She woke in her new bed, feet propped up with pillows, her shoes and
jewelry removed. Proper first aid. She slid the still damp washcloth off
her forehead and blinked her eyes to clear her vision. There stood bother
Po and Dumbledore, looking slightly worried, as well as anxious. Po was
shifting back and forth on the balls of her feet.
"You!" Rebecca spat in her direction. "You!"
Poppy shrank back against the wall. "I'm sorry Rebecca."
"Sorry?" Rebecca mocked. "Sorry?! Sorry doesn't cut it this time."
"I know." Madame Pomfrey retreated even further into the safe sanctuary of the wall. But Rebecca wasn't done yet.
"How can you do that? I mean I've been writing to you all this time, and you never even bothered to mention it to me? My own daughter?" Her voice was rising. "My own flesh and blood? Did you think it wasn't important enough to tell me about? Is that it, Poppy?"
"No." Poppy felt very scared of the woman lying in the bed, and it showed. Rebecca was normally a very caring person, but when she got angry, she got angry.
"I mean, I don't think I understand what you find so unimportant about the fact that my daughter is lying there, practically dying, and you expect me to just rush in there and continue on like there is nothing wrong!"
Dumbledore stepped forward. "Dr. Jacobson, if I may point out, you were fine with all the other patients."
"I KNOW I WAS FINE!" Rebecca tried to stand up, but the blood rushing around her head made her lay back down again. "But, Headmaster, if I may be honest, I didn't know those patients. I could care for them completely in an unbiased fashion."
"Are you saying that you are biased when it comes to your daughter?"
"Yes." Rebecca took a deep breath and sat up slowly, bracing herself by holding onto the side of the mattress. "Yes headmaster, I'm afraid I am. If this were just a cut, or if she had something I could easily heal, I would be fine. Fix her right up."
"But you can't fix her up now?" Dumbledore walked all the way over and sat on her bed, prompting her to speak.
"No! The last person I helped with this disease, well, died, and I don't want to be responsible for my own daughters death!"
"It's not your fault, you did the best–"
"My best wasn't enough!"
"Dr. Jacobson, please, calm yourself. I'm sure Poppy can take care of your daughter if you handle the other patients."
Rebecca and Poppy both nodded. Poppy reached out to comfort Rebecca, but Rebecca would not return her hug, and instead sulked like a small child.
Harry heard through whispers, nods and glances that another doctor had been sent for and would stay in Hogwarts during the quarantine. Since there were so many here during the winter holiday, most of the time people sat around and talked, except for Hermione who was still studying Judaism, but had now moved onto American history.
"It's just plain eerie." Ron remarked one snowy afternoon. "It's like she's trying to become Rachel!"
"I know." Harry said, then, to change the subject, "speaking of Rachel, maybe we could go visit her and see who the doctor is."
"Yeah," Ron said, bored, "we have nothing else to do, locked up in this bloody castle."
They trekked up and over to the infirmary, or, rather, up to the sign that stated
"WHEN ENTERING THIS AREA, ONE MUST HAVE PROTECTIVE GEAR. CONTAMINATED AREA AHEAD"
Harry and Ron stood there for a few moments, until a someone walked out. They wore a robe that was entirely white, gloves, a mask and had their hair pulled up under a tight fitting white cap. Then the voice spoke.
"Yes?" the voice was muffled and was hard to make out.
Harry and Ron looked at each other, not knowing what to say. The figure undid the mask, and pulled off the cap. Harry and Ron's mouths opened.
"Rachel's mom?" Ron clapped his hand against his mouth. He hadn't meant to say it.
"Yes, Ron?" Mrs. Jacobson asked, straightening her hair a bit after she pulled off the gloves.
"N-nothing." Ron stammered. "But I should probably call you Doctor now, shouldn't I?"
"When teachers and other students are around, yes. Is there any reason you dropped by, or did you just want to see my smiling face?"
"Well," Harry admitted, "We didn't know it was going to be you."
"You didn't?" She seemed surprised. "Oh, well then. Pardon me for seeming rude, but then why ARE you here?"
"We wanted to see who, um, you, were, and we were wondering," Harry's voice dropped to a whisper, "if we could see, uh, Rachel?"
The doctor's face suddenly hardened. She refused to look at them and began wringing her hands in an agitated manner. "If you wish." She barely managed to whisper. "She would like that." Dr. Jacobson seemed unable to say her own daughters name, and pointed feebly to a closet while staring at the ground. "The gloves, caps, lab coats, it's all in there. Put them on and then you can come in. I should...get back to work." She walked away then, hands up by her face, until she had to stop, pull on the gloves and then go through the door to the infirmary.
"Well," Ron said, glancing around. "Guess we better suit up, huh?"
"Yeah." Harry felt unnerved by the whole ordeal. "Guesso." But he made no move to pull on the garments.
"Harry?"
"Yes?"
"Normally, when you need to get dressed, you go and get the clothes. I'm just suggesting..."
"Yeah." Harry waved his hand at Ron. He wasn't really listening. He was just thinking about what Dr. Jacobson had said, or not said. Body language was enough. That woman was not comfortable with the fact that her daughter was lying there and seemed almost unable to admit it.
Ron was now fully suited up, and tapping his foot. Finally, he spoke to Harry. "Hello? Earth to Harry! Don't make me shove you into that coat backwards. Believe me, I will. Don't think I won't."
"Fine. Fine." Harry pulled on the coat, then the cap, mask and gloves. The dragon hide in the cap and gloves molded to him like a second skin, and the mask fit snugly, but still let him breathe easily. He sighed and looked around, as if for a last pillar of hope to grab hold of. He was so nervous now his hands were shaking. He saw what the room in front of him did to Rachel's mother. He didn't want to know what it would do to him. But he had to go, and slowly he opened the door.
"You!" Rebecca spat in her direction. "You!"
Poppy shrank back against the wall. "I'm sorry Rebecca."
"Sorry?" Rebecca mocked. "Sorry?! Sorry doesn't cut it this time."
"I know." Madame Pomfrey retreated even further into the safe sanctuary of the wall. But Rebecca wasn't done yet.
"How can you do that? I mean I've been writing to you all this time, and you never even bothered to mention it to me? My own daughter?" Her voice was rising. "My own flesh and blood? Did you think it wasn't important enough to tell me about? Is that it, Poppy?"
"No." Poppy felt very scared of the woman lying in the bed, and it showed. Rebecca was normally a very caring person, but when she got angry, she got angry.
"I mean, I don't think I understand what you find so unimportant about the fact that my daughter is lying there, practically dying, and you expect me to just rush in there and continue on like there is nothing wrong!"
Dumbledore stepped forward. "Dr. Jacobson, if I may point out, you were fine with all the other patients."
"I KNOW I WAS FINE!" Rebecca tried to stand up, but the blood rushing around her head made her lay back down again. "But, Headmaster, if I may be honest, I didn't know those patients. I could care for them completely in an unbiased fashion."
"Are you saying that you are biased when it comes to your daughter?"
"Yes." Rebecca took a deep breath and sat up slowly, bracing herself by holding onto the side of the mattress. "Yes headmaster, I'm afraid I am. If this were just a cut, or if she had something I could easily heal, I would be fine. Fix her right up."
"But you can't fix her up now?" Dumbledore walked all the way over and sat on her bed, prompting her to speak.
"No! The last person I helped with this disease, well, died, and I don't want to be responsible for my own daughters death!"
"It's not your fault, you did the best–"
"My best wasn't enough!"
"Dr. Jacobson, please, calm yourself. I'm sure Poppy can take care of your daughter if you handle the other patients."
Rebecca and Poppy both nodded. Poppy reached out to comfort Rebecca, but Rebecca would not return her hug, and instead sulked like a small child.
Harry heard through whispers, nods and glances that another doctor had been sent for and would stay in Hogwarts during the quarantine. Since there were so many here during the winter holiday, most of the time people sat around and talked, except for Hermione who was still studying Judaism, but had now moved onto American history.
"It's just plain eerie." Ron remarked one snowy afternoon. "It's like she's trying to become Rachel!"
"I know." Harry said, then, to change the subject, "speaking of Rachel, maybe we could go visit her and see who the doctor is."
"Yeah," Ron said, bored, "we have nothing else to do, locked up in this bloody castle."
They trekked up and over to the infirmary, or, rather, up to the sign that stated
"WHEN ENTERING THIS AREA, ONE MUST HAVE PROTECTIVE GEAR. CONTAMINATED AREA AHEAD"
Harry and Ron stood there for a few moments, until a someone walked out. They wore a robe that was entirely white, gloves, a mask and had their hair pulled up under a tight fitting white cap. Then the voice spoke.
"Yes?" the voice was muffled and was hard to make out.
Harry and Ron looked at each other, not knowing what to say. The figure undid the mask, and pulled off the cap. Harry and Ron's mouths opened.
"Rachel's mom?" Ron clapped his hand against his mouth. He hadn't meant to say it.
"Yes, Ron?" Mrs. Jacobson asked, straightening her hair a bit after she pulled off the gloves.
"N-nothing." Ron stammered. "But I should probably call you Doctor now, shouldn't I?"
"When teachers and other students are around, yes. Is there any reason you dropped by, or did you just want to see my smiling face?"
"Well," Harry admitted, "We didn't know it was going to be you."
"You didn't?" She seemed surprised. "Oh, well then. Pardon me for seeming rude, but then why ARE you here?"
"We wanted to see who, um, you, were, and we were wondering," Harry's voice dropped to a whisper, "if we could see, uh, Rachel?"
The doctor's face suddenly hardened. She refused to look at them and began wringing her hands in an agitated manner. "If you wish." She barely managed to whisper. "She would like that." Dr. Jacobson seemed unable to say her own daughters name, and pointed feebly to a closet while staring at the ground. "The gloves, caps, lab coats, it's all in there. Put them on and then you can come in. I should...get back to work." She walked away then, hands up by her face, until she had to stop, pull on the gloves and then go through the door to the infirmary.
"Well," Ron said, glancing around. "Guess we better suit up, huh?"
"Yeah." Harry felt unnerved by the whole ordeal. "Guesso." But he made no move to pull on the garments.
"Harry?"
"Yes?"
"Normally, when you need to get dressed, you go and get the clothes. I'm just suggesting..."
"Yeah." Harry waved his hand at Ron. He wasn't really listening. He was just thinking about what Dr. Jacobson had said, or not said. Body language was enough. That woman was not comfortable with the fact that her daughter was lying there and seemed almost unable to admit it.
Ron was now fully suited up, and tapping his foot. Finally, he spoke to Harry. "Hello? Earth to Harry! Don't make me shove you into that coat backwards. Believe me, I will. Don't think I won't."
"Fine. Fine." Harry pulled on the coat, then the cap, mask and gloves. The dragon hide in the cap and gloves molded to him like a second skin, and the mask fit snugly, but still let him breathe easily. He sighed and looked around, as if for a last pillar of hope to grab hold of. He was so nervous now his hands were shaking. He saw what the room in front of him did to Rachel's mother. He didn't want to know what it would do to him. But he had to go, and slowly he opened the door.
