Three Weeks Earlier
Fingers slipped under my arms and dragged me from the hall. My head rolled uselessly around my shoulders, my eyes connecting with McGongall's for a heartbeat. The woman was weeping, her face a mask broken by the river of tears intruding her serene facade.
My fingers rose slowly, running along my teeth to see there were at least three missing. Reaching m hand out I felt the pearly knobs fly through the air and into them, pocketing them as quickly as I could; which wasn't very fast. The two Death Eaters carrying me were young, fresh recruits.
"Merlins beard, is she still awake?" one whispered, her eyes scouring my face.
Her hand come down and slapped my face, hard, to check. Feigning unconsciousness I let my head loll to the side uselessly. Satisfied, she kept walk at the same pace, my legs dragging behind them and stretching my stomach out.
"Something tells me she's not going to do much fighting. Did you see her? She could have killed them if what they say is true." whispered the husky voice of an older man.
"I doubt she can see the future, seers are frauds nine times out ten. And as for wandless magic, there isn't a seventeen year old in existence who can perform it." scowled the girl, tightening her grip on me.
My eyelids began to flutter as I regurgitated another mouthful of blood. Soon my skin began to feel as though it was contracting in search of blood, tightening over my very flesh. Slowly, slowly my head tilted forward before I felt my mind slip out of consciousness.
I awoke to a long hallway with the heaviest iron door I had ever seen at the end. The lock it held was crude, a muggle lock. The Death Eater's had a sense of humour, I suppose, but it wasn't so funny when I saw the size of the room. A circular room with a barred window, only just long enough for me to lie flat in.
A ragged blanket all too familiar sat in the middle, the one from my vision. I quivered with fear as I understood what I would turn into, that white haired bag of bones laughing maniacally in the corner. Tears streamed afresh down my face as I muttered something along the lines of 'Please'.
"I'm... I'm sorry..." whispered the deeper of the two voices, a whisper so quiet I wasn't sure whether or not it had been my imagination,
The girl, however, swung me easily across the room, the loud crack reminding me of another broken bone. As my breath grew short I realised it was a rib, puncturing my lung. Waiting desperately for them to close the door so as to keep my wandless magic a secret, I grew even more desperate for air.
"Wait- Wait, listen she's not-" the man called out, before being silenced by his opponent.
And so, the door was closed, the click of the lock the only welcoming sound in the school. Laying my finger over the perpetrator, I muttered 'Lung, lung, lung, lung..." unable to think of a more creative name for a spell. A gurgling noise alerted me to the blood being drained from the blood as it inflated with air once more.
I supposed that the Latin words for spells were once the equivalent of English. I mean, it was the spoken language when the basic spells were created, it only made it funnier that the following spell-makers followed suit by using the dead language.
Laying myself out flat as I would any other patient, I began to slowly repair the damage. Foot, Hand, Arm, Elbow, Rib, Rib, Rib... Kidney, Throat, Spine, Jaw, Jaw... Skull, teeth, teeth, fingers. The dull ache began to shrink smaller and smaller, the pain more immense than I thought as I lay in its absence.
The blood staining my chin, neck and clothes wasn't so much of a bother. I was more tired than I had ever been before, but I was determined to stay awake. I blinked a second too long, however, and soon found myself dreaming.
She stared at him when he wasn't looking. If she saw him walking her way she'd fix herself up, maybe try dab some lipstick on her lips. She'd be so embarrassed if anyone knew how she felt about him, no-one saw him with anyone else but her.
But she wasn't here. No, Neville would need someone soon.
The dream slipped away as soon as it had come, exiting my mind before I could articulate what made me feel sick in the stomach. Across from me sat a haggardly looking Death Eater, his long black hair covering his features entirely. Looking up he revealed a pair of brown eyes so dark the pupils weren't visible.
"What time is it?" I rasped, my voice barely there.
"Late afternoon. You've only been asleep most of a day." he replied, he accent Northern and harsh, undertones of Scottish.
"Water?" I whispered, praying that they wouldn't deprive me.
He produced a goblet from behind him and passed it to me. Though large in size, the water didn't fill me. Every mouthful kept my mouth dry and my stomach empty, cool but not refreshing. I wanted to cry as it slid down my neck with no nourishment.
"It's enchanted. You're getting water, technically, it just taste of feel like it. His idea." the man whispered, leaning forward with eyes darting to the door so as to ensure he wasn't heard.
The torture was as innovative as it was cruel, but if my body was technically receiving the water I had to cope with it, I supposed. Yet, the voice of the man opposite me was familiar, I was sure I had heard it before, yet my memory of last night was so foggy I couldn't truly say it was him.
Tossing a slice of bread to me, the solider left the room, locking the door securely behind himself. I was almost glad that it was stale, the hardness soothing the soreness of my newly replaced teeth and healed jaw. Plus, it made me feel fuller.
Leaning against the wall, I hoped that I would remember all of the spells I had created. Lifting the blanket from myself, I saw my body was drenched in dried blood, the flake of which crumbled away when I moved. My abdomen screeched in pain as I felt the bread rise from my stomach and escape my mouth, taking half of the water with it.
Again my skin felt stretched as my body searched for fluids, the feeling enough to make me close my eyes and pray for sleep. I whispered over and over 'Stupefy' but it refused to work, leaving me conscious beside a pool of my own vomit, cold and bloody.
"Do you want a bath?" someone called out, this voice more proper and polished than that of the Northerner.
"P-please?" I replied, soon being lifted to my feet to accompany the older man to a claw footed tub filled with soapy water.
Leaving me alone in the room, I searched it for any comforting details. The walls were slate, grey and cold, the floor the same marble that covers most of Hogwarts floors. It was too cold to remain on the floor barefoot, so I stripped and hesitantly crept into the tub.
Rubbing at the bloodstains I expected them to smoothly melt away, but they were as dry as they were before I entered the bath. This water was enchanted too, it seemed. Yet, it achieved one thing, warmth. So I scratched away the blood until new blood was drawn.
As the droplets crept out of my skin I felt the water come into contact with me, yet only where the blood was exposed. With it, I realised that the water was unbearably salty, sting the scratches and making me yelp in pain. Outside of the room I heard the snickers of the men who brought me here, only making me more determined.
I scratched the first layer of skin away from my entire body, it seemed, and felt the warm, salty water flood into the wound. Yet I reminded myself that the salt would stop infection, and persisted. Soon, my body was red and raw, but entirely clean.
Whispering, 'clot.' I watched at all of the wounds ceased to bleed as the blood formed light, easily healed scabs. The water remained on me, and I spent the rest of my bath in warm comfort. I had beaten them, through pain and salt, but beaten none the less.
"Finished yet, Lady Voldemort?" bellowed one of the guards, drawing raucous laughter from the others.
"Yes, servant." I replied merrily, waiting as the guard stood in confliction, enter and admit as my servant or linger and look like a larger fool?
The guard silently entered, a scowl on his face as I stood waiting in the robe that sat in the corner. My clothes were in a bloody pile and I refused to wear them again. The guard called from some black robes to be brought up, as well as any other 'necessary garments'.
I laughed as I dressed myself again in privacy, the robes scratchy against my bare skin, but underwear surprisingly comfortable. My skin was refreshed, as the scabs had come loose after the length exposure to warm water, defeating the paradox of the dry bath.
Instead, I was exfoliated and clean. That didn't seem to please the guards, so they left me with many a parting bruise when I re-entered the prison cell. Another night of silence was less welcome than the last, as I realised the absence of Neville beside me was a nuisance when trying to sleep.
I awoke sooner this time, able to see the Northerner enter. He brought with him the goblet, the bread (today buttered) and a grimace. Eating slower this time, I felt my stomach accept the food more graciously. The Northerner stared at me with a curious gaze, split between curiosity and hate.
"You're Voldemort's daughter?" he asked in a gruff voice, casual in the absence of any other guards.
"Yes. I suppose that's been told to the school?" I added, to which he shook his head.
"You don't seem the type. I mean, you're not... Evil." he contributed, shrugging with the last word.
"You're right, I'm not. Funny thing, blood, doesn't really predict everything." I said, mirroring his shrug with a sarcastic tone.
"He predicted one thing, though, didn't he?" the Death Eater laughed, in reference to the prophecy.
"Do you- Do you know what it means?" I hissed, leaning forward anxiously.
"Elysia, you do not want to know what it means. It will ruin you." he said finally, before standing up to leave.
"What's your name Northerner?" I sighed, leaning against the wall.
"Gerard. How do you know I'm from the North?" he pried.
"The accent, and the moody look on your face." I said with a laugh, offending Gerard and pushing him to leave.
Alone in the room I tried to think about what he meant by 'it would ruin me', obviously the prophecy wasn't going to be enjoyable for me, or those involved. The chance that my time would be limited brought me to think about what I wanted to do with myself.
I needed to become a healer, yet there were so many ailments that I hadn't cured. What about cancer? Or any internal things? Yet, how could I cure them without traversing the country in search of them, Something told me Saint Mungo's or any muggle hospitals would approve of my interference.
My wind wandered back to the nights previous. I had been my own subject, and cured numerous ailments. The thought was disturbing, indeed, but true. I could be in this room until the end of the war, which was now indefinite for the time being, so what did I have to lose?
I'd be doing something productive... I thought of Neville's disapproval, but he would never understand anyway. He always believe in the virtuous thing to do, no the quickest and best. Good doesn't mean best, bad doesn't mean worst. It was my body anyway.
"Look at you Neville, I'm worried about what you think when you aren't even here to listen." I laughed, staring at the wall opposite me as if he were there.
"I miss you. I mean," I added with a chuckle, "It's only been like... two days. But still. I could deal with being starved a lot easier if you were here."
I whispered, "Appear." and there he was. He was thin, and transparent, but there. He smiled perpetually, silent, yes, but there.
"I know you'd disapprove, but I really need you here for this." I whispered, hovering one hand over my belly.
"So many people will thank me." I shrugged, feeling the tumour grow and grow within me.
I soon grew breathless and felt myself coughing, the splatters of blood a sign of success. I had what felt like hundreds of medical, and so far all my symptoms were correct. Knowing it was there made it worse, accentuating it in my head. Rubbing my lungs I coped with the shortness of breath and tried to focus on Neville opposite me.
"Thanks for being here, spud. How’s the Dorm? I'm sorry about all this nonsense, but you would have stopped me." I continued, trying hard to ignore the feeling of other little growths spreading.
"I know, I know, I could cure it right now. But, I figure if it spreads through all of my body, I can have specific cures for the different kinds. Genius, ya see?" I laughed, coughing again.
"My little moral compass, where are you? You will rescue me, won't you? I want to pretend that I don't want you to save me, Nev, but I really want to see you."
The apparition remained silent, sometimes looking out the window at the grey, dementor filled skies, sometimes tapping his fingers silently against the ground. Shuffling across the ground I sat beside him, the lack of warmth disconcerting as I attempted to snuggle beside him.
"I love you, Nevvie." I whispered.
It must have been in my head, but I could have sworn he said he loved me back.
Semi-short chapter, I suppose.
Comment opinions, kind of glad to be back in Elysia’s shoes. More comfortable, don’t you think?
L