Finished Solitary PV Bridget Collins Part 1

Thora shot an anxious glance at Bridget--she was obviously worried about her journal. The redhead froze, glancing at the Whomping Willow. It was no secret that it was a very violent object, and it was quite obvious to the first year, watching the branches whip back and forth. How could she get the sketchbook back? Thora grimaced as she imagined herself in the other Slytherin's situation. If some random... cat thing had stolen her journal, boy would she be mad. Although the redhead knew it was probably a stupid idea to run headlong straight into the branches of the tree, she needed to prove herself. 

"I need your help figuring out how to get my sketchbook back," Bridget murmured to Thora in response to her earlier question. The auburn-haired Slytherin nodded in response, but had barely registered what the other girl said. Narrowing her pale green-gray eyes, Thora let out several long breaths. She had to do this. It's not just for selfish reasons, the redhead had to repeat in her head, trying to convince herself of the verity of the statement. 

Yes, Thora wanted to earn Bridget's respect and trust--even begin a friendship, maybe. The redhead found herself friendless, having barely talked to a soul, after an entire year at the wizarding school--no small feat. The short brown-haired Slytherin standing at her side seemed nice--Thora would love to be her friend, as they also had similar interests. 

Stop, Thora had to tell herself. It was nice daydreaming, but there was a dire situation at hand. Not only did she want the brunette as a friend--the redhead genuinely wanted to help--she would be livid if the situation had happened to her. 

Lowering her head, Thora sprinted towards the tree. The good thing was, she was light and nimble--maybe she wouldn't get hit. The redhead knew it was highly, highly impossible, but she tried to stay optimistic. Mere inches away from the dangerous branches, Thora braced herself for the painful lashes. 

Pain shot through her small body as the thick branches whacked her everywhere--on her face, arms, body, legs. Thora fell, almost unable to move. Still conscious, but with a dull throb in her ankle, a small wooden knob in hidden deep in the roots of the tree caught her attention. Grabbing it, Thora shoved it forward. Maybe this was where the mysterious cat had disappeared--after all, she had seen the tip of its tail seemingly disappear down into the roots of the tree. The redhead clutched her ankle. Hopefully, Bridget would make her way down to help. 

Apparently Thora had a very different idea of what would work in terms of retrieving the sketchbook. Randomly charging at the tree was the first thing Bridget had ruled out. The action was at once incredibly brave and selfless and ridiculously stupid. But Thora was doing this to help her and there was no way Bridget was just going to watch her get pummeled.

Before she ran at this tree of death (Bridget really liked trees, but for the first time she had something against one--seriously, why was this tree on campus?), she wondered if there was anything she could do that would give them an advantage or at the very least a chance. Then the idea popped into her brain and she couldn't believe she hadn't thought of it earlier. She could cast Spongify at the tree! True, it might not work, but it was worth a shot.

Whipping the laurel wand out of her sheath-like pocket attached to her belt, Bridget yelled "Spongify!" and ran in after the other snake. At first the spell worked, and the branches Bridget failed to dodge slapped against her like a wall of water, leaving her skin bright red but otherwise unharmed. Quickly though, the effects wore off and the arm-like branches created criss-crosses of scratches and bruises.

Out of the corner of her eye, Bridget saw a large, knobby limb hurtling towards her, but there was no time to get out of the way. She had only time to register how ugly things were about to get before the branch slammed into her... except she didn't feel anything. Wondering if she had been killed on impact, her eyes slowly opened. In front of her, so close that she went cross-eyed, was the bough, completely frozen. A cursory inspection showed the whole tree to be immobilized.

Coming to her wits, Bridget hurriedly got out of the way in case the tree started throttling again, rushing towards Thora. The redhead had reached the tree and now sat slumped against it. She appeared alright albeit a pattern of cuts and brownish bruises decorating her pale skin, when Bridget's hazel eyes landed on the girl's ankle. The ankle seemed bent a bit out of shape and was quickly turning a shade of purple. Was it broken? She would need medical attention...

Why had the tree stopped moving? Perhaps all you had to do was reach the trunk, but if it was that easy, could they have thrown a stone at it? But then again, this was the magical world, so who knew what had happened.

For a moment, Bridget wondered what she was doing in the range of the Whomping Willow, so immersed by questions about the tree and the horrible state of Thora's angle, but one word crossed her mind: sketchbook. She darted over to the little cave the cat-thing had disappeared into... but it wasn't a crevice as she had thought. It was a tunnel that disappeared beyond her line of sight. The cat was nowhere to be seen--maybe it had traveled to wherever the passage came out. Excitement flooded into the first year. Who knew where the tunnel led--somewhere interesting no doubt. Curiosity made her tingly and she almost rushed headlong into the passage; she was so eager to see where it led.

But Thora was injured and in pain and there was no telling how long the Whomping Willow would stay still. Her eyes strayed downward. Lying in the dirt was her sketchbook, the source of all the chaos that had just unfolded. Picking up the leather-bound item that was thankfully unscathed, she, with quite a bit of difficulty, tore herself away from the tunnel entrance. In fact, if she hadn't promised herself that she would explore the passage one day, she doubted she would have been able to leave at all.

"I need to get you to the Hospital Wing," she told Thora. That much was obvious. She helped Thora to her feet and half-carried the girl away from the tree, going as quickly as she could in case the tree attacked them again.

Finally, they reached the safety of the castle. "I'll go back for our other things later," she muttered, half to Thora and half to herself. She didn't think anyone would take their bookbags. Also, the hallways were blissfully empty, providing an easy route through the hallways and no one asking questions. Everyone was either in the Great Hall or their Common Rooms.

What worried Bridget most was getting Thora to the Hospital Wing, which of course had to be on the Third Floor, meaning they'd have to go up stairs, something she wasn't sure Thora's ankle could handle.

As they arrived at the foot of the staircase, Bridget stopped. "Can you make it up? I think I could levitate your ankle, but moving it might hurt."

[font=Book Antiqua]Trying to ignore the throbbing pain in her foot, the redhead sat up. She cringed as she watched Bridget try to use Spongify on the tree branches. It seemed to work, although the brunette was left with angry-looking red welts on her arms, which thankfully, mostly faded into her skin.

Thora opened her mouth, but the "Watch out!" never made it out of her mouth. A huge, gnarled limb that was obviously heavy headed Bridget's way.... knocking into her... this really wasn't the time for Bridget to get knocked out as well... Suddenly, the entire tree stopped moving, the branches frozen as if a spell had literally fallen over them. The redhead let out a huge breath that she hadn't known she was holding. Was it Bridget's Spongify? Well, now wasn't the time to find out...

Her brown-haired savior came rushing towards her, avoiding the frozen branches. "I'm fine..." Thora croaked out. After all, it wasn't a lie. Yes, her ankle hurt, but after all, it could be worse. Now that the threat of the moment was over, the redhead realized the two girls were pretty lucky... getting out with mostly cuts and bruises...

Trying not to hold her ankle, Thora watched as the brunette ran over to the tunnel she had previously found, peering inside. Thankfully, the leather-bound book was lying there in the dirt, waiting for its owner. The redhead saw Bridget's wistful look and could tell she wanted to explore the tunnel, to find the other end, but instead turned to help Thora. 

"I need to get you to the Hospital Wing," the brunette said. "Yeah, thanks," Thora said weakly. She was grateful that Bridget actually cared about her, especially her ankle. "I'll go back for our other things later," the other girl continued as the pair reached the cold, dark castle. "Okay, thanks," the redhead said again. They made awkward progress towards the staircase, Bridget continuing to half-carry, half-drag the slightly smaller redhead. 

"Can you make it up? I think I could levitate your ankle, but moving it might hurt." Bridget asked as they reached the staircase. "Um, I think so," Thora answered, gingerly resting her injured foot on the ground. Grabbing onto the banister, she awkwardly hopped up the stairs. "Thanks for helping me, Bridget," Thora turned towards the other Slytherin. Bridget had obviously gone a long ways to help her, and she could, at the very least, thank her. 

Hobbling up stair after stair, the redhead continued to clutch the edge with white-knuckled hands. It seemed like an eternity until the two Slytherins reached the top. An eternity of a throbbing pain--the girl was trying not to move it so it wouldn't hurt so much. Glancing at her right foot, she grimaced. Her ankle had turned an ugly purple and swollen to more than twice its size. It was bent a little to the side, which kind of worried the redhead. Thora inwardly reprimanded herself for doing something so reckless...

But then, as they approached the Hospital Wing's door, all the way on the fourth floor, Thora turned to Bridget? How would they explain themselves? Obviously, students probably weren't allowed around the Whomping Willow. "Bridget, what are we going to say to the nurse?" Thora asked hesitantly in a low voice, lest someone here them. "We obviously can't say we were at the Whomping Willow..." the girl trailed off as the reality of the situation hit her.[/font]

Somehow they made it up the stairs. It was a painfully slow endeavor, but they managed. Thora had such a tight grip on the railing that her knuckles turned white. Her ankle looked awful, but Bridget noted that she was able to put weight on it. She wasn't positive, but Bridget thought that meant Thora hadn't actually broken it. Either that or the redhead had a very high pain tolerance.

Bridget was still thinking about what the injured snake had said to her at the start of the staircases. Thora had thanked her sincerely, but the brunette didn't think she'd earned that gratitude. She'd done what anyone would do if someone who had helped them was hurt. In fact, Bridget had almost not assisted her. No, she'd very nearly forgotten about her comrade and raced down a tunnel without any clue what she would find.

As they made their way down the corridor to the Hospital Wing, Thora voiced a question Bridget wanted to kick herself for not thinking. What would they tell the nurse? The nurse was probably all too used to students sporting injuries from random magical incidents, but they weren't supposed to have been at the Whomping Willow. They had a decent excuse, but they'd probably still be docked House Points or land themselves in detention.

Bridget started racing through possibilities in her mind. If this day had proved anything, it was that she wasn't as good at coming up with solutions as she had thought. She could produce several very reasonable explanations for Thora's ankle, but what about the scrapes and bruises scoring their arms and legs that would be in plain sight?

"We need to come up with something to explain your ankle along with all the cuts and bruises. Try to stick with what actually happened as much as possible, excluding the Willow, of course," she whispered back, although it wasn't as if someone would overhear them; the hallways were completely devoid of other people.

"Whatever we come up with, I'll do the lying. And if anything goes wrong, I take the blame, alright?" After all, she was a rather good liar, but she didn't mention it because it certainly wouldn't encourage Thora to trust her. Bridget could keep a straight face when fibbing and her give--she made much more frequent eye contact--went completely unnoticed unless you knew her well enough. And after Thora had rushed at the Whomping Willow and injured her ankle to rescue Bridget's sketchbook, there was no way the hazel-eyed girl would let her get in trouble. It wasn't noble--no, it was just being fair. Her sketchbook, her problem. Thora had done more than enough already, and besides, she still needed help coming up with an excuse.

Ideas ran frantically through Thora's mind as she heard Bridget repeat her general guidelines for their lie. The brunette even offered to take the blame. Had Thora been in better shape, she would've protested against it--it was equally her fault how she had recklessly ran into the sentient tree. 

"Okay, breathe, Thora," the first year whispered to herself as she kept racking her brain. For her ankle, she could've tripped over a root or something, highly plausible because honestly, the girl was bound to trip over something as often as a few times a day. As for their scratches. Fight? No, if they had gotten into a fight, they would've gotten detention. They obviously couldn't say they strayed too close to the Whomping Willow and gotten scratched. The two girls would probably get a good scolding for that too. 

Then she remembered the rosebushes growing by the Great Lake. Although their buds were beautifully colored and perfectly intricate, the thorns on their stems were wickedly sharp. Falling into one would be horribly painful, but it would, without a doubt, create countless scratches--much like the ones crisscrossing the Slytherins' arms and legs. She hated lying to anyone--even a nurse at the Hospital Wing--but it had to be done. 

Turning to Bridget, she glanced around, keeping her voice low even though there wasn't a single soul in sight. "I think we should say..." she stumbled, "I think we should say we were comparing drawings or something and we accidentally tripped into rosebushes or something." She smiled--they did both like to draw or paint. "And then--I was hopping on one foot because I scratched the other leg badly and stepped on a root and then I tripped and fell and sprained my ankle..." she said, all in one breath. "How does that sound?" the redhead finished, hobbling pitifully towards the Hospital Wing door, now merely a few meters away from the two girls. 

Luckily Thora had ideas where Bridget did not. She thought the excuse sounded pretty good, although she might change a few things--the whole hopping on one foot and then tripping part in particular, as it seemed like a bit much. She could reduce it to tripping and it should still be plenty convincing. The bit about the rosebushes was definitely ingenious though. The nurse had likely had students coming in with all sorts of stupid injuries, so accidentally veering off into the thorns when they weren't looking where they were going would be plenty believable.

The Hospital Wing's doors grew larger and larger as they got closer to what could end up as a complete train wreck. At long last the brunette reached out an imperceptibly shaking hand for the brass knob of the double doors. Taking a deep breath, she turned to Thora.

"Just try to not look too guilty," she said with a small grin. She could handle this just fine, but she didn't want the redhead to become conscience-stricken and give them away, not that she would. From what Bridget had observed, Thora was definitely smart enough to understand what they were about to do. It was just a reminder.

3, 2, 1... And with that, she turned the handle and stepped inside.