I apologise profusely to anyone who was reading this before my five-or-so
month absence. I was stuck at an emotional point that I just couldn't bring
myself to write. That is discounting the stress and depression caused by
the insane amounts of pressure put on us at school... I will try to update
more regularly, but I'm making no promises. Loud complaints might help me
get my arse in gear (
And now, on with the story!
Chapter Seven: Taking Counsel.
Inside her head, Hecate was fighting a battle with the darkness. All she wanted was to be able to wallow in blankness and read, absorbing information to fill the gaping holes in her soul and distract herself from thinking of anything else. She stared at the book she was reading, and could feel herself loosing the darkness she so craved. It was a slow progression – first she had to re-read chapters to fully understand their meaning; not long after, it was several attempts at the same page, same sentence, same word... eventually she could no longer force the blackness that came from concentrating on anything but her feelings and memories, and it faded into a depth of colour and emotion: memory and soul-encompassing sadness filled her mind and she could no longer see the pages in her lap, staring through them into her past.
When Snape found her, she had long since lost her battle. He watched uncertainly for several moments, unsure what action to take. He called softly: "Miss Aiwe?" – no reply. He tried again: "Miss... Hecate?" She sat, unresponsive, staring through her book, tears streaming down her face. She seemed lost in some thought or memory, and he wasn't sure what he should do. He removed the book from her lap, hoping that it would bring her back to the cold dungeon room. She continued to stare at the point where the book had been. Failing to elicit any response, he reached out and touched her hand. It was freezing cold, and, unnoticeable in the darkness of the room, the tips of her fingers were tinged with blue. Seeing no other option, the cruel-hearted potions master put his arms around the motionless form of the child and lifted her, carrying her close to his chest all the way to the hospital wing, and ignoring the twinges of pain in his leg at the extra burden. He was more worried about the fact that his 'burden' was almost skeletally thin beneath her robes and weighed less in his arms than a satchel of books.
Madame Pomfrey was shocked when she saw the dark shape of Professor Snape enter the hospital wing voluntarily, with a slight limp and a small bundle huddled against his chest. She was more shocked when she realised that the bundle was a small child, staring blankly past everything. Telling Snape to set the child on a bed, she administered a dreamless sleep potion before bustling around, determining that there was little wrong with the young Slytherin beyond being cold and malnourished – nothing a warm blanket and a few good meals couldn't solve.
Hecate opened her eyes to find herself in a painfully white room, with faded curtains drawn about the unfamiliar bed that she lay on. Realisation dawned on her and she jumped out of bed, a look of pure terror on her face, only to meet the fussy woman who ran the hospital wing. "Lie down, child!" Madame Pomfrey scolded. The look of terror dissolved into utter fury and she turned on the mediwitch with a scowl that sent her cowering. "How dare you!" She screamed. "You... you put me to sleep! On SAMHAIN!" Hecate then went drastically pale and muttered something that Poppy could only just catch. "Father, Loki, Artemis... forgive me." Immediately the girl fell to her knees, hands clasped in her lap as she wailed her prayers to the only gods she knew. Every funeral prayer and rite for the dead she had ever translated rolled off her tongue as her body swayed back and forth in mourning.
Madam Pomfrey stared at the girl, shocked beyond responding. It was not until at least a minute had passed that the she made the connection between the keening child and her patient and made to comfort the girl. Several minutes had passed and Madam Pomfrey had tried every comforting action she could think of, even putting her arms around the child and holding her close, but not one of her attempts to gain her attention were acknowledged. Eventually she gave up and went over to her office, throwing some powder into the fire and calling the headmaster. "Poppy?" The jovial old man asked as he stepped out of the fire. Noticing the usually composed matron looking so flustered and registering the wails filtering in from the ward he gave a quizzical look. "Is everything okay?" "Oh, Albus! I just don't know what to do! As soon as she woke up she began screaming – something about sowen and her father... and then the screams. She sounds like she's in pain but I don't understand what she's saying and she won't respond to anything I do..." The old man smiled reassuringly. "Floo Professors Snape and Togram, and I'll see what I can do." The matron quickly complied.
Soon, three professors and Madam Pomfrey were standing at the end of the bed on which Hecate knelt, still lost in prayer. "From what I recognise," Professor Togram spoke up, "She is praying for the spirits of the dead... " Snape raised an eyebrow and she huffed at him. "Well, it's a dead language, Professor! Few know it well enough to read fluently, let alone understand the incoherent wailings of a mourning child!" "Enough, Imogen. I know you care for the child as you did for her father so please don't talk like you don't. I believe that she is mourning her family so strongly as she was prevented from recognising their passing last night. It seems that spending her childhood immersed in Norse myth has caused her to believe it as truth. For her, it is very important that the dead are given the proper passing rituals on Samhain night, which she failed because she was incapacitated. I recommend that the curtains are pulled round her bed and she is left to mourn. Once she has exhausted herself, she will sleep and we can talk to her when she wakes." Madam Pomfrey did as asked, and Dumbledore placed a silencing charm on the area. "Check on her every ten minutes and call us back when she wakes." At that, the two professors followed the headmaster from the hospital wing.
*************End Chapter Seven*************
please review.
A/n: anyone who can spot the puns on Hecate's nickname and Prof. Togram's name gets a cookie!
And now, on with the story!
Chapter Seven: Taking Counsel.
Inside her head, Hecate was fighting a battle with the darkness. All she wanted was to be able to wallow in blankness and read, absorbing information to fill the gaping holes in her soul and distract herself from thinking of anything else. She stared at the book she was reading, and could feel herself loosing the darkness she so craved. It was a slow progression – first she had to re-read chapters to fully understand their meaning; not long after, it was several attempts at the same page, same sentence, same word... eventually she could no longer force the blackness that came from concentrating on anything but her feelings and memories, and it faded into a depth of colour and emotion: memory and soul-encompassing sadness filled her mind and she could no longer see the pages in her lap, staring through them into her past.
When Snape found her, she had long since lost her battle. He watched uncertainly for several moments, unsure what action to take. He called softly: "Miss Aiwe?" – no reply. He tried again: "Miss... Hecate?" She sat, unresponsive, staring through her book, tears streaming down her face. She seemed lost in some thought or memory, and he wasn't sure what he should do. He removed the book from her lap, hoping that it would bring her back to the cold dungeon room. She continued to stare at the point where the book had been. Failing to elicit any response, he reached out and touched her hand. It was freezing cold, and, unnoticeable in the darkness of the room, the tips of her fingers were tinged with blue. Seeing no other option, the cruel-hearted potions master put his arms around the motionless form of the child and lifted her, carrying her close to his chest all the way to the hospital wing, and ignoring the twinges of pain in his leg at the extra burden. He was more worried about the fact that his 'burden' was almost skeletally thin beneath her robes and weighed less in his arms than a satchel of books.
Madame Pomfrey was shocked when she saw the dark shape of Professor Snape enter the hospital wing voluntarily, with a slight limp and a small bundle huddled against his chest. She was more shocked when she realised that the bundle was a small child, staring blankly past everything. Telling Snape to set the child on a bed, she administered a dreamless sleep potion before bustling around, determining that there was little wrong with the young Slytherin beyond being cold and malnourished – nothing a warm blanket and a few good meals couldn't solve.
Hecate opened her eyes to find herself in a painfully white room, with faded curtains drawn about the unfamiliar bed that she lay on. Realisation dawned on her and she jumped out of bed, a look of pure terror on her face, only to meet the fussy woman who ran the hospital wing. "Lie down, child!" Madame Pomfrey scolded. The look of terror dissolved into utter fury and she turned on the mediwitch with a scowl that sent her cowering. "How dare you!" She screamed. "You... you put me to sleep! On SAMHAIN!" Hecate then went drastically pale and muttered something that Poppy could only just catch. "Father, Loki, Artemis... forgive me." Immediately the girl fell to her knees, hands clasped in her lap as she wailed her prayers to the only gods she knew. Every funeral prayer and rite for the dead she had ever translated rolled off her tongue as her body swayed back and forth in mourning.
Madam Pomfrey stared at the girl, shocked beyond responding. It was not until at least a minute had passed that the she made the connection between the keening child and her patient and made to comfort the girl. Several minutes had passed and Madam Pomfrey had tried every comforting action she could think of, even putting her arms around the child and holding her close, but not one of her attempts to gain her attention were acknowledged. Eventually she gave up and went over to her office, throwing some powder into the fire and calling the headmaster. "Poppy?" The jovial old man asked as he stepped out of the fire. Noticing the usually composed matron looking so flustered and registering the wails filtering in from the ward he gave a quizzical look. "Is everything okay?" "Oh, Albus! I just don't know what to do! As soon as she woke up she began screaming – something about sowen and her father... and then the screams. She sounds like she's in pain but I don't understand what she's saying and she won't respond to anything I do..." The old man smiled reassuringly. "Floo Professors Snape and Togram, and I'll see what I can do." The matron quickly complied.
Soon, three professors and Madam Pomfrey were standing at the end of the bed on which Hecate knelt, still lost in prayer. "From what I recognise," Professor Togram spoke up, "She is praying for the spirits of the dead... " Snape raised an eyebrow and she huffed at him. "Well, it's a dead language, Professor! Few know it well enough to read fluently, let alone understand the incoherent wailings of a mourning child!" "Enough, Imogen. I know you care for the child as you did for her father so please don't talk like you don't. I believe that she is mourning her family so strongly as she was prevented from recognising their passing last night. It seems that spending her childhood immersed in Norse myth has caused her to believe it as truth. For her, it is very important that the dead are given the proper passing rituals on Samhain night, which she failed because she was incapacitated. I recommend that the curtains are pulled round her bed and she is left to mourn. Once she has exhausted herself, she will sleep and we can talk to her when she wakes." Madam Pomfrey did as asked, and Dumbledore placed a silencing charm on the area. "Check on her every ten minutes and call us back when she wakes." At that, the two professors followed the headmaster from the hospital wing.
*************End Chapter Seven*************
please review.
A/n: anyone who can spot the puns on Hecate's nickname and Prof. Togram's name gets a cookie!