A/N: Thank you so much for the positive feedback. Not quite sure what else to say, so how about we just get on with this?
Oh and to Nell123, the reason she is one year ahead is my way of being different. Everyone automatically gives her birth year as 1980, they always put her into Gryffindor and she's always friends with Ron and Hermione straight away. I thought it would be nice to introduce some new Canon characters we know nothing about, but, Ron and Hermione will come into the plot in good time.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN: YOU WILL MEET A TALL DARK STRANGER
"Lay her down," came the no-nonsense order of Madam Pomfrey.
The Potions Master did as he was told and, if he was completely honest, he was glad to be rid of the burden. He had been made to carry the dead-weight all the way up to the fourth floor. He felt nothing but a numbing sensation in his arms and pins and needles in his fingertips.
The girl didn't stir at all. If they hadn't known she was still breathing, they'd have all assumed the knock had killed her.
The girl was drenched. The bathroom floor hadn't taken long to get soaked, but with all the sinks broken, what more could be expected?
The blood on her forehead had made its way down her arm by this time and the substance was flowing freely from her scalp. Surely, she hadn't hit her head that hard.
After only a minute, the pillow was almost completely red and something told the Healer that there was more to it than the troll's act.
As she lifted the girl up into a sitting position, she examined her scalp. Old wounds were being opened up. She could see the scars; the brown flakes what once were scabs. They were bleeding without restraint, staining both the girl's hair and her own robes.
The Potions Master looked at his own robes; then at his hands. He had her blood on his hands. "Petunia," he decided, in a deadly whisper that most certainly didn't go unnoticed.
The teachers had scattered, attempting to find anything to ease the amount of blood lost and the pain the poor girl was experiencing, even if she was only half-alive.
She had towels stacked up underneath her head and ice cold flannels being taken on and off her temple.
Unfortunately, there wasn't much more the teachers could to, so left Madam Pomfrey to it.
For four days, the Healer received little response from the girl, only a shudder as she had another ice pack on her head.
Sadly, however, most likely due to all the cold, she soon began shivering and the colour of her face drastically changed from white to magenta. A mixture of blood loss and ice had presented her with a fever.
Madam Pomfrey honestly didn't know what to do. As if the pestering of the girl's friends and the fever wasn't enough, the girl would cry in her sleep and scream things she hoped she'd never have to hear.
"Not, there, please! I won't do it again!"
Then she would hear a heart-rending sob and her begs for mercy.
The Headmaster had came along at one point and was greeted with a very tearful colleague. "She's delirious," she wept.
Dumbledore had then entered the Hospital Wing and approached the only occupied bed.
Fernanda would writhe with the nightmares, the bad memories and the aging Headmaster felt rather remorseful as he witnessed her terrified state.
"I should have listened to Severus ten years ago, darling girl," he whispered solemn, knowing full well that she would never be able to comprehend even a single syllable, let alone string a sentence together at this point. "He told me himself, he would have gladly taken you himself, rather than have you live with your aunt." He paused and began to pace. "I have made a great many mistakes in my time, though I'm afraid to say my decision a decade ago was one of the worst I have made."
He had left not long after that, but not before stroking her cheek tenderly with his forefinger.
People would arrive, much to the displeasure of the School Nurse, if only to give 'Get Well Soon' cards or sweets. Cho had arrived with some flowers; she knew Fern loved flowers. Nicola had brought Socks down to her as well, in the hope that he could somehow help her improve.
As he gently hopped on the bed, he immediately rubbed himself against his owner's arm, before nuzzling his nose into her neck. He would go to sleep with his paw on her hand.
Fern seemed to be in there for an eternity, even though it was only five weeks. That was unfortunate. She had missed a whole month of vital schooling all down to a troll.
One morning in early December, Madam Pomfrey sat by the girl's side, gently brushing her tangled locks.
Due to all the blood, it was a nightmare for the Healer to try and wash the girl's hair thoroughly, but she sadly had to cut it to stand a chance. Her hair had begun to really stick to her face and it could have easily become a haven for all kinds of bugs waiting to feast on the juicy substance.
She had finally managed to clean the girl's hair as best she could. However, it was a shame to the Healer that she had to remove the girl's beautiful curls in order to prevent the matter from getting worse.
Imagine her surprise then, when the following day arrived and she approached the bed to find the thick brown locks wending their way to the foot of the bed and grazing the floor.
Fern's hair had to be twice as long as it had been before it was cut, maybe more.
Two days later, the girl began to stir from her coma as her fever slowly commenced passing over.
Madam Pomfrey had fire-called the Headmaster as best he could and had considered doing the same for the girl's cousin, but it was known that he was currently on business in China and Dumbledore felt that he could really do without the worry when she consulted him.
As they stood over her bed, they both watched her return to reality, even if she was still quite out of it.
"Is this heaven?" she asked innocently. Had she been fully aware of where she was, she'd know, but the Hospital Wing was quite bright, even without the windows, though they had only added to her delusion.
Dumbledore shook his head 'no' with a small smile.
"My head hurts... It burns..." she was on the verge of tears. It didn't matter who a person was, but when they were in that much pain they cried too.
"Just rest," he told her softly. "We're only too glad you're here with us now."
"Professor?" she called, weakly, holding out her hand to him and he took it in his. "Don't leave me."
"I won't leave you, dear girl. Just close your eyes and try to go back to sleep," he spoke in a soft tone. If there was one thing she could be doing without at the moment, it was most certainly a migraine.
Slowly she drifted off into a silent slumber and he placed her hand back on the bed. "Remember, I'm with you always," he whispered, before exiting the Hospital Wing.
Night soon faded in and, with a great deal off her mind for the girl's welfare, the Healer decided to take a hard-earned break and for the first time in weeks had a decent night's sleep.
While the remainder of the castle was sleeping, however, there was one resident who was far from resting his tired eyes.
Ever-so quietly, he made his way down the long corridors.
He made doubly sure to check there was no one in his own sight before dashing into the Hospital Wing and locking the door behind him, a 'Silencio' the only word currently emitting from his larynx.
The cloaked figure made his way over to the bed where the girl lay.
"You may have escaped death this time, girlie, but I'll be back, have no fear."
Fern was up like a shot with both surprise and fear. But that didn't do much for her ailment and she fell back down on the pillow, her head throbbing with even the slightest movement.
"Who are you?" she asked, completely terrified. "Where am I?"
"You're in your worst nightmare, girl," the voice sneered. "And you needn't act so surprised, you should have seen it coming."
"What do you want with me?" Fern asked softly, attempting to keep a steady voice.
"Your life is what I want. Your fool of a mother gave hers for yours ten years ago and I will have my vengeance. You will die before the school year is out, Fernanda Potter."
The figure then cast two spells. Fern couldn't hear the first one but she soon realised she didn't need to know what the second one was, as she heard the familiar click of a lock. That sound was probably more familiar to her than anyone she knew.
The cloaked man... creature... whatever he was, then left without another word.
Then, not for the first time in her life, her confused, frightened mind willed her to cry.
Realising Socks was on her bed, she wasted no time in reaching out to him for a source of comfort. In return, he purred against her as a way of saying, "Don't worry, I'm here."