The sun rose red to the east. Senior Healer Anya was puzzled by a sudden snippet of knowledge that floated through her thoughts: a red sun rising meant blood had been spilt that night. She had always dismissed that as implausible divination nonsense, but perhaps she had been a little overly dismissive. She had never held with Divination, preferring the sciences of Arithmancy and Potions much more. Pondering this, she rose from the window seat and settled behind her desk. She fished her wand out of her pocket and dipped it into the silvery liquid-like substance floating in the Penseive. Pulling the wand out again, she looked at the long tendril, leaning forward to peer closer.
She caught a glimpse of something green, wrapped tightly around a boy's throat. Pointing the wand at her own temple, she allowed the tendril to disappear. Ah, yes. The young boy, 19, name of Neville Longbottom…He had seemed strangely familiar, but no...He had been strangled, almost to death, by a hexed Devil's Snare. After the boy had been recalled to consciousness, he had asked if the plant was okay! She could still hear his voice, "But it was confused! It didn't know any better. It's a defense mechanism…" And off he went. Psychology for a plant? They had opted to do a central nervous scan, just in case the diagnostic spell had been wrong.
The next tendril was long. She peered at it and saw a flash of red. And another. And another. And another. Of course, she had combined these four cases when she had spoken to the parents. Regretfully, she reinserted that memory. How sad for the parents, she thought recovering her breath from the almost physical pain of that memory. She had been there to tell them of their son, Ronald's death, and had watched them miserably at the news. But the night had been much, much worse to them. After Ronald, they had lost George to a hex blast to the side of his head. Then, a daughter, to be graduating within the month, to a failure of three main organs. And then, the son missing, Charlie, was found. Dead, by the Aveda Kadavra curse, and…that poor family…someone had mangled his body, after his death, carving the Dark Mark into his flesh over and over.
It took her a minute of sad reflection before she dared to try another memory. The Aurors. Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody had fallen, taking no less then seven Death Eaters with him. Nymphadora Tonks, who had looked implausibly young to be an Auror had plunged into insanity, after prolonged torture under the Cruciatus Curse. She would most likely live out the remainder of her years in the Resident's Ward, next to the Longbottoms. Of course, she remembered suddenly. The boy with the plant had been a Longbottom!
Only one strand lay in the bottom of the Penseive now, taking a deep breath, she pulled out that one and saw something…large. It had never been done before, but here she sat, giving aid to a giant. Something by the name of Grawp…They had lost him, when they shouldn't have. But they had simply no idea how to help since magic rarely worked on giants. She had been mad when first seen the patient, thinking her time wasted on an oaf, but when she saw the big man crying for his…half-brother?…and seen the way the giant acted in his last few minutes alive, surely he had been half-blinded with pain…yet he had been…she refused to call it polite, some things were just too outlandish…but still mannered. And when they had lost him, she had felt sad, something she would never have thought possible for a giant.
She sighed loudly into the room and thought dryly about how many times she had done that in the last 24 hours. Rising, she stretched out her back, hearing her spine crack. She glanced at the window and was taken aback by how late it suddenly seemed. Rushing out of the room, she suddenly transformed from the weary Anya to the confident Senior Healer that was expected of her. Her first duty would be to check on all the patients and see how the night had fared.
Pausing before the door of room 1A, she felt her heart drop. Patient: Severus Xenophin Snape. Of all of the torture victims, he had been the worse. Despite her protestations earlier that no one was a lost cause, she doubted he had survived the night. Dammit! I had meant to check on him last night, she silently berated herself as she walked into the room. Let him be alive. Oh Merlin, let him be alive.
He was.
Despite everything…he was. Anya stood there, studying his stats, and while not at all what they should be…he was alive! And then, Senior Healer Anya Gwo, age sixty three, did something that she had not once in her entire conscious life remember doing before, she leapt into the air and whooped for joy. Thrusting her hands up into the air, she began to dance.
The startled head of Enendis appeared over the side of the bed. "Umm…-" Emendis cut into one of Anya's more intricate dance moves-a sort of hip wiggle-
"Emendis! I thought I was…well, obviously I wasn't alone… so never mind that," Anya was thoroughly embarrassed at her lack of professionalism.
"I won't say a thing. You can continue, if you'd like." Cheeky devil.
"Unlikely," Anya said, glaring at him icily. (Since clearly it was his fault that she had been embarrassed)
"I understand though," came a much more serious reply. "It kind of gives you hope. If he could make it, I mean."
True. Anya allowed herself a small smile. Very true.
AUTHORS NOTE: I REALIZE THAT HER MEMORIES ARE VERY FRAGMENTED, BUT THE MOOD JUST SEEMED TO FIT IT BETTER. FOR SOME REASON IT SOUNDS VERY HALTED THOUGH AND I WONDER IF I DID THE RIGHT THING. INPUT PLEASE /…OH, AND ANYA REALLY CHANGED FROM THE 'GRAVE' WITCH WE SAW. SOMEHOW, I IMAGINED HER AS BEING A LITTLE BIT MORE SCATTER-BRAINED WHEN SHE HAD PUT HER MIND BACK IN PLACE. SERVES HER RIGHT FROM MESSING WITH HER MIND. WELL, REVIEW PLEASE!