3
For six minutes, I've been swirling a silvery spoon in a cup of plum tea I laced with sherry. I'm sitting alone in my tower. Clink, clink. The spoon jerks around in small circles. The tea must be lukewarm by now. I should drink it, but I feel frozen; I don't seem to be able to make any bigger movements. The images of the Owlery haunt me. Two meek, innocent birds. Why? Why would anyone do that? It's terrifying to even think about how some sick minds might find pleasure in torturing such weak, vulnerable little creatures! Seansie was so trusting and kind. She might have even tried to befriend that scoundrel who went there to hurt her. Perhaps, this was exactly why they chose her. Because she was the first to leave the safety of her roost to fly closer in order to playfully familiarize herself with the visitor...
I try not to dwell on this thought too much. It nauseates me.
She was the only one I could share my loneliness with. Before class, or during my breaks, I could always hear her soft rustling while nestling into the pile of old pillows in her favorite corner. Now there is nothing but silence.
I will never hear the scratches as she sharpened her talons on the leg of my cupboard.
Demented sadist. For them, it was only a few minutes of aberrant enjoyment to destroy these two fragile animals, but for me... I lost my friend and companion of years! Why can't this kind of person see the world with the eyes of others?
I feel like crying. Finally, I touch my parched upper lip to the maroon surface of my tea and start drinking, though I don't like the taste. It's tepid, and overly sweet. I could cast a spell to warm my tea, but I don't. I simply don't have the energy to bother with it. I don't care.
There is not enough sherry in this cup.
Madam Poppy Pomfrey is back from her trip. She has just arrived, and since I have nothing else to do, I keep watch of her from my tower window. Hagrid helps her with the luggage and lifts the huge suitcases off of the carriage pulled by Thestrals. Madam Pomfrey shows him her hand. What's there to see? Could that be a ring? Perhaps, that healer from St Mungo's she mentioned the last time we had dinner in the Great Hall does have serious intentions after all.
Yes, that evening I made an exception, and ate in the Great Hall with the others.
My throat feels tight as I recall the memory. I went down to humor Filius. We had just had another row, and as a reconciliatory gesture, he invited me to join him in the Great Hall for dinner.
There won't be any more making-up. This time it's different for both of us, I can sense it. I had to tolerate too many of his indiscretions, and he is done cottoning up to me to have my forgiveness. We are through. None of us will take another step to solve this. Not again. I wonder if this is how all long-term relationships end.
My thoughts are drifting, back to the beginning. The day I first met him... Trifle, heart-warming moments I shouldn't reminisce about.
Madam Pomfrey and Hagrid have long gone inside the castle, the Thestrals have pulled the carriage away too, but I'm still sitting there, gazing at the same spot on the grass where people were standing.
I suppose this once, I completely understand myself. I get why I'm drinking as much as I am, though before my fall I had already surpassed my weekly quota. So I shouldn't have had even one glass of sherry during the second half of the week, but I still won't chide myself for emptying two bottles. It's all because of Filius. Ergo, not my fault.
After finishing the second bottle, I pass out, and sleep through the whole day. I'm having vivid nightmares about Seansie. I see her open chest cavity, with her ribs protruding like tiny, pale knitting needles, and blood. Blood everywhere. I dream about so much blood that it upsets my stomach, and when I briefly wake up once, I start dry-heaving.
However, after I get up the next morning, I find myself revitalized. I managed to sleep through the worst of the hangover. Actually, I haven't felt this rested in months. Even my headache has gotten better.
I hold my head under the tap, and wake myself up fully with the cold flow of water. After drying my hair using a spell I successfully cast already on my second attempt, I feel like a person again. Sybill, you are finally back on track. All you need now is to do something about your knee.
My left knee has not recovered since my fall. In fact, it got much worse during this long sleep. It hurts whenever I move the joint. Perhaps, I should have it checked at the Hospital Wing by Madam Pomfrey. Or maybe I'll just walk around a bit; that might liven up the blood flow in my legs.
I have no idea when the last time I had a real inclination of leaving my tower was. Now, I do. I welcome the idea of exercising my muscles by going down the stairs. When I inhale the familiar, torch-smoke smell of the old castle corridors, it's even invigorating.
I attempt only short distances, from window to window, and take a short break at each stop to give my bad knee a minute to rest.
I look down at the Hogwarts grounds, and take in the summer beauty of the bright green vegetation. A dove crosses the sky above me. Its route arches away from the light, towards the dark clouds looming on the horizon in the East. That's a bad omen. It means getting an unpleasant surprise.
"Sybill."
I turn as I hear my name from behind. It's Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher, standing next to a stone pillar.
"Have you seen Poppy around?" she asks. "I've been looking for her ever since Professor Vector sprained his ankle."
"I don't know where she is." Well, the tone of my reply was quite okay. I was not sure that I would be able to pull it off after my last drinking spree. Speaking normally, I mean. But hey, my words were only slightly rasping – no worse than usual. I risk another sentence, "If you do see her, please let her know that I need my knee checked, too."
"Alright." Sinistra is on her way again, towards the end of the corridor.
If I were Minerva, she would have caringly asked what was wrong with my knee. I pull a face, and walk in the opposite direction.
Madam Pomfrey has disappeared. It's been already two days. I climbed down the stairs to ask about her on several occasions, but no news. Where could she be? She has not left Hogwarts, everyone is sure of that. What on earth is she doing then? Where is she hiding? No one seems to know a thing about her whereabouts – or at least no one told me. I can only walk with a limp in my step. I need to show my knee to her. When will she deign to return to her duties?!
I stopped drinking for the last two days. I did some cleaning and rearranged my furniture instead. I scrubbed the blood from the carpet for example. Those stains must have been there since my fall. Now everywhere is nice and clean. If Madam Pomfrey healed my knee, all things would be alright around me.
I'm making progress mentally as well. I have not recollected any memory of Filius lately, and I started writing my teaching plans for the autumn. I also came up with the idea to go down to Professor Sprout's greenhouses and fetch a new houseplant instead of the poor round-potted one. That old one has been most definitely dead, since January in my estimation. I have not carried out my plan though, at least not yet. I am too lazy to cover that long distance across the Castle grounds for a seedling. But I think about it more and more often. I need to be around life, even if it's just a houseplant.
I visualize the greenhouses and try to picture them as inviting. Those beautiful, unique flowers with opulent petals and rich nectar, and the sprawling network of bizarre vines. The cascade of shapes and colors... But I still don't have the strength to climb down there.
The next afternoon, I have a breakthrough. I suddenly understand that if I don't leave my tower right away, I'll drink a glass of sherry. So I collect myself and take the stairs. Slowly, protecting my injured knee as much as possible, I arrive at the schoolyard. A couple more minutes later, I'm in front of the greenhouses. I select one structure randomly and walk up to the entrance. There is a huge padlock hanging on the door.
"Just your luck, Sybill," I mutter. "You should have known better..." Professor Sprout mentioned it once in passing that she only irrigated and fed her plants on Wednesdays, and otherwise kept the greenhouses locked up for the summer.
I'll go get the keys from her – I make up my mind. It should not be in vain that I came this far. I'll obtain the keys, and then a seedling, just like I planned. Sybill, you shouldn't let small inconveniences stop you.
I turn back to the castle with a displeased sigh. An unhealthy dryness in my throat whispers that I'd be a lot better off sitting in my tower, guzzling sherry. I do my best to ignore the notion, and take a determined step in the direction of the closest path. This is when my right foot slips and my injured left leg is too weak to hold my weight, so I lose my balance. I have to make a few desperate circling motions with my arms like an ungainly, giant bird to prevent myself from tripping completely over. Uh, at least I managed to avoid another fall. What was this? I bend over and check what my foot could have slipped on. There is something there that made the sole of one of my old brown leather shoes glide over.
I pick it up because my glasses are not strong enough to ascertain from a distance what that treacherous, small object could be. It has an alien, flexible texture. I hold it in front of my eyes. The next second, I throw it as far away as physically possible. And I scream so loud that it echoes around the greenhouses.
No, it can't be... It cannot be a human finger! I must have made a mistake. I take a deep breath, calming myself. You are crazy, Sybill. How could it have been a finger? Your eyes tricked you.
I'm shivering as I take a few tentative steps in the direction where I hurled the strange object. I look for the thing, and leaning closer, check it again. I did not make a mistake. A finger, with the nail clipped short and practical. The finger has been torn off by the knuckle and ends in reddish-dark flesh. It looks so life-like... I start screaming again, I can't help myself. I'm trembling like a leaf in the wind. How can anything be this disgusting? The finger is just lying there, between two tufts of grass. And I even touched it!
There is a golden ring on it, close to the thickest joint. It awakens a memory in the back of my mind.
I abruptly stop screaming like a banshee, and just stare without a sound. A numb worry takes the place of the stormy feelings of fear and disgust. Not far from me, I see some brownish stains on the grass, and I go there to investigate. My knees are shaking stronger than ever before. I can barely stand, but I won't back down.
In the middle of the stains, there are two more fingers. A thumb, and a longer, thinner digit. Both end in circular wounds.
I'm screaming again. In the distance, behind the greenhouses, I catch sight of even more stains. Dried pools of blood. My stomach churns. I'm on my way toward those discolorations, but an instinctual terror holds me back at the same time. Therefore, my steps are reluctant and teetering.
I can see it now. Behind the nearest greenhouse, there is a human body lying next to the transparent panels of the structure. The body is covered with blood, dried black – even the glass slabs are spattered. The corpse is wearing a white robe but I can barely recognize the color, and I can't see any parts of the face because of the caked fluids. Wasps, flies, and other insects are buzzing around the heap.
I won't go any nearer. I turn and run to the castle, not registering the pain stabbing into my swollen left knee. Help! Please, help! This is too horrible. I start screaming again as I enter the dark shadows of the building's interior.
My brain has blocked out a few minutes. The next thing I'm able to recall is standing in front of the greenhouses again. Minerva is right beside me, with one arm around my shoulders, holding me so that I don't stumble. Filius is on my other side, touching my elbow with his hand. Oddly, I find their support comforting, though I really shouldn't.
Tears are running down my face as I'm pointing in the direction where I saw that thing...
I don't need to go any further. After making sure that I can hold up my own weight, Minerva and Filius leave me behind. They close in on a location where they can take a look at the body without stepping on the old blood stains. I can see Filius hastily balk, and withdraw. His face has turned ashen gray.
"Merlin's beard," he mutters, grabbing his balding forehead with both hands. "Poppy... This is Poppy. And her nose... It's almost as if filed off..."
"Her ears are missing too." Minerva swallows.
This is the last thing I remember as I collapse.
When I wake up, I'm lying on my back, on a corner bed of the Hospital Wing. I have a cold pack on my forehead. Light, cool trickles of water are trailing down my temples, dampening my disheveled hair. The memories of the afternoon are slowly returning to me from the blur that's in my head. The fingers... The body...
"Help," I moan. Right away, Filius emerges next to my bed. He is holding a vial of arctic blue energizing potion. He might have just concocted it for me because it's still letting puffs of vapor in the air.
"How are you feeling, Sybill?" he asks softly. "Are you alright?"
"I don't know," I whimper. "Poppy... what happened to her? How did she die? I mean, was she actually dead, or...?"
"Yes, she had already been long dead when you found her. Someone stabbed her in the abdomen with a big knife, multiple times, and then cut off her fingers, nose and ears. Poor Poppy, the pain she must have gone through! I can't even begin to fathom..." His voice trails off. I see that he grapples with the nausea the memories awake. His complexion is as pale as if he was the one lying dead in the grass, not her.
"How someone was capable of doing something like this," I finish the sentence for him.
We both fall silent, with mute horror lingering on our faces.
