy prompted. He watched as her eyes furrowed in more confusion.
"I guess I didn't do anything, sir." came the hesitant reply.
"For how long did you do absolutely nothing?" asked the professor, not managing to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
"I am not sure," she replied, "but he came home that evening, and he is always cross when he first comes home, so I just try to stay out of sight, mostly, and then he fell asleep in the living room. So I had to be quiet and try not to wake him, so I lay down in my nook. I must have drifted off – I didn't mean to, Professor, really." She replied, anxiety clear in her young voice.
"Jena, was it dark when he came home?" he asked quietly.
"Yes sir, just."
"And you did chores from the time you got up until then, and nothing else?" he asked, watching her brow furrow once again in confusion.
"Yes sir."
"Jena, is it light out when you get up?"
"Sometimes. Sometimes it's just after day break."
"So you were both sleeping, then what happened?"
"Well, I am not sure. I was woken by him stumbling, he said something about me not having stoked the fire," the professor was dismayed as he watched the girls cheeks color at this statement; she actually seemed to be embarrassed, as if it was some sin to not stoke a fire, "and then he came out in the kitchen. He didn't' want to reach down I don't think, for fear of losing is balance, so he just kicked into my nook a few times. One of the kicks connected really hard. It hurt worse than it has before. I guess it was just a freak shot…" the girl said, returning her Professor's gaze uncertainly.
"So, does this happen frequently?" he asked watching the prefect out of the corner of his eye. He was impressed to see that the boy was maintaining and outward façade of calm; the only way giving away the boys ire was the iron grip he had on the arms of his chair.
"No sir. I almost always remember to stoke the fire. I didn't Friday because I didn't want to wake him and make him angry." she replied, her eyes finding her hands once again.
"I see. Does your father punish you often for things you forget?"
"I don't forget many things, sir. Honest," pale grey eyes met his again with something akin to panic. "I will work hard sir, if you let me stay."
"Of that I have no doubt. I was just wondering though, how often does your father strike you, either kicking or hitting?"
"Not all that often sir."
"Once a week?"
"Well… uh, if you count slaps and just pushing, I guess that often, maybe twice a week?" she replied, obviously not distressed by her answer.
"And this does not upset you?" he asked, his voice staying neutral.
She was getting very nervous about the questions. Was he regretting her scholarship? Would he send her back to her father, and demand payment for the treatment of her injuries? She knew she was worthless; she just wished there was something she could do about that. If she could learn something useful, maybe she could become useful to someone. How she wanted to say at the school!
Professor Savoy watched as a myriad of emotions passed over the girl's face, but the most prominent was confusion.
"I try hard not to deserve it sir. I promise I am a hard worker." she replied, hoping her sincerity bled through. Her head was starting to ache, and she still could only sense curiosity and a growing irritation from the man, other than that it was flat. She felt apprehension from the prefect, but nothing else. She started to tremble slightly. Why couldn't she feel anything right?
"Jena. Try to remember the last time you were punished. What was it for?" Professor Savoy asked.
"Professor, I don't understand." she said, her voice strained, her grey eyes looking searchingly at him.
"What is it you don't understand?" he asked, confusion clearly in his voice.
"I already told you I will work hard for you. I will do better than I did there. I promise." she explained, earnestness and fatigue battling for dominance in her young voice.
"Jena, listen to me. I need to find out what your father did because it was wrong. You might not believe me now, but no child deserves to be kicked or punched by their guardian, ever - even if you did something very, very wrong. Some people think that corporal punishment, such as spanking, is ok, so long as it leaves no injury. But some people don't believe even that. It is never ok to deliberately injure a child for any reason. What your father did is wrong Jena. I need you to tell me what he did so that I can help make sure he doesn't do it to you again."
Jena had looked at him startled, gray eyes piercing, confusion, fear and distrust clearly written on her face.
"I know you don't believe me now. But you need to learn to trust me. I am your head of house and I will do what it takes to keep you safe." he continued quietly, watching her carefully.
Madam Pomfrey entered then, bringing with her a little elf, hovering a few trays.
"Lunch. Most of these potions will be more effective with a little food in your stomach, she said cheerily, breaking up the intensity, but coming too quickly at the girl, who startled. The prefect glanced expression incredulous at his head of house. How could the Matron miss how much she was upsetting the young girl?
"Madam Pomfrey is most protective of her charges," Professor Savoy explained at the nervous girl whose face went completely blank as a tray holding a thin porridge, milk, juice and a bit of toast was arranged in her lap. "She knows that everyone knows she is here to seem them well, and has the very best of intentions. Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Murphy?"
"Of course professor." he said, quickly catching on to his professor's tack, and taking up a tray of his own.
"Jena, we will talk more after you have rested. Please, be thinking about your life, and how to describe it. Don't think I am looking for something you did wrong. I just need to know about how you live. Nothing you can say will make a difference; you will still go to school here. Do you understand?"
The child's eyes maintained their fix on the mediwitch, who bustled about the bed, getting her meal situated and fixing her covers. The breath of relief the girl exhaled when the Matron was finally satisfied was almost enough to make the Professor laugh, if the situation wasn't so dire. He didn't know what further surprises lay ahead with his young charge, but he certainly couldn't be certain they were all over. In fact, he had to shake off the hopeless feeling that the surprises had truly yet to begin. He kept his face studiously blank even as a sense of foreboding slithered down his spine.