Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I am not JK Rowling. The following story was written for entertainment purposes only.
"Ben," Aradia called out in the darkness surrounding her. She couldn't see but a foot in front of her but somewhere close was her husband. She could hear him scream like on the day he died. "Ben!" she called louder running to the source of the scream. He had to be somewhere close and she would save him. She would bring him back. "Ben!" Lightning struck the ground ahead of her path. It was unnatural, a shade of neon green that wasn't like anything she had ever experienced. For a split second, she could see in the daylight produced by the flash. A strange figure stood on the far side of the darkness and next to him was another person, lying on the ground limply. "Ben, I'm coming!" As the darkness swallowed the scene, she ran towards the figure on the ground. Then, the lightning struck again.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Aradia opened her eyes. She was staring at a white ceiling with what looked to be bubbles floating close to the center. The bubbles were providing light for the room, whatever room this was. She wasn't in her kitchen any longer. From what she could gather, she was in a bed that was definitely not her own, wearing a nightdress similar to the usual hospital garb. A hospital, that's what it was. But how she had arrived here was a mystery. No one would ever think to save the madwoman who supposedly killed her husband.
In an attempt to sit up, she pushed her body forward with the force of her arms against the bed. "Argh!" A severe jolt of pain hit her spine giving evidence as to why she was in a hospital. Her body fell to the bed in defeat of the injuries preventing her to move.
"Are you alright?" Someone else was in the room. It was a man with a British accent in a location that Aradia currently could not see.
"That's a stupid question. Would I be in the hospital if I was alright?" she answered defiantly. If anything, she was disgruntled by the sudden disorienting change in her surroundings.
Nearby, a muffled laugh could be heard. "Well, I suppose that's true. You did have quite an accident."
Aradia turned her head from side to side and examined the room that was in her eye's view. It was at least more interesting then the ceiling. This only caused her to have more questions, however. None of the average hospital apparatuses were in sight. No heart monitor, no IV, no technical equipment of any kind. The bed even lacked the easy to reach, modern call button.
The echoing sound of footsteps hitting the hard floor approached her bed. As the figure came into her line of vision, she realized it was a stranger that was most definitely not a doctor. He wore jeans and a bright green sweater that matched his vivid green eyes covered by complimenting, wire rim glasses. His hair was dark, short, and rather wild in appearance contrasting greatly with his calm demeanor. He was probably around her own age, maybe twenty-six or seven, yet his face was worn and tired like one much older then he obviously was. Stubble jutted out of his chin as though he hadn't shaved in a few days. Somehow, Aradia thought he looked familiar but she didn't know why.
"My name's Harry, by the way." The British stranger sat down in a chair adjacent to the bed.
"I'm Aradia." For a moment, there was silence between them. She stared at him with discerning eyes looking for a hint of what brought him to her hospital room. He was apparently staring back probably within his own form of analysis. Their locked eyes were broken, however, when Harry turned to his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper and a feather. He then began to write with the feather, something Aradia had only seen in movies. Before she could come to a logical reason behind his feather use, Harry looked back in her direction.
"Alright, sorry I have to do this while you're in , but the ministry has been bugging me about it for the past two days. So, I have just a few questions for you." Neither understanding who the ministry was nor why they would want to ask her questions, Aradia simply nodded her head. Stranger things had happened to her, after all.
"My first question is....how did you receive the scar on your forehead?" With that, her complacent expression of dumbfoundedness turned to one of pure annoyance. "I would rather not talk about it," she retorted rather abruptly.
Harry glanced up from his paper and quickly added, "I'm sorry if I offended you. I completely understand if you don't want to answer any of these questions. But, I have to do this as it's part of my job. So, the next question. Do you remember anything before your fall from the sky?"
Her eyes bulged out in shock at this new revelation. "My...my what?"
"I guess that's a no. You see, you fell probably around, oh, fifteen meters. It was really touch and go after that. We were afraid you wouldn't make it."
Before any more questions could be asked, the door of her room swung open admitting a new person. . "Hello miss. Good to see you've regained consciousness. I'm your healer, Atticus Janson. So, how do you feel this morning?" Yet another person with a British accent, and this one wore what appeared to be robes in a very loud shade of lime green and carried a clipboard.
"I...I'm fine. Well, my back hurts, but other then that I'm OK."
"That's good to hear. Now, the pain in your back will subside over the next two days. We gave you a strong bone mending potion that will reconnect all the shattered fragments in your back as well as your left leg and arm. Your injuries were quite extensive." Atticus placed his hand in a slit near the side of his robes. He pulled out a flask of white liquid similar in form to Elmer's glue. "I want you to take another dose of the potion now."
Taking a glass from bedside table, he uncorked the flask and proceeded to pour the glue-like substance into the glass. "Here, take this and I will see you in a few hours." Aradia was wary of taking the glass from the so-called healer, especially with his use of the term potion and his choice of attire. She complied, however, reluctantly taking it and watched Atticus immediately leave the room. Instead of drinking the questionable potion, she carefully set it down on the bedside table. As her hand left the table, she heard the murmur of a voice behind her and suddenly the once motionless glass was zooming over her, an inch away from her face. She followed its path with her eyes finally watching its perfect landing into Harry's awaiting hands.
"You really should drink this. It will make you feel better." Harry commented while holding the glass out for her taking.
"How...did you do that?"
"Do what?" he asked, nudging the glass into her hand.
"Move the glass from the table, over there," first gesturing to the table she continued, "to the other side of the bed....over there." It was truly amazing. She had seen magicians levitate women into the air before but that was simply illusion. This didn't look like an illusion. She accepted the glass into her hand, though she was still unsure if she was actually going to drink it.
Harry, however, wouldn't let go and now appeared to be the one in bafflement.
"Well, I knew you were American but I didn't expect you to be...a muggle."
Aradia freed the potion from his grasp and answered, "Sure, if you want to
call it that." The only time she had ever heard this term used, or rather read this term, was in a book. She was in the midst of processing all the information she had gathered in a way that made sense with the real world, when Harry asked another question. "What do you remember before you, well, woke up in the hospital."
Lifting the glass to her lips, she downed the putrid substance in one large gulp. It tasted like glue which she now thought to be a very good possibility since it was technically gluing her bones together. There was no noticeable effect after drinking the potion, but on the bright side she wasn't dead...yet. "I was cooking...in my kitchen." As an afterthought she added, "in Florida."
"Really? You must have apparated to London then," he muttered while writing swift notes on his paper.
The empty glass slipped from her hand and with a crash fell to the floor. "London? I'm in London?" Her response had no affect on Harry whatsoever. He continued to write as though flying glasses, traveling across the world, and drinking Elmer's glue was perfectly normal. But to Aradia, this was complete fantasy. She couldn't decide if it was a dream, a very elaborate joke, or if she had lost her mind. All of these theories currently seemed feasible.
"Yes, you're in London. Reparo." Harry pointed a long, pointed stick towards the broken glass which instantly repaired itself and landed with a soft thud on the bed. She was most certainly dreaming, though up to now this was the most realistic dream she had ever experienced. It must have been induced by her severe migraine in the kitchen. Yes, that had to be it. Otherwise, she wouldn't be talking to Harry...Harry Potter? A sudden epiphany was revealed to her. She was talking to Harry Potter, in a dream, but still.
"What hospital is this?" Aradia asked in an effort to confirm her assessment. The door, that had previously interrupted her inquisitiveness, creaked open again. This time, a tall, balding man with red hair and a short, pudgy woman also with red haired entered.
"Hi Harry. We came as soon as we heard," the man said while giving a friendly wave across the room. The woman, who was carrying a pile of different colored clothes, walked over to the bed and looked down on Aradia with shear, motherly concern.
Harry stood and gestured to the couple while giving the usual introductions. "Aradia, this is Arthur and Molly Weasley. They're long time friends of mine and I work with Arthur at the ministry."
"Nice to meet you dear," Molly said while setting down her arm full. "I assumed you would be needing a change of clothes so I brought you a few robes."
"Thank you. It's nice to meet you too." The story of Harry Potter was flooding her mind as she listened to the Weasleys and Harry converse. They went on to talk about her situation. How Harry, George, and Fred witnessed her fall from a blue cloud-like hole in the sky around Diagon Alley, how they had taken her to St. Mungo's, and in a more whispered tone obviously not meant for her to hear, how Harry had deduced she was a muggle. As the conversation wore on, Aradia began to drift into a deep sleep. Her body felt rather numb possibly caused by the potion, or more logically caused by the ending of a good dream. Fluttering her eyes for a while in an attempt to remain awake, she finally concurred and let her mind shift back into sleep. Upon her eventual awakening, she would realize that this was not a dream, but her new reality.
A/K: Please review! As this is my first fanfic, I need all the help I can get.
