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"what breaks in daybreak?
is it the night? is it the sun,
cracked in two by the horizon like an egg, spilling out light?"
･:*:･ﾟ★,‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾
💫 🔭 🕊
⸻"MUM? TELL ME SOMETHING I DON'T KNOW."
The sun hadn't risen yet, yet the Janus Thickey Ward was stirring. The glow of the sunrise shimmered against the windows in St. Mungos Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, a stark contrast to the atmosphere in the hospital ward. Ara Winger-Black draped herself over the armchair in the corner, staring quietly at the person lying comatose in the hospital bed.
Vivian Winger laid completely still, eyes gazing into the abyss - the living version of a human corpse. The darks of her eyes wandered around the room as she mumbled to herself, soft cries leaving her lips. Torture and a curse, the Healers had told her, once she was old enough to understand what the words "coma", "torture" and "blood malediction" had meant. Once she turned six and had started asking after her mother, a group of Healers sat her down and recounted the events of October 30th, 1981. The retelling of the story was still engraved fresh into her mind, for Avada Kedava and the curse did not mix well together.
The Winger family curse - the curse that wouldn't make her life worth living. A powerful curse ran so deep through the Winger family that the more deadly aspect of the malediction would always haunt her forever. She didn't know when it would come into effect, but there it was, laughing. A constant reminder that she would never be tethered to the wings of freedom; that she would never fly free.
"Do you think that I'll be like you one day?" Ara paused, twisting her fingers together. "I wish that I was more like you."
Looking up, she glanced around the ward, watching the patients go about their daily routines. Ara had watched them so many times that she had them completely memorised. In two minutes, her former DADA professor, Lockhart, would start organising his pile of fan mail, and Ms Longbottom would float around the room and hand out empty sweet wrappers to the visitors just as her husband, Frank, would wake up. As she calmly scanned her surroundings, she twisted the sweet wrapper in her hands, the smell of bubblegum and artificial sweeteners coating her hands. As she watched the sun slowly rise from the window next to the hospital bed, her thoughts drifted to the upcoming year at Hogwarts. Ara sighed. She would have to start packing soon.
"Ara?" Healer Strout gently tapped her on the shoulder. "Your visiting hours are up - we're returning to the orphanage now. I'll give you a second to say goodbye, alright? I'll wait out here."
