Chapter Fifteen: Adara's Curse - Part Three - The Healer's Touch

It was nearly Halloween before Adara heard from the Headmaster again. She had not seen the little girl since she woke in the Hospital Wing. Her condition had deteriorated dramatically. She quite often mumbled to herself inaudibly. When sound could be heard, it was in a language no one could understand. Her body shook uncontrollably until Pomfrey gave her a tonic to calm her down.

Even Adara's appearance had changed. Her chestnut locks of silky hair were now slicked back against her head with grease from lack of washing. Even her flesh had an oily sheen about it because she had neglected bathing unless it was absolutely necessary. Her eyes were wild and darted around suspiciously whenever anyone entered the room, and she would wring her hands almost constantly as though trying to clean them of something unseen.

The Headmaster entered the Wing wearing dark crimson robes. He glanced at Adara as he moved to speak with Pomfrey. The two had a brief conversation in quiet voices, then Albus shook his head and looked very dismayed. He turned to face Adara again and began walking toward her, Pomfrey followed closely.

"How are you feeling, my dear?" his voice was soft, his words came slowly and there was the usual gentleness in his eyes.

"Fine, just fine, Sir. Ready to get back to my duties. May I leave the Wing now?" Adara's response was very quick and a little high pitched. It was obvious that she desperately wanted to leave the sanctity of the room, but when she noticed the look on the Headmaster's face, she knew immediately she would be forced to stay longer. "No!" she cried. "I don't want to be here anymore!"

"Hush, dear, hush. You will be permitted to leave soon enough." He nodded to Pomfrey a silent command.

The nurse made her way to the opposite side of Adara's bed, and with a nimbleness belying her age, she quickly produced straps from the edges of the bed and wrapped them tightly around Adara's wrists. At the same moment, Albus was at the foot of the bed doing exactly the same thing to her ankles.

At first Adara made no move against them, she simply watched what they were doing with interest. Then realization set in. She was being bound to the bed for a reason, and likely one she would not appreciate. She struggled fiercely against the Headmaster, Pomfrey and the bonds they were placing on her.

"Please, Adara, you are making this more difficult than it needs to be. You must calm down so that we might help you."

"Don't tie me down! Please! I'll behave! I won't see the little girl anymore, I promise!" By the end she was whimpering like a child herself. She thought she was being punished for some unknown wrong.

"You are not in trouble, my dear. Just lay still so that we might run a few tests and answer some of our questions."

Adara's forehead crinkled as she watched Pomfrey and Dumbledore finish what they were doing, then move around to each side of her. The Headmaster sat down as the nurse pulled a phial from her pocket.

"Here, drink this, Miss Sage. It will put you more at ease." Pomfrey rested the phial against Adara's lips and tipped it back. The warm liquid trickled down Adara's throat, forcing her to swallow if she didn't want to choke. When she had drained the contents, the nurse pulled it away and dabbed Adara's lips with her sleeve. "There you are. It will begin working its magic in a few seconds." She smiled kindly and walked off to busy herself with a patient who had just walked through the door.

Dumbledore stood, thanked Madam Pomfrey and pulled the curtains around Adara's bed closed. He made his way around the bed, carefully unbuckled each restraint, then moved back to his seat once Adara's limbs were free again. "Are you feeling more relaxed now?"

Adara nodded somewhat lazily. She felt very warm inside and her toes were beginning to numb. "Yes, Sir. I feel quite a bit better."

"Very good. I'd like you to just clear your mind of all worries. Think about something pleasant, something that makes you happy. Just let yourself be at peace," as Dumbledore spoke, his voice began leveling out. He usually spoke slowly and calmly, but now he was taking on a monotone. Listening to him speak, Adara could not stop herself letting her body go lax. Eventually, as he continued talking, she drifted off to dreamless sleep.

Adara woke after what seemed like only a few minutes of dozing. She yawned, stretched, rubbed her eyes tiredly then looked around. She was still in the Hospital Wing, but this time she seemed to be alone. Not even Madam Pomfrey was anywhere to be seen.

'Adara. Can you hear me, Adara?'

Without looking up, Adara smiled faintly to herself and nodded. "It's you again, isn't it, ma chere? Are you going to come out so that I may see you?"

From behind the curtain a small girl appeared. She remained at the edge of the space surrounding Adara's bed and gripped some of the cloth of the curtain in her trembling hands. Her cheeks were flushed and it was apparent that she had been crying only recently. She nodded to Adara, but said nothing more.

"Ah, there you are." Adara patted the edge of the bed. "Please, come sit down and visit with me. Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you."

The child took a step back and shook her head.

"Alright, alright, you needn't sit with me. However, I would like you to stay. It gets very lonely here when a person is by themselves. Would that be alright?"

The girl nodded and even dared a crooked little smile.

"Very well." Adara smiled back gently. "Now, do you have a name?"

Another nod answered the question, but the girl still did not speak.

"You remind me of someone I once knew. Do you know that?"

When the child shook her head, her eyes took on a different appearance. She no longer looked afraid. Instead, she seemed to be curious.

"Would you like to hear a story, ma chere?" Adara smiled as the girl took two steps forward and nodded eagerly. "Alright. This is the story of a child I knew who possessed strange and miraculous powers, yet for all of her strengths she had many problems. The worst of which was loneliness."

Blessed One, Child of the Healing Hands; The Cure. Those were only some of the names the little girl was called. She had never known her parents. Her entire life, as far back as she could remember, she had lived in the orphanage surrounded daily by nuns, the sick and the dying. New faces were present every day. Those who had been burned by fires, others whose children were taken by severe fevers that no doctor could help with. The child met all different people throughout her youth.

She was known for her special ability of being able to heal any ailment with a touch. The lightest caress could bring someone back from near death. One might think being blessed in such a way, being given the opportunity to save so many lives, would make a young girl happy. This was not the case, however. The child, though pleasant enough to speak with, was quite lonely most of the time. Even though she met countless people, and received much gratitude for healing them, none payed much attention to her beyond that. If at her young age she had words for how she felt, she would have said used. The truth was, she was treated as no more than a tool that came in handy at times, useful quite often, but set aside when there was no immediate need.

None played with her, none spoke to her, and when she was about, most barely even noticed she was there. They would blame this on her quiet nature, of course, but the truth was they did not even realize she existed until someone needed her powers. That was the way things were supposed to be, the nuns told her on a regular basis. 'A tool of the Lord's need only be happy in the work that is done through them. You should never feel lonely because you always have your Father with you.' That is what the nuns would say whenever she expressed a desire to be in someone's company. That was not how she felt though.

Her life was spent tending to the ill and wandering about looking for company. Oh, there were other children in the orphanage. Many of them, in fact. They were all too afraid to approach her, however. Scared of her strange abilities and of her odd ways. While they played and ran about with one another, she often remained to the side watching them as a mother would her children. Whenever they hurt themselves, no matter how mild the injury, she would appear at their sides and heal them with a gentle touch of her fingers. None of them ever thanked her. All they would do was run away from her and return to the 'normal' ones.

Years passed, people came and went receiving healing, and slowly the child grew. Along with her physical growth came more loneliness. Eventually she fell into the routine. Wake, eat, heal, watch the other children play when she had the time, eat again and sleep. Her days consisted of no more, and rarely of less. She considered it a treat when it was her turn to do chores, as those were the times when there was something different to be done. The only time special attention was payed to her was when it came to her studies. The other children had a great deal more time to keep up with schoolwork. The girl, on the other hand, had very few chances to do so. That was when the nuns would help, reading to her occasionally and teaching her what she needed to know. Her grades were usually quite good, but she knew she could do better if only she did not have to heal so much and so many.

It was when she turned seven that tragedy struck. A young man of eighteen, perhaps nineteen, was brought in on a stretcher. The ambulance had pulled up to the orphanage early that morning. The small girl was still in bed sleeping and dreaming of better places. She was quickly woken up by a nun and carried down the stairs to the victim of a shooting. There was more blood than flesh or clothing. Numerous holes could be seen where each bullet had entered his body. When he breathed, everyone could hear the liquid in his lungs. He had very little time left in this world.

"Please save him, Blessed One. You're the only one who can."

The girl sighed and placed her hands on his chest. Strange words formed on her lips and a pale blue glow surrounded her fingers. Those gathered around watched in amazement as the man's wounds healed. Just before she had completed her task, the child was gripped by a seizure. Her hands flew up to her head and she crumpled into a ball on the floor. That was the last time she would heal anyone for years to come.