ILLUSION
"Prongs, mate, you won't believe it!" cried Sirius Black, clutching his best friend's arm like an excited eight-year old. "There's a muggle hospitalized on the third floor for treatment of Unanticipated Curses. Isn't that wonderful?"
"I don't see what's so wonderful about a poor old muggle being locked up in a hospital full of grumpy Healers and strange smells," said his friend, frowning.
Sirius rolled his eyes at him. "I'm not saying that I'm happy about a muggle being injured, James. You know that. It's just that I've always wanted to talk to a muggle, perhaps invite his family to dinner or something…."
James Potter snorted loudly. "Sirius," he said, "I always knew that you would lose your sanity one day, working as Junior Assistant in the Department of Muggle Relations. My friend, you are diseased, the disease of muggle-o-mania, as Moony calls it."
Sirius pretended temporary deafness, by looking at his goblin-crafted wrist watch four times in a row. Finally, when he could not bear James's smirks any longer, he decided to change tactics.
"Whatever, Prongs," said Sirius. "But do me a favour. Why don't you hop ahead on your own a bit, and give Moony my greetings. I'll join you guys in a bit."
"You're going to visit that ruddy old muggle, are you not?" asked James, shaking a long accusatory finger at him.
"Better a muggle than a werewolf," said Sirius jokingly, but James gave him a stern glance.
"How many time have I—"" began James
"Relax, mate," said Sirius. "Nobody here knows that Remus Lupin, our beloved Moony, is a werewolf."
"And I would prefer it to remain that way," snapped James. But James might as well have been talking to a wall, because whenever Sirius Black had a bout of muggle-o-mania, he became perfectly impervious to all sense.
James watched Sirius leave with some irritation. Now he would have to find Moony's ward all by himself, and it was no easy task. Werewolves were always secluded in the furthest, most obscure corners of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies, especially those who did not have too many rich connections.
He noted with some amusement the way all the female Healers and passers-by in the vicinity were eyeing him and Sirius with adoring, simpering smiles. Sirius's good looks and his own wealth worked like an irresistible magnet for women alright. Women! They were the same everywhere.
James could barely remember all the photographs of marriageable women he'd been shown by his aunt. His aunt had sent him to various "business" parties and balls, in the hope that he would pick some girl there out of the blue and marry her. Sure, the girls in the photographs and at the parties were pretty and rich, and maybe, some of them were even sensible enough. But they lacked the fire, that spirit, the will power that James wanted to find in them. So far, he had been utterly disappointed.
James did not believe in judging a person based on his outer appearance; he gave more importance to the inner beauty of the soul. The kind of beauty that women—fair-weather friends--did not possess. They only ran after money and glamour. The moment youth and wealth are over, women flee away. Weren't all his aunts and cousins testimony to that? Humph. The Potter family had been nothing but a series of business alliances in the disguise of marriages. And James did not wish to turn his life into a monetary scheme.
The silly magazines talked of his falling in love with a new girl every other month….As if two people could fall in love with each other in such a short time! No. It would take years to know a person well enough to love her, and accept all her flaws…. And when it came to women, James could see nothing but flaws. Sirius called him hard to please, perhaps he was. So what? At least he wasn't foolish enough to fall in love at first sight! Love at first sight was only fit for women's gossip magazines and his Aunt Virginia's romance novels.
"Ooof!"
Lost in his thoughts, James had just bumped into a hapless passer-by, and had toppled to the floor in an entangled mass of limbs and shattered glass-phials. It was a complete mess, to say the least.
A fresh scent of peppermint pervaded his consciousness, and his tired eyes popped open with a newly discovered zeal. Large doe-like eyes peered into his hazel ones with concern, and he found himself swallowing several times.
It had all happened in the matter of a second. His throat had gone completely dry, his palms were wet and clammy with perspiration, and all his hairs were standing on one end. The room around him was a foggy spiraling haze; he felt so dizzy that he was afraid he was going to faint. What was happening to him?
"Are you alright?" the woman in front of him asked, and something quivered in his heart. Her voice…. He knew it was a voice that would be imprinted upon his memory forever, indelible, till the day he breathed his last.
He watched her stunned, like a man hypnotized. This new strange emotion sprouting in his heart was terrifying, to say the least. He did not like it; it somehow made him feel weak and vulnerable…. A situation that he had never encountered before.
The girl was indeed beautiful, an observation that amazed James, because he'd never considered himself partial to the beauty of women. She had the most immaculately sculpted face, chiseled to an outstanding perfection. The delicate slope of her nose, the luscious pout of her lips, the porcelain of her cheeks; he had never been so enamoured by a face before. Her emerald green eyes had an exotic look that gave her the appearance of a wood-nymph. Her hair, a dark titian, almost brown, was of the same rich red colour that his mother used to have. It seemed almost like a sacrilege to rest his eyes on something so beautiful.
Who was she? What was she?
No. No. No. It wasn't possible. This was nothing but an illusion. Such beauty couldn't possibly be meant for mortals. Such beauty couldn't possibly transcend into reality. It was all a figment of his hyper-active imagination.
But the next moment, she touched his arm, and he recoiled as if she had burnt him.
"I'm f-f-f-fine," he stammered, not daring to look at her again, lest he did something foolish.
It was obvious that she did not believe him, for her divine eyes seemed to say that she was uncertain of his sanity.
He felt a hot prick of shame, and flushed to the roots of his messy black hair. Why was she having such an eerie effect on him? Despair at his own prattish-ness in the presence of such perfection…. turned into a boiling rage at her for making him lose his self-control.
"I'd have been better if you hadn't bumped into me, clumsy clod that you are," he spat at her. "Why don't you watch where you're walking; are you blind, you stupid maggot? Or perhaps I should buy you a crutch?"
The woman gasped at him. Why, he had to be the rudest, most insolent man on earth! No one had ever dared to talk to her that way. The tiger in her rose to meet the challenge.
"I hate to say this, but you're the one who needs eyes here," said she heatedly. "Not only have you smashed my bottles of very costly medicine, you've also---You're James Potter, are you not?"
The sudden sound of his name from her lips was nectar to his ears. Could she please repeat it one more time?
"And what if I am?" he said, with darkened eyes.
"Then you're as arrogant and conceited as I've always imagined you to be," she said, her green eyes flashing fire.
Such an insult from any other person would have been unpardonable…. But all that James could think of was the unmistakable realization that her anger was a fascinating turn-on for him. He felt more and more ridiculous by the second. Even her insults were endearing!
"Are you a Healer here?" he asked her immediately upon seeing the identity-card pinned to her lime-green robes. Olivia McKinnon, it read. Olivia….Somehow, that wasn't the name he had in mind for her. It was far too bold….for someone as delicate as her.
She'd seen him eyeing her card, perhaps, for she quickly plucked off the card, and tossed it into her pocket, looking uneasy for the first time. So she wasn't as unafraid of him as she pretended.
"Answer me," he said imperiously, as if he had a right over her. "Are you a Healer here?"
"Why? Going to have me fired? Is that what you have in mind?" she snapped at him, and he felt even happier than before. What was wrong with him?
"James?"
James turned to see Sirius standing behind him, a perplexed look upon his handsome face.
"One minute, Padfoot!" he said impatiently, and he turned around to face the girl again.
She was gone.
For a moment, he felt as if the ground had slipped from beneath his feet. He felt a sudden fear engulfing him. He felt as if he had lost something very dear to him; what else could explain the unfamiliar emptiness within him?
"Where did she go?" he rasped out, striding amok here and there, like a madman, searching for her desperately.
"Who?" asked Sirius, flabbergasted.
"The girl I was talking to!" cried James, who was now opening one door after another, in return getting many angry abuses from the patients he had disturbed.
"I dunno, mate," said Sirius, scratching his chin. He could not understand why James was suddenly so interested in a girl. Why, James seemed almost frantic with worry! A trait that was most unlike James Potter.
"Are you alright, Prongs?" enquired Sirius anxiously.
"I'm FINE!" shouted James, his face red with tension. "I wish people would stop asking me that STUPID QUESTION!"
By now, Sirius had realized that this was nothing short of an emergency. He had never seen James so frazzled before in the ten years of knowing him.
"Relax, James," said Sirius. "Don't get your broomsticks in a twist! Tell me what's wrong. What did the girl do? Did she steal something of yours?"
What had she done to him? James suspected it was Dark Magic. Nothing else could have had such an absurd effect on him!
"She…She…is a Dark Witch!" he cried, not caring whether he made sense or not. "She crashed into me while I was on my way to Remus's ward, and she mumbled some strange words as if she was hexing me….I think she's cursed me! I can't think straight!"
Had it not been James Potter—a person who had never shown the least signs of insanity---Sirius would have probably laughed outright and handed the poor devil to a mental asylum. But since it was James….
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"I want to see the Healer named Olivia McKinnon!" James barked at Head Healer Smythe, and pounded an angry fist repeatedly against the massive oak desk. The ink-bottle rolled over, and smashed into pieces.
Sirius tried to pretend that he did not know James Potter; he really wished he didn't. James was embarrassing him now.
"She'll be here in a moment, Sir Potter," said the trembling Smythe, looking as if he would puke any moment now. Sirius heartily sympathized with him.
"You've been saying that for the last fifteen minutes," growled James, and Smythe retreated further into his chair.
"Sir Potter," said Smythe. "The Herbology Department is two blocks away, and as we cannot Apparate into St. Mungo's….It is a long distance to cover, Mr. Potter, Sir."
James merely grunted.
"May I take the liberty of saying that Miss Olivia McKinnon is an exceptionally talented Trainee Healer, Sir?" said Smythe, wiping the sweat from his brow. "The Ministry would lose a lot by losing her….She cannot possibly have---"
A sharp knock at the door caused Smythe to rise to his feet and usher in Olivia McKinnon.
The girl that stood in front of Sirius Black did not have a single trace of Dark Magic about her. She had dark hair that barely covered her ears, and her spectacles revealed innocent blue eyes. Her jaw was ruthlessly rigid, and there was a certain no-nonsense look about her intelligent face that made it impossible to believe that she dealt in Voodoo.
"Who are you?" asked James Potter, still looking grumpy and sullen.
"I'm Trainee Healer Olivia McKinnon," said the girl, with a defiant toss of her chin.
Sirius watched with interest as James's frown deepened, and his anger receded into something that seemed suspiciously like regret.
"Are you the only Olivia McKinnon working at St. Mungo's?" asked James, his voice back at its usual cold baritone.
"Yes," she said in an equally cold voice. "My name is rather unusual, not everyone has it. The McKinnons are fairly well-known people; and we've met on several occasions, Mr. James Potter, if you can pressure your memory a bit. I'm Chief Auror Marlene McKinnon's younger sister. Apparently you have mistaken me for someone else."
"Apparently," responded James. Sirius had to bite back a laugh to see James look so abashed.
At this point, James found himself incapable of further speech, so he withdrew from the room, without another word. Sirius followed him quietly, giving James the silence that he wanted.
But Sirius knew by then that the silence was merely the beginning of a storm.
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Alright, then. I give you the liberty to flame my rather cliched fanfic... As long as you leave a review. Hint. Hint. DrF gives you a large sheepish goofy grin here. Hope you won't disappoint her!