The Black Sheep | George Weasley

Sixty-Seven

New Year came and Lyra spent it at the hospital while her husband went to a New Years' party. She tended to vary degree burns from screaming victims of Death Eaters. A wizard housing complex was caught on fire because rumors of muggle-borns being housed there spread. 

Lyra sat with a nine-year-old girl who had all her arms bandaged and had extensive treatment on her back. She was one of the victims with the worst damage. Lyra read her a story from The Tales of Beedle the Bard.

"D-do you believe in the Deathly Hallows?" The girl asked with a strained voice.

Lyra closed the book and sighed in thought. "I think every story holds some truth to it. I heard a rumor in school that a student owned the cloak of invisibility and that Dumbledore had the Elder Wand. Do you believe in them?"

She shrugged weakly. "My mum said it's all shite."

Lyra stifled a laugh, making the girl smile for the first time since her visit. "You didn't answer the question."

"I believe it." She admitted. "I'd like to have the Resurrection stone. I'd like to see my granddad again."

"I think your granddad is still with you, even without the stone. People who die aren't really gone, you know. I believe there's more than meets the eye."

"You believe in an afterlife." The girl clarified.

Lyra nodded her head. "I hope so at least."

"Do you believe in Hell?" The girl asked. "Do you think Death Eaters will go there?"

Lyra bit her lip. "I think those who do great evil will have karma."

Their conversation ended shortly after. Lyra was moved to check on the other patients. It seemed like morning never came. It was a slow night that made Lyra forget all about New Year's Eve or day.

When she arrived home it was slightly after six. The flat was still and was very much asleep. She entered the bedroom to find her husband snoring as he lay in bed fully clothed, shoes and all. She shook her head and at least removed his shoes for him.  She eventually laid her head down and tried to sleep. It was hard to rest after such a rough night.

It seemed to be a pattern, Lyra spent more time at the hospital than ever before. More victims of Death Eaters came in too and more died on the table.

Louisa and Eddy had both lost a patient and it was a sad day indeed. Lyra found herself drifting off to sleep in bloody robes as she sat in the sterile corridors.

It grew to less time in the classroom and more time in the hospital itself. She was rushing around gathering potions, helping hold hysterical patients down, and trying to clean blood out of the way for the healers working hastily to save lives.

Lyra started to get used to blood, she got used to wearing it. Going home with a spot she missed was almost expected. George couldn't understand what she had to go through daily. He didn't see the war she did. He'd pour her a glass of wine when she was stuck in her thoughts more than normal.

They sat in the kitchen late one night. She drained her second glass. She had just taken a shower, washing the grime off her body.

"It's never a case of if a person will die, it's when. It's always when. And tonight was then." Lyra told George. "An older man, Hugh Walters. Bellatrix got him. Slit his throat and left him for dead. But someone took him to St. Mungo's. I helped Healer Sallow tend to his injury. It was healed but he lost too much blood and was already on the brink of death. We meant to do a blood transfusion but he died before I could even grab the equipment."