The Wandmaker

The Something

CHAPTER            t w e l v e

She had just left the hall when it happened - her something.

Everyone else, to the best of her knowledge, was still in the hall, waiting for the desserts to appear on the golden plates. The janitor, who Symbida wasn't sure actually existed, was the only person that could be roaming the halls, and even that was certainly unlikely.

She had taken three steps before her left pinky began to tingle, and for every next step it seemed to spread, climbing her arm to her shoulder and rippling across her body like a wildfire. It wasn't causing harm, but it was excruciating. Symbida tucked into herself and gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to scream at the top of her lungs, her whole body shaking.

For a few seconds it seemed to subside, and she tried to unfold, but then it came crashing back down again with the force of a freight train.

She had no hope of fighting it.

In a dream state, Symbida saw herself snap and some strange kind of magic take a hold of her. Her body sprinted down the corridor, only the banging of her wand in her pocket keeping her tethered. She ran and ran and ran, so fast it seemed inhuman, so fast the ground blurred and her robes whipped and stung her skin. It was surreal - she was not in control of her body, this strange magic pushing her to an unknown destination.

For what felt like eons she sprinted, till her legs burned with fatigue too great to comprehend. Till her throat burned with dehydration, scratching every shaking breath she drew. Till her eyes stung with tears that she couldn't cry. Till she thought, without a doubt, that she was going to die. Till she threw her last efforts into stopping, only to be thrown tumbling head first down a gravelly hill that scratched and grazed every inch of skin it could reach.

Then, and only then, did it stop.

It was silent. Symbida sat in a grassy ditch, tears finally making tracks down her face and dripping onto her battered shoes. Her body was shaking so much that her breaths came in huge jagged gasps. Her legs were jelly-like, her whole body cut and bruised. Breathe in. A huge gulp of cool air. Her ribs hurt terribly from expanding her chest. And out. An expulsion of air through her nose and trembling mouth. In. Her heart was still hammering at a million miles a minute. Out. Every breath tore through her dry throat. Her eyes were still leaking tears. In. Out. In. Out. Slowly her breathing slowed from gasps to deep breaths.

Her mouth moved in shapes of words, trying to make some sense of the scariest event in her life, but all that came out was a quiet whimper.

Okay, stop. Gather yourself, Symbida.

She painstakingly unfolded every aching limb and lay back against the hill. On the horizon, the sun was sinking. There was no moon, but the stars and galaxies were beginning to find their light. In her exhaustion, she just lay and stared as they grew brighter as the sun sank, until there was only her and the stars.

One pair of stars caught her attention, right near the horizon. They burned a brilliant emerald, seemingly brighter than every other star in the sky. Wait... emerald?

A rustle from above the ditch made her freeze and her heart crescendoed with adrenaline again. No, not now, just leave me be, she all but begged in her mind. In a flash, the two starry points blinked off and with only a soft swish their owner was gone too.

Her limbs aching so fiercely that they felt as though they'd fall off, unconsciousness washed over her like a crashing wave and tugged her into its depths.

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Rising to consciousness sharply, Symbida stirred and snapped open her eyes. A brief assessment of her surroundings told her little more than it was still dark. Slowly, feeling began to seep back into her body. Knowing she couldn't stay there forever, Symbida placed her hands into the ground and gradually pushed to her feet, each movement aching a muscle she didn't know existed until that point. She moved her aching neck from side to side and slowly peered through the night.

There was no buildings in sight. A dilapidated cobblestone street ran across, and a dull and greying sign pointed up it, declaring 'Hogsmeade'. That's the way to go, she mused, and set off at a shuffling pace. Every step was agony, but she could not afford to stop, especially after seeing those ominous pinpricks of green in the dark. Perhaps they were merely fireflies, but in the same way that when swimming in the ocean one does not hang around to see whether an approaching fin belongs to a shark or to a dolphin, she was not going to wait and see whether the emerald pinpricks were the eyes of something more sinister than some iridescent insects.

Luck, for once that day, was in her favour. As she neared the crest of the hill, a small cluster of buildings came into view. Almost weeping with joy, she half ran, half stumbled down the incline on the other side if the hill.

Luck was snatched back from literally under her feet as near the base, a loose cobblestone caught her foot and she went flying. As she landed, there was a sickening crunch and hot tendrils of pain began to radiate from her right arm.

This was the final straw. She screamed with all the might she had left, letting out all the agony pent up inside her. Drawing the very-likely-to-be-broken arm to her chest, she sobbed and sobbed her heart out as her vision sunk into black.

That was not the something I had been holding out for, Symbida thought, as unconsciousness overwhelmed her yet again. That was something nasty and mysterious and malicious.

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Shuffling footsteps. Rough cobblestones digging into her side. Piercing cold. Faint light through her eyelids. A cough, now. Footsteps becoming louder, closer. Symbida struggled to open her eyes but they remained resolutely shut - exhaustion was in charge.

Brighter light. Footsteps stilling right by her head. A gentle nudge to her shoulder. Pain. Another nudge. Greater pain. A rough hand on her wrist. Pain like lightning up her arm. Muscles pulling her into a ball. Footsteps retreat then return. Gruff mumbling. The cough of a old soul. Arms scooping her up. Blinding pain. Darkness.

Creaking stairs. Shuffling footsteps. The smell of old books and boxes, with a hint of black tea. Faint light through eyelids. A warm blanket. A faintly familiar cough. Footsteps becoming louder, closer. A rough hand on her forehead. Incoherent mumbling. Darkness.

:D Edited 22/11/2020.