"I write her a letter
just a few short lines,
and suffer death
a thousand times."
Asteria O'Connor, sole heir of a prestigious wizarding family,
has other plans when the self-proclaimed Marauders decide to
torment her and her housemates.
It's abo...
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I know that I don't do trigger warnings before the beginning of chapters anymore but the story is about to become more intense so please go back to the first page and read the trigger warnings again before you continue.
aster
I sit up straighter on the hospital bed as I watch the dark gold liquid move and squirm in it's own container. It laps against the sides of the glass as if it were waves during tide movement. I try to hold in my vomit.
"You sure this is the right potion?" I question hopefully. "There's not like a nice pink one that tastes like chocolate or anything?"
Madame Pomfrey shakes her head curtly. "A Memory Potion is the only thing that will do the job. It's taken three days for Professor Slughorn and a handful of his trusted apprentices to make sure that it's perfect. It also didn't help that nobody informed him that the supplies of Jobberknoll feathers were running low."
"Poppy, I'm sure I'll be grand. If it works then whoopie but if not then it's not the end of the world."
She gives me a stern look. "Just because you are so willing to disregard your wellbeing does not mean that others do too. You might not want to think so but there are people here who care about you. You are aware of that, aren't you? You may be a pain to treat and complain too much but I am fond of you, dear. As is Minerva."
Speak of Merlin, in walks McGonagall. Her footsteps echo off the tall ceiling and back again. The Transfiguration teacher gives me a small nod of acknowledgment accompanied by a hopeful half-smile before turning to her colleague. The two witches begin talking amongst themselves as I take the strange liquid in my hand, turning it upside down to watch the gloopy substance. Only then does it click.
I almost die.
As do the women opposite me when I let out an unexpected gasp. Their necks both turn sharply forward. With questioning and concerned looks they search my face, only to find it filled with glee. To prove my epiphany, I look to their hands that must have connected unbeknownst to them in their split second worry.
"It's you!" They let go quickly when I begin to point. McGonagall tells me to lower my tone in reference to my health but I couldn't be less concerned. "You're the one she's been letting into her restricted section! Oh this is brilliant." I let out a lighthearted chuckle.
"Miss O'Connor, it is highly inappropriate to be discussing the relationship between two of your superiors." I press my lips together which does nothing to prevent the evident joy across my face. "Not that I am confirming any suspicions that you may have. Let it be known that I can always hand out a weeks work of detentions whenever I see fit."
"For what?!"
"Vandalising the halls on the sixth floor."
I look to her incredulously. "I haven't done that."
