Chapter 34: Powerless Part I

"I am disappointed. Dumbledore recommended you, the most experienced British wizard in both Curse-Breaking and Healing, and you don't know what you are looking at?" The man's voice sounded like it was coming from a distance. It was an angry and dissatisfied voice.

In this semi-conscious state, all her thoughts ran thick and slow like honey. Senna tried to command her eyes to open, but they were much too heavy. Where was she now?

"My apologies, Roberts, even the most experienced Healers, Curse-Breakers, and Potions Masters are not able to interpret Parseltongue magic of this level." Senna felt a rough hand on her neck, poking and prodding the skin. "As I've said before, based on the test results, it seems to be a seal of some kind. But only an expert in Parseltongue can understand this magic, and remove it."

Headmaster Roberts' voice was there, so she concluded wasn't at Struan's place anymore.

"Where do we find an expert on Parseltongue magic?"

"Sir, this is Heirloom Magic, this magic and it's language is hereditary. The last known descendants of Salazar Slytherin were he-who-must-not-be-named, and his son, who is still alive today, but, well… the entire wizarding world is already looking for him."

"There has to be something we can do. The tournament is a week away."

"I'm sorry, Roberts, I don't know what else we can do."

When Senna's sluggish brain processed those words, panic began to set in. One week away? How had she lost a whole week of time? She urged herself to sit up, but her body was unresponsive.

A moment of awful silence passed between the two men speaking. She wished they would say more. What had Struan done to her? Why can't they fix it? He was a sixteen-year-old boy, he couldn't possibly do magic that experienced healers couldn't reverse… Could he?

"Thank you for your time, I will keep looking." Headmaster Roberts' voice sounded unhopeful.

"Good luck with your search." The other man's voice sounded grave, and sympathetic.

That couldn't be a good sign.

Again, Senna tried to pry open her eyelids, but they felt like they were sewed shut. The attempt drained her of energy, and she felt like she was slipping back into the darkness. No! She cried, she didn't want to go back to sleep. But the darkness engulfed her, and she was back inside the nothingness.

Senna heard a hissing voice echo in her head.

'More. Give me mooore.'

The next time Senna reached awareness, a warm hand was squeezing her own.

"Wake up already, Stupid." A girl's voice sobbed.

Senna tried to reach for this sound. It was both familiar and unfamiliar.

The warm hand squeezed tighter, and another shaky breath left the girl.

"You're so stupid,"The voice repeated, she could her shaky tears. Senna recognized it now. It was Viola's voice. "Would it kill you to ask for help sometimes? Why do you insist on doing everything by yourself?" She sobbed.

"W—We." Senna's voice felt like sandpaper against her throat. And then she went into a coughing fit. "We've been" She coughed, "over this before," More coughing. Then her voice became raspy, "You do everything by yourself, too. Doesn't that make you just as stupid as me?"

Senna pried her glued eyes open, and Viola's red, tear filled face came into focus. Senna was happy to see her, for some reason.

"You!" Her green eyes went from grief to rage in a second. "You idiot!" She cried.

Viola punched her shoulder.

Senna winced. "Ouch."

Viola dropped down into her chair, and then leaned into her now throbbing shoulder. She buried her face there. Senna could feel her vibrating as she sobbed. It seemed like just yesterday she was trying to console another sobbing girl, and Senna didn't have the energy for it—literally. It felt as though her limbs were made of lead, and it would take a great amount of strength to move them, and Senna did not have that strength.

Senna took a deep breath, taking in Viola's sweet and spicy scent. It comforted her, and brought some warmth back into her icy blood. But that deep breath seemed to take a lot out of her, and she could feel the edges of her vision begin to face.

"No," Senna whispered, fighting the lethargy that tried to pull her back into the abyss. "No."

Viola lifted her head up.

"What's wrong?" Her voice was alarmed.

"I can't," Senna struggled, "I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Senna, what happened? Please tell me."

Senna thought quickly as her vision began to blur, "Struan, he cursed me, because I refused him. He said he was taking something away. My power, I think. He said…" But Senna's vision was black again, and she wasn't sure her lips were still moving.

The next time she came to, the room was silent and dark. She could make out the grey shapes around her, the austere medical room, surrounded by colorless curtains.

She had no idea how much time had passed. Had it been hours? Or days? Had she missed the tournament?

Senna hated this. She felt so weak. She couldn't even move her own limbs.

Senna roared in frustration, but all that came out was a pathetic and miserable cry.

No, she was not going to live like this.

Senna mustered up every ounce of energy she had and threw her body upright. She was only partially successful, barely managing to turn over. And then the blackness of fatigue started to claim her once more.

No! Senna roared to herself. She was not going back into nothingness. She was going to stay right here. She attempted to throw her body up again, but only managed to fall off the narrow hospital bed, hitting her head on something before she landed painfully on the floor.

The bedside stand landed with a crash next to her, and in the dim light, saw square pieces of parchment fall around her.

The light in the room suddenly clicked on. "Oh my! What was that?" A female voice echoed through the room.

With the new source of light, Senna's eyes focused on a parchment card that was standing in front of her face, on the floor.

I hope you feel better soon

Your friend,

Hannah Abbot

"Oh my poor dear! Let's get you back in bed!" The plump little witch waved her wand, and a sudden weightlessness came over Senna. She floated back into bed, and the witch let her down gently. She waddled over to Senna, "My my. How are you feeling?" She grabbed Senna's arm, inspecting for injuries from the fall.

"I'm…" Senna couldn't find the words to describe the consuming lethargy she felt. "Tired."

"Oh dear, oh dear, I'm going to speak with your assigned Healer, please stay put, I'll be right back." The little witch waddled away.

Unfortunately, Senna did not have the energy to stay awake long enough to meet her assigned Healer.

Senna sat in the dark nothingness of her subconscious. But this time, she wasn't alone.

A hissing voice spoke, 'More. I want more. This isn't enough.'

'Who are you?' Senna answered.

The hissing fell silent for a moment. Then it spoke, 'You can hear me?'

'I can.'

'Then give me moore.'

'More what?'

'More power. Your magic, It's mine. All mine! Give me more.' The image of a giant leech stuck to her neck came into her mind. It was grey, scaly, and slimy, and started bulging as it sucked the life essence from her…

Senna screamed herself awake. She threw herself off the bed, landing on the floor once more. She didn't care that her limbs felt like lead, she took her lead arms and dragged herself across the floor.

Her arms screamed, and sweat poured from her. But she didn't care, she was going to get out of here.

She managed to crawl into the bathroom. She reached up for the sink, and then tried to pull herself up, but her arms burned, now they were hot molten lead. She tried harder, she was too stubborn to give up—and somehow got her torso over the sink's edge, and then she just stared at her reflection.

Her skin was sallow and pale. She looked more dead than the ghosts at Hogwarts. Dark shadows lined her eyes. She was quite a hideous sight.

But the most striking thing was the big black mark on her neck. It was like braided, scaly ropes, entwined into a circle. Strange symbols littered along the edge and center of the circle. This was the curse. This was what Struan did to her.

Senna's arms gave out, and she collapsed.

The blackness consumed her once more.

She woke up in a forced sitting position and a very bitter taste in her mouth. Senna choked from it. "Ew." Senna coughed. "What—what is this?"

A large white hand was pulling a vial from her mouth. This potion was responsible for the awful taste. Her eyes followed the treacherous hand, where it landed, very surprised, on Severus Snape.

"Snape!" Senna cried in relief and surprise.

"Professor Snape." He corrected in a monotone voice. Though his face and voice conveyed no emotion, there was something burning behind his eyes.

"Professor I—" Senna paused, looking down at her hands, and then the rest of her body. The lethargy was still there, but she found herself not slipping back into the blackness.

"How do you feel, Senna?" Headmaster Roberts' voice made her jump. She looked up and realized there were two more men in the room, one of which was her Headmaster.

"Better…?" It sounded like a question.

"Ah! Good!" Headmaster Roberts exhaled in obvious relief. "That potion of yours, Severus, is absolutely amazing. We are so grateful Dumbledore has a gem like you…. Now, how many of these can be brewed for the tournament, we have just a few days…."

Snape's hand tightened over the vial in visible irritation. "This treats the symptoms, Roberts. It does not cure the problem."

"Well, she looks much better already."

"She cannot compete in the tournament, she is in no state to participate." Snape said in a sure voice.

"If you don't mind Severus, I will ask the Healer's opinion in that matter." Headmaster Roberts turned to the man in the mint green scrubs.

"He's right, there's no telling how this curse will affect her. It will more than likely put her life in danger." The healer said. "She needs to rest, she will be out for months."

No, this couldn't be happening, Senna thought. Senna balled her hands into fists, gripping the hospital blanket.

"No, I'm fine." Senna said in her toughest voice, though it sounded like a croak. "I can compete."

"Absolutely not." Snape told her.

"I feel much better now." Senna assured him.

"Ah, great to hear, Senna, your resilience is outstanding. I applaud your bravery." Headmaster Roberts' voice boomed with relief.

Both Snape and the Healer shot him a very dirty look, but he seemed immune.

The grown men began to bicker. The healer advised Headmaster Roberts, in a very professional voice, that it was a bad idea. Snape threw in his professional advice as well, explaining that she could not rely on the potions for long periods of time. But Roberts was stubborn, holding on to Senna's word.

It soon became very obvious that Headmaster Roberts cared more for the tournament than her safety. But Senna did not care. Though his intentions were questionable, they had the same goal—winning the Triwizard Tournament. And so she backed him up wherever she could.

At one point in the argument, Senna added, "It'll be fine, even if I can't use magic, I'll think of something."

All three men froze and fell silent.

Then, they turned to her with surprised expressions.

And that's when Senna realized that they didn't know… and she would've been better off keeping her mouth shut.

"What do you mean?" Headmaster Roberts' voice, which was enthusiastic moments before, was now very grave. "You can't use magic?"

"Well, um…" Senna's eyes met Snape's, which looked back at her with frightening intensity. "The curse Struan put on me." Senna gulped nervously. "I think he took away my magic."

Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment if you can!

I am looking for a beta or someone to help me proof read, please send me a message if interested.

-xxsorenxx