T'is but a Scratch PV Closed

Alma faintly remembered having read a rule of something akin to 'no running in the halls' as she bodily flung herself around yet another narrow corner before taking off in yet another sprint. Her lungs were burning and the stitch in her side really was rather annoying, yet she kept running as if the devil was after her. She nearly stumbled over her own feet as she tried taking the stairs two steps at a time and while someone would bring her to her destination in the unfortunate event she broke her neck on one of these fickle, sentient pieces of architecture, Alma forced herself to climb them at a normal, nearly civilised speed. Really, why did the Slytherin common room have to be so far away from the hospital wing? That just seemed immensely impractical! But then again, Gryffindor probably had the most right to be located close to the hospital wing...

Alma wheezed pathetically as she arrived at the floor she needed to be at. She really needed to work on her stamina. At least she had enough time to catch her breath until she reached the large double-winged doors to the hospital wing not to sound quite so terrible; less like a dying kneazle and more like an actual person that was simply very out of breath.

Opening one of the doors, Alma carefully peered inside. She never minded hospitals and the like too much, they were there for her own benefit, after all, but knowing that her first (and more or less only) friend had been injured enough to be rushed into this place...was making her queasy, to say the least. And really, that queasiness only grew at the sight of her friend lying in her bed, wrapped in yards worth of bandages and covered in pastes of different colours.

"Well," Alma began, grinning at her friend to downplay her own nervousness. "Whom shall I hex?"

Alma slipped inside the large room when she saw the nurse look at her with a clear expression of judgement before turning away, giving Alma the indirect sign that her presence, while not appreciated, at least was tolerated. For the time being. Alma dragged a chair close to the bed Marcia was lying in, looking at her friend up close. Most of the bandages were wrapped around her throat, giving Alma an idea of the seriousness of the girl's injury. Those injuries were never fun.

"What happened? One minute I'm in the common room, trying to stare a hole into the windows and the next there are rumors flying around about a bunch of first years being attacked somewhere on school grounds and you being injured and taken into the hospital wing. You shaved years off my life expectancy, you know?"

Alma tried to mimic her mother's disapproving look that she'd give Alma whenever she'd gone and done something particularly stupid. It didn't last long however, and Alma soon let loose a relieved giggle at the knowledge that her friend seemed to be on the way of recovery.

She only had a few minutes of peace, when she heard angry footsteps. First she thought the nurse would come to look at her, give her something to drink at the very least. Then the curtains were drawn back and almost immediately the voice of Alma could be heard, yelling at her for being injured. Her voice sounded far too loud in Marcia's ears; however that also could just be an imagination, caused from all the drugs that had to be in her system.

She could only barely move her head to where Alma stood, but she managed to twist her mouth to a faint grin. To see Alma made her already feel ... not better, her body still fucking hurt with every breath. However, after being surrounded by nothing but strangers, it finally made her feel at ease. Especially since Alma clearly was worried about Marcia. 

"Hngpuff," she attempted to answer Alma's not so serious question about whom to hex, but her throat was too dry and swollen. She moved her mouth, but she could barely get some syllables out. Finally she gave up. "Hi." At least she could say that.

She wanted to ask more about the rumors, and how long she had been here in the hospital wing, but her voice wouldn't work. It couldn't be too long since the incident, though, since her bandages were too fresh. Instead of asking questions she had to settle for grinning at Alma and giving her a thumb up with her right hand which was lying on the sheets. 

Nevertheless she had to wonder what the school was already tattling about. Most of it probably was lies or at least half-truths, poshing up the reality. The thought of chatting students who would gossip viciously about every detail during dinner made her anxious. Frustrated she pressed her lips and clenched her teeth while she still tried to swallow. This sucked.

Edric was concerned. Of course he'd heard about the fight between students down at the Quidditch Pitch, but everything he know was more or less rumors. Someone had said something about a masked man, the guy who had been appearing inside Hogwarts for months now. Students had fought him, or he had attacked them. Then he'd overheard two seventh year Slytherins saying the masked guy wasn't a man but a Gryffindor student. That sounded ridiculous and Edric didn't really believe it.

The fought of a masked man attacking students however scared him a lot. He knew some spells, but Edric had seen his brothers mock-duelling and even that was years beyond anything he could do. The only thing he could have done in that situation was to run away and hope that he was faster than the attacker. The thought alone scared him even more and if he'd had the chance he'd stayed as far away from all of this as possible... but there was a problem. Marcia was missing. She hadn't been in her dorm for days.

Edric was a smart lad. There had been a fight and his friend was missing. He knew where to look, which was why he was now standing in front of the door to the hospital wing, wringing his hands.

He didn't have the stomach for carnage, not at all. Cuts and bruises, sure, no problem, but broken bones frightened him ever since he'd fallen from the top of a fence, rolled down the steep hill below and broken his leg in the process when he'd been eight. Since then the thought alone made him queasy.

Marcia was his friend. It was his duty as a good friend to check on her, especially if she had been attacked by a crazy person with a mask - but bravery was easier imagined than done. Edric wished to be more like Harry and Adair, to be daring and bold. They could be bullied, but at least they weren't afraid.

Slowly he raised his shaking fist, pressing his eyes closed forcefully and knocking quickly before he could think different on it. Nothing happened. Opening his eyes a bit he knocked again, swallowing hard. Still nothing.

The silence did nothing to alleviate his dread. What if Marcia was alone in there because they had forgotten about her? What if she was crying and in pain? He didn't think that Marcia would ever cry, because she was a really strong person, but the mental image stayed with him. He couldn't abandon her. What lousy friend would he be if he turned around now and fled?

Edric bit his lip and gripped the door handle, pushing it down and opening the huge oaken door in one swift movement. With two fast steps he was inside the hospital wing, closing the door behind him. Then he turned back around to face the room, expecting the worst.

There was girl with dark hair standing beside one of the beds. He needed a moment to realize that it was their friend Alma, and another to understand that the person lying in the bed in front of her was Marcia.

"He-" he stammered, "Hello."

Without actually wanting to he walked closer, his hazel eyes taking in Marcia, who looked sick and hurt as she lay inside the huge hospital bed. He stopped beside Alma, unsure what to say or do.

"Hey Marcia, are you alright?" he finally mumbled, hiding his hands behind his back for them not to see that they were still shaking madly.

Just as she had managed some words of greeting...or one word of greeting, the curtains once again opened. A small boy, his eyes wide in shock, joined them in their little private round. It was Edric. 

Marcia lifted her fingers in the attempt of waving at him, welcoming him. She was glad to not only have Alma, but Edric as well. He would have been a better asset than any Hufflepuff, she thought with a wink. Was she alright? Definetly not. Every movement hurt but the worst was the pain in her chest which made it almost impossible to speak.

With a smile she shook her head in small movements from left to right, indicating that she meant No. No, she didn't feel good, but she was so happy to see her friends.

"Sit," she coughed and patted her hand on the sheet. Although she couldn't see her whole environment, she guessed that there were no chairs. Or at least not enough for both of them. They were standing while she just laid there, looking up to them in hopes to hear more from these rumors.

Her mind was beginning to be fully awake and with it she became aware of her whole body. She could now clearly feel an annoying throb chaping in her shoulder and throat. She could feel and hear it, once the three of them went silent. Now she had a second reason to wish the others would talk to her. It didn't matter what they would say, she just felt better and less broken, with them being here, talking about their day. Marcia would listen to anything, what they did for their homework. Someone needs to take care of my plants, she thought, while she patted the sheets a second time. She would ask Alma to look after the plants in her dorm, but for now she just needed company. 

Alma hummed in thought at Marcia's order to take a seat. She'd rather not sit on the bed and risk bumping into one of her probably many injuries; Marcia seemed to be in enough discomfort already. Still, as Alma looked around, she found very few alternatives. For a hospital wing, it certainly lacked chairs and the like for visitors to sit on. Maybe it was a subtle hint to not bother the patients?

Alma believed to remember her brother occasionally writing her about the former matron of the Hospital Wing. Ever the Gryffindor, her brother had landed in one of these beds on numerous occasions, and he'd learned about the strict woman that she disliked visitors. The general rule apparently was that either you were too injured to have visitors, or not injured enough.

Still, Alma would have preferred to have found at least a single chair in this room. In the end she ignored Marcia's invitation, leaving the spot for Edric to sit on, should be choose to do so.

"So," she began. "The rumors of how you found yourself this injured are already spreading through Slytherin, in case you wanted to know. I believe someone was actually starting a betting pool on whether or not you got attacked by a swarm of angry doxies, fell down one of our marvelous moving stairs or battled a new dark lord. Also, almost dying apparently doesn't exempt you from handing in homework, according to the higher years, so I'll try and produce notes on the classes that are at least somewhat legible. Then again..."

Alma trailed off, glancing over to Edric. "Edric here might be better suited for this task? I only know that my trains of thought often aren't exactly comprehensible, so I don't know whether or not my notes would actually be of much use here. How long are they even keeping you here for? Show a number with your hands if you can, you don't have to speak on my account. Merlin knows I can talk for two..."

Marcia didn't look good at all. Now that he was close Edric could see that her whole shoulder and neck were wraped tightly in bandages. Her eyes looked a bit unfocused; she had to be in a lot of pain. Heck, she couldn't speak or move properly. Even simply lying on a bed and staying awake seemed to be really taxing on her.

Now he felt even more sick then before, and when Alama ignored Marcia's offer to take a seat on her bed - why were there no chairs? Shouldn't hte hospital wing have chair for vistiors? - he slow took the few steps needed and carefully sat down on the edge of the mattress. If he'd been thinking clearly he might have remained standing, but right now his legs felt like jelly. His hands were still shaking. He couldn't take his eyes off Marcia's prone form on the bed beside him.

Someone had hurt his friend. Edric was scared. Scared because Marcia could have died, because a person he cared about had been hurt so badly she could only lie in bed unmoving... but somewhere inside of him, hidden deeply behind the fear, there was a spark, too, a spark that felt hot and heavy. The knowledge that someone had attacked Marcia, had cast hexes at his friend, made him angry. Somehow however the feeling made him even more afraid.

He was glad that Alma was doing most of the talking for now and he only had to listen. How the other students could place bets on something as serious as Marcia being injured was beyond him. they were of the same house, they should be worried, not joking around.

"Uh... notes, yes," he mumbled unintelligently when Alma adressed him, needing a few moments to catch up on what she'd been saying. "Yes, I have notes, of course. I could bring them down here, but you don't look like you should be doing any homework, honestly."

It was easy to leave the rest of the talking to Alma again, who was obviously a lot better in dealing with this than he was. Edric really wasn't made for fights, even the aftermath of one. He hated fighting. It only got people hurt.

She listened while Alma burst out some sentences, thankfull to have something to listen to, and glanced over to Edric once in a while. He was white as her sheet and visibly uncomfortable being here. Still he took the seat, all to careful, at the end of her bed. He didn't touch her and all she felt was a faint movement. It made her proud to see him, shy as ever, keeping it up. 

Suddenly she heard something about doxies and her eyes went over to Alma. Wait- What did she say?

She tried to make her stop, to repeat her last sentence but it was too late. At least the context became clear the more she listened. So people were gossiping already, although she couldn't explain why the others would think she had been battling some wild doxies. Well, ok she would have preferred some wild doxies. She swallowed hard. "Ngh. Funny." She celebrated silently. It was at least one word someone could understand, although it lacked the sarcasm.

Alma's speech went on and Marcia just had to smile, occasionally glancing over to Edric, who still was awkwardly silent. He looked as if he needed someone to hug him and Marcia would have been happy to be that someone. They both, however, reacted once again to what Alma said. 

Homework? I was sliced open and they expect me to do homework? I bet Mr Potter never had to do his homework. He was in here for weeks and people had brought him sweets and Chocolate Frogs and all kinds of gifts. But no, we normal students need to do our homework. 

She couldn't say all those things, so her thoughts spun in her head, making her wonder at the same time, if Mr Potter had been here in this very bed after one of his daring adventures. Had she just experienced one adventure as well?

"Here?" was her only reaction to the question Alma had been asking her. She couldn't say how long she was supposed to be her. Merlin, she just had woken up and hadn't seen any nurse so far. 

NPC: Finlay Vancleaf, Hogwarts Nurse

“Sometimes I feel I’ve got to... run away,” Fin muttered under his breath, flipping through the chart with one hand while he drummed the desk with his pencil. “I’ve got to… get away from the pain you drive into the heart of me.” He continued humming as he scanned the results of the blood work, nodding in satisfaction at all of the levels being back up to normal. It was a pain to ship blood out but what could you do when the measuring tools were all muggle technology? Certainly not anything quick, that was for sure.

Tossing the chart across his desk in a flurry of papers that suddenly went everywhere, he let out a long sigh and passed a hand across his face. Were students really being attacked in what was supposed to be a secure school? That certainly complicated things; usual injuries were being hit with bludgers or punched in the face. Sports and bullies, things universal even to muggle schools. A young girl being sliced up by an unknown assailant? That was the kind of thing you read about in the paper that happened in back alleyways in a bad part of town. Not here.

Acutely uncomfortable with the entire thing, Finlay stood and shoved it to the back of his mind. “...Tainted love!” he continued with his song after a moment, strumming an air guitar as he made his way over to the bed he’d placed one Marcia Kingsleigh in, close enough that he could keep an eye on her while giving her some privacy with her friends. With a flourish that would make eighties pop stars proud, he pulled the curtain to reveal the Slytherin and a couple of friends.

“Hello everyone,” he said with nods and a comforting smile to the lot of them before turning his full attention on Marcia, assessing her skin colour as he spoke. “My name is Finlay and I’m your nurse for today. How are you feeling, Marcia? And would you mind telling me where we are and what the date is today?” Naturally he needed to find out more about the assailant, but his first course of business was making sure she was alright and oriented enough to talk about it.