𝐒𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍; 𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫.

𝐱𝐱𝐢𝐢. 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

𝐏𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 𝐀𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚'𝐬 𝐫𝐢𝐛. She had not even spent one minute at Quidditch practice, and James had obviously approved of her absence. Normally, one couldn't skip his practices and remain unscathed, but there were clearly special circumstances to be considered. 

Poppy had provided her with a small amount of some nasty-smelling potion, and when Amara had wrinkled her nose in distaste, the mediwitch-in-training had only laughed and retreated to the office, promising a speedy return. 

She was true to her word; not five minutes later, she was back out. Amara watched her approach with a small, blue-tipped herb in hand.

"What's that you've got there?" Amara asked warily. In the Muggle world, a colorful plant such as that would generally suggest some kind of poison.

"Durnroot blooms," Poppy said cheerfully. "It'll help with the taste." She began to rip it up into shreds, letting them drop into the goblet. She glanced up at Amara. "You said this happened at Quidditch practice? You should've come straight here, instead of changing back into your uniform. I don't mind the sweat, I'd rather have you patched up and sweaty than clean and injured."

"I was covered in mud," Amara began, fiddling with the white sheets. "That would have been such a chore for you, Poppy."

"I'm a witch," Poppy said with a suppressed smile, grinding the plant up. "Few things are a chore for me."

"Like what?"

"Dishonest students," she said. 

Amara laughed and took the potion. She placed the glass goblet on the bedside table, placing her flat palm on the wise base of the cup. She swirled the liquid around, as if at a winery, and lifted it, swirling it again. Poppy scoffed in amused disbelief when she tilted the goblet horizontally, inspecting the potion. Finally, she drank it all in one gulp. 

"Excellent," she said, reveling in the floral taste. It was far from the sour, bitter, rancid concoction she'd expected. "You should make more of that, I like it."

"Unfortunately, that's all you need." Poppy gave her a small smile and began to clean the things up. 

"Why did you choose Healing?" Amara blurted. Her face reddened. 

Poppy paused and raised an eyebrow. "I wanted to make a difference, I suppose. Have you got an interest yourself?"

Amara hesitated. "I'm not sure. It's just...well, do you like it?"

"So far." The mediwitch waved her wand, Vanishing the goblet and the small, now emptied bottle. "It's scary, but it's fulfilling."

Amara was still fumbling with her words. She was not quite used to figuring her business out for herself; rarely she could choose her own itinerary as far as her time spent in her Muggle home went. She always had something to attend, a class to complete, an expectation to fulfill. 

Poppy, however, did not press. "If you ever wanted to come and watch, maybe..." she lowered her voice, "when I'm treating Master Remus...well, you'd be welcome to sit in. Sound good?"

That was Amara's favorite thing about Poppy. Upon her arrival, she'd been informed by Dumbledore of Remus's condition, and had opened up the Hospital Wing for him to use whenever he needed. She was tight-lipped, never spilling his secret. But more importantly, she never treated him differently for it, which was rare. 

However, like Dumbledore, she did not know they were illegal Animagi.

Amara was itching for a flight. She could only hope she was healed up soon enough to fly that night.