A/N: sorry for the delay guys, I had baaaaaad chickenpox and then my
computer died.... Review if you love me!
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Muggle In Our Midst
By Truly_Potter
Chapter 2
"All I can say is thank goodness you got there when you did! One minute more and this girl wouldn't have had a hope. She was entering the final stages of hypothermia when you got her to me – if not for Miss Granger's quick thinking I doubt if even I could have saved her... Oh look, she's coming round, hello dear. How are you feeling?"
I moaned and opened my eyes a little. My eyelids felt like sandpaper, and any muscle I moved protested angrily against the action. I was lying in a warm bed in a large stone hall that was soaked in a soft golden ambience cast by hundreds of candles that hung in chandeliers so artful that it seemed as though the floated in midair. Everything looked medieval, except for the man white-linened, steel-framed beds lining the walls, and the steel trolleys laden with an assortment of shiny steel implements – tweezers, scissors and whatnot. It dawned on me that I was in some sort of hospital. A matron was standing over me, closely scrutinising my every move, and again she asked me how I felt.
"Ahh heel gahg – Aaah!" My tongue sat uselessly in the bottom of my mouth like a fat, dead slug, and my lips flapped open. I had no control over my mouth. I felt panic rising in my throat, but the matron just said 'Hmmm' to herself and reached for something on one of the trolleys. My eyes opened wide and I started to frantically mumble more incoherent gibberish. I was terrified of all things associated with hospitals or doctors, especially needles, and it didn't help that I still had no idea where or who I was. However when the stern-faced woman turned around she was holding a long, slender, polished stick of wood. She said some words, to soothe me I suppose, and tapped my throat with the stick. It tingled for a bit, then she said to me, "Now, try and say something."
"Hello?" Much to my surprise I found that suddenly I could talk, and though the words didn't seem to be coming from my mouth, I wasn't about to complain.
"There now, isn't that better? I've always said that no witch is worth the wood her wand's made of unless she knows a good, strong wordless- communication spell. Now dear, could you tell me how you feel? Sharp shooting pains, I expect?"
I was thrown by the woman's ridiculous saying... witch worth her wand or something? How bizarre! I supposed it must have been some obscure little 'traditional folk saying' from whatever part of England she was from, but all these nonsense words were nonetheless beginning to disturb me a little. Coming back to reality, I looked up at the fussing woman and answered her. "Ohh... Everything hurts! And my throat feels really strange... Um, do you... do you think you could tell me where I am?"
I heard someone chuckle in a quiet, croaky voice that seemed to come from somewhere to the left of my head. I heard the sound of a chair scraping across floor, and an ancient-looking old man moved into my line of vision. He had the most incredibly long hair and beard I had ever seen - it was pure white and made it look like the man had become entangled in some monstrous cobweb. But he had warm, kind eyes that crinkled at the corners, and his smile was almost magically infectious. "I was waiting for that question. I'll take things from here, Poppy. You were found outside a few hours ago, practically dead. It is not known how you came to be here, but rest assured, whilst you reside within the walls of this castle as my guest, no further harm will come to you. My name is Albus Dumbledore. Welcome to Hogwarts."
As he said those last words, I noticed he scrutinised my face intensely. I blinked in surprise several times – Dumbledore... Hogwarts... I knew these words, though they made no sense to me. I closed my eyes tightly, trying to remember how I knew these things... Did I know this 'Dumbledore'? What on earth was going on!? I scrunched up my face even more, trying to find something that seemed just beyond the blackness in my head... Angry and frustrated, I tried to push away the tears – this was no time to get emotional.
Wiping my eyes, I looked first to the far corner of the room and then back into the concerned face above me. I told the old man... Dumbledore... that the names seemed familiar to me, but I didn't know what they meant. He sighed deeply, rubbed his own eyes, and sat on the side of the bed, pulling something from inside the extravagant-looking dressing-gown he wore.
"Sherbert lemon? No? I have always found them to be most comforting in times of stress. Well, I suppose it is better to get this out of the way sooner rather than later. Young lady, may I ask your name?"
I opened my mouth, and gasped, remembering abruptly that I could not in fact remember my name. Instead I whimpered in terror, and fought to take a breath. Dumbledore immediately called the woman he referred to as Poppy, and she said some more strange words and tapped me with the stick. I frantically gasped in a few great breaths of air once she tapped my torso a few times, and as I lay panting, I noticed Dumbledore gazing down upon me, a look of apprehension sweeping his face.
He too reached inside his clothes and pulled out a long stick, which he silently waved about my head. Curiously, it made a sort of misty light that fell on me and changed colour. He looked looked straight into my eyes and said simply, "You can't remember, can you?" I blinked at him, and he asked me, "Can you remember anything about yourself or where you came from?". Shakily, I shook my head, and for a moment I thought I saw him sag, like he just didn't have the energy to support himself. I must have imagined it though, because a second later he was smiling at me once more, though the warmth of his eyes now seemed tainted by some heavy burden.
"Don't worry. If there is one thing time has taught me, it is that all things that must happen have a reason for happening. You will recover in time. Whether or not that recovery will be the one you hope for is something I do not know, but you may remain calm in the knowledge that time reveals all to those who are patient. Since we do not know your true name, we shall simply have to give you one... May I?..." I nodded, and he muttered quietly to himself for a few minutes. "I believe... That if we are to seek the truth... Tell me, do you have any objections to the name 'Verity'? It has always been a personal favourite of mine, and seems quite suited to the circumstances, don't you think?"
I smiled. Verity. Verity. I liked it... Latin... from... veritas or something, I thought. I started to wonder at the fact that I seemed to have some knowledge of Latin, yet no idea of my real name or where I came from, but Dumbledore drew my attention once again to himself. He stood and leant over me, stroking the hair back from my forehead and smoothing it onto the pillow, a simple gesture that for some reason felt to me like the most comforting thing in the world. "Sleep now Verity," he said in a deep, soothing voice that reverberated through all my muscles, relaxing them. "Sleep now," he said, and drowsily, I allowed myself to slip away under the waves of blissful darkness that washed over me.
"Sleep now... Verity. Sleep now."
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Muggle In Our Midst
By Truly_Potter
Chapter 2
"All I can say is thank goodness you got there when you did! One minute more and this girl wouldn't have had a hope. She was entering the final stages of hypothermia when you got her to me – if not for Miss Granger's quick thinking I doubt if even I could have saved her... Oh look, she's coming round, hello dear. How are you feeling?"
I moaned and opened my eyes a little. My eyelids felt like sandpaper, and any muscle I moved protested angrily against the action. I was lying in a warm bed in a large stone hall that was soaked in a soft golden ambience cast by hundreds of candles that hung in chandeliers so artful that it seemed as though the floated in midair. Everything looked medieval, except for the man white-linened, steel-framed beds lining the walls, and the steel trolleys laden with an assortment of shiny steel implements – tweezers, scissors and whatnot. It dawned on me that I was in some sort of hospital. A matron was standing over me, closely scrutinising my every move, and again she asked me how I felt.
"Ahh heel gahg – Aaah!" My tongue sat uselessly in the bottom of my mouth like a fat, dead slug, and my lips flapped open. I had no control over my mouth. I felt panic rising in my throat, but the matron just said 'Hmmm' to herself and reached for something on one of the trolleys. My eyes opened wide and I started to frantically mumble more incoherent gibberish. I was terrified of all things associated with hospitals or doctors, especially needles, and it didn't help that I still had no idea where or who I was. However when the stern-faced woman turned around she was holding a long, slender, polished stick of wood. She said some words, to soothe me I suppose, and tapped my throat with the stick. It tingled for a bit, then she said to me, "Now, try and say something."
"Hello?" Much to my surprise I found that suddenly I could talk, and though the words didn't seem to be coming from my mouth, I wasn't about to complain.
"There now, isn't that better? I've always said that no witch is worth the wood her wand's made of unless she knows a good, strong wordless- communication spell. Now dear, could you tell me how you feel? Sharp shooting pains, I expect?"
I was thrown by the woman's ridiculous saying... witch worth her wand or something? How bizarre! I supposed it must have been some obscure little 'traditional folk saying' from whatever part of England she was from, but all these nonsense words were nonetheless beginning to disturb me a little. Coming back to reality, I looked up at the fussing woman and answered her. "Ohh... Everything hurts! And my throat feels really strange... Um, do you... do you think you could tell me where I am?"
I heard someone chuckle in a quiet, croaky voice that seemed to come from somewhere to the left of my head. I heard the sound of a chair scraping across floor, and an ancient-looking old man moved into my line of vision. He had the most incredibly long hair and beard I had ever seen - it was pure white and made it look like the man had become entangled in some monstrous cobweb. But he had warm, kind eyes that crinkled at the corners, and his smile was almost magically infectious. "I was waiting for that question. I'll take things from here, Poppy. You were found outside a few hours ago, practically dead. It is not known how you came to be here, but rest assured, whilst you reside within the walls of this castle as my guest, no further harm will come to you. My name is Albus Dumbledore. Welcome to Hogwarts."
As he said those last words, I noticed he scrutinised my face intensely. I blinked in surprise several times – Dumbledore... Hogwarts... I knew these words, though they made no sense to me. I closed my eyes tightly, trying to remember how I knew these things... Did I know this 'Dumbledore'? What on earth was going on!? I scrunched up my face even more, trying to find something that seemed just beyond the blackness in my head... Angry and frustrated, I tried to push away the tears – this was no time to get emotional.
Wiping my eyes, I looked first to the far corner of the room and then back into the concerned face above me. I told the old man... Dumbledore... that the names seemed familiar to me, but I didn't know what they meant. He sighed deeply, rubbed his own eyes, and sat on the side of the bed, pulling something from inside the extravagant-looking dressing-gown he wore.
"Sherbert lemon? No? I have always found them to be most comforting in times of stress. Well, I suppose it is better to get this out of the way sooner rather than later. Young lady, may I ask your name?"
I opened my mouth, and gasped, remembering abruptly that I could not in fact remember my name. Instead I whimpered in terror, and fought to take a breath. Dumbledore immediately called the woman he referred to as Poppy, and she said some more strange words and tapped me with the stick. I frantically gasped in a few great breaths of air once she tapped my torso a few times, and as I lay panting, I noticed Dumbledore gazing down upon me, a look of apprehension sweeping his face.
He too reached inside his clothes and pulled out a long stick, which he silently waved about my head. Curiously, it made a sort of misty light that fell on me and changed colour. He looked looked straight into my eyes and said simply, "You can't remember, can you?" I blinked at him, and he asked me, "Can you remember anything about yourself or where you came from?". Shakily, I shook my head, and for a moment I thought I saw him sag, like he just didn't have the energy to support himself. I must have imagined it though, because a second later he was smiling at me once more, though the warmth of his eyes now seemed tainted by some heavy burden.
"Don't worry. If there is one thing time has taught me, it is that all things that must happen have a reason for happening. You will recover in time. Whether or not that recovery will be the one you hope for is something I do not know, but you may remain calm in the knowledge that time reveals all to those who are patient. Since we do not know your true name, we shall simply have to give you one... May I?..." I nodded, and he muttered quietly to himself for a few minutes. "I believe... That if we are to seek the truth... Tell me, do you have any objections to the name 'Verity'? It has always been a personal favourite of mine, and seems quite suited to the circumstances, don't you think?"
I smiled. Verity. Verity. I liked it... Latin... from... veritas or something, I thought. I started to wonder at the fact that I seemed to have some knowledge of Latin, yet no idea of my real name or where I came from, but Dumbledore drew my attention once again to himself. He stood and leant over me, stroking the hair back from my forehead and smoothing it onto the pillow, a simple gesture that for some reason felt to me like the most comforting thing in the world. "Sleep now Verity," he said in a deep, soothing voice that reverberated through all my muscles, relaxing them. "Sleep now," he said, and drowsily, I allowed myself to slip away under the waves of blissful darkness that washed over me.
"Sleep now... Verity. Sleep now."