The Other Potter: Book One

Chapter Twenty Eight: The Sense of a Sequel.

[Chapter Twenty Eight. The Sense of a Sequel. Edited.]

The moment before you're awake is serene. You aren't in pain, you aren't freezing, and the world isn't impossibly cruel to you. Of course, moments pass and whatever world you're living in can feel too hard to bear. But sometimes, when you have friendship and laughter and love, weeks can pass as though you're in that moment.

The best days I ever had in my life were the days I finally broke free from my Father's reign over me. It wasn't as though it was easy to do, and it wasn't as though the story of my parents has ended, but I broke far enough away to discover the world. Behind the walls of a castle at eleven years of age, I began to live. Even though there were stressful times – like trying to smuggle a dragon out of the castle – I was living my life amongst people who cared about me. I was completely aware of how good I had it and I would fight tooth and claw for it to stay that way.

The moment between sleep and wake scarcely seemed to pass. I was warm. I was in no pain. The room was bright from behind my closed eyelids. I wasn't afraid. I knew I was inside the Hospital Wing, and if I were lucky, I'd be in the bed overlooking the grounds. I opened my eyes and stared out the window beside me – the outdoors looked as lush and beautiful as they ever did.

"Good Morning, Willow." said Dumbledore. I turned and he was sitting beside me.

"Good morning, Professor Dumbledore. What's been happening?"

"Voldemort is gone, Willow."

"Does that mean Quirrell is, too?"

"Unfortunately."

I frowned. Evil or not, death was never the best option. I wasn't sure what was, but I knew what it wasn't.

"Is Harry alright? Voldemort – Quirrell, whoever – they threw him at a wall. He's okay, isn't he?"

"He is still unconscious," he gestured towards the bed opposite me, hidden behind the curtains.

"He is going to be okay, right, Professor?"

"Yes, I believe so."

I exhaled in relief. "You should have seen him down there, sir. Vol-Quirrell? He was saying terrible things the whole time, about Harry's family... I don't know how he did it, sir... But Harry... He's the bravest person I've ever met. He was so collected. He would have died to protect that stone, I just knew it... He would have died to protect me." Professor Dumbledore smiled at me. "Like, Gryffindor house personified is Harry Potter... He's just kind of inspiring, Professor, I dunno."

"I'm proud of you, Willow," Professor Dumbledore said in earnest. I didn't know what to think. "You are sweeter than sugar – which your admirers have tried to tell you." He gazed at something to my left. Following his eyes, I saw a table piled with half of a lolly shop.

"Why?" I asked, because I couldn't think of anything else to say.

"What happened down in the dungeons between you, Harry and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows."

"How long have I been in here?" I had that feeling where you wake up from a nap and you can't remember what year it is.

"Just two days. Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger will be most relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried."

"What about the stone? What about Flamel? How'd you get back? How'd you figure out about Quirrell?" All my questions poured out at once, but I pretended it was intentional. Professor Dumbledore smiled at me, nonetheless.

"It was all quite peculiar. Fawkes, my phoenix, met me midair. Fawkes seemed to be carrying a note from you, a note describing about Quirrell going through the trapdoor and how you were going ahead of your friends."