Alix's wound had healed days ago. Silver which burned the flesh and dittany which soothed the burn had been the only feeling Alix was aware of as the healers at St. Mungo's treated her. Some of the healers rushed about urgently, focused on the matter at hand, but as Alix's pain began to subside, and she became more and more aware of the world around her, she began to see the looks of horror and pity on some of the other healers as they realized what had befallen her.
Now, physically, Alix was fine. Except for a large scar on her shoulder that resembled a too-big bite mark that she would never be able to forget. Most of the damage was in her head. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the beast's snout. Felt its teeth around her as it gripped her in its mouth.
And then, of course, there was the fact that it hadn't been a wolf that bit her, but a werewolf. Alix was only nine, but she knew what that meant, even if her mum and dad hadn't told her. Everyone knew how werewolves were made, and Alix was no exception. She didn't know what the ugly potion with the blue smoke coming off of it was when she saw it, but she knew it had something to do with her bite.
"Dear," the healer said gently, setting the goblet down in front of her.
A goblet. Not even a phial. Everyone brewed potions and bottled them up in phials. That was how it was supposed to be done. Why was this one in a goblet? Was it supposed to make it seem less like a potion and more like a juice for little Alix? Alix hated being treated like she was younger than she was.
"Dear," the healer repeated gently, drawing Alix's attention from the unfocused stupor of the past several days. "This potion is very important, Miss Fenwick. You have to take it every day for a week before a full moon."
Alix's mum, bless her, didn't understand the significance as much as her dad did. Alix's mum was well versed in antibiotics and ACE-inhibitors, not magical potions with plumes of blue smoke coming off them. She looked to Alix's dad for reassurance.
"Wolfsbane," he said without hesitation. Alix knew that look on his face. The way his teeth were clenched tightly, his fists gripping at nothing at his sides. He turned to Alix's mum. "It's not a cure. There is no cure for lycanthropy. But it can help her keep her mind while she transforms."
There it was. Confirmation of the fear that had lingered in the room with Alix, her dad, and the healers for days. It was the first time any of them had directly said the word in front of Alix, though she was sure they had explained the risks to Alix's parents outside of the room.
"So I'm really...?" Alix tried to say, but the healer cut in quickly, sensing her distress.
"More than likely, Miss Fenwick," the healer said quickly. "But werewolves don't face what they did in the past. They have normal jobs. Normal lives. All you have to do is drink the potion. We'll bring another dose tomorrow."
Alix looked to her parents for reassurance. Her mum was holding herself together as best she could, but Alix saw the way her eyes misted over. Alix's dad was staying strong, but even his despair was a palpable thing in the room.
"Take your medicine, little star," her mum said softly. Her voice sounded rough, like she had a potato in her throat. She stepped closer, putting a hand on Alix's cheek and using her thumb to brush Alix's hair out of her eyes.
Alix held her mom's gaze and nodded. She didn't cry. She didn't scream. It wouldn't do any good anyway, at this point. So all she did was silently grab the goblet and swallow it as fast as she could. She almost vomited, and she would never forget the taste, but she got it all down.
