The Original Witch

Chapter 22

"I think she is starting to wake up."

Before I open my sore eyes, I investigate the state of my body carefully. No sharp pains or throbbing headache. Now I think it is safe to say that the worst has passed...I almost forgot about that memory...I wanted it to be erased from my mind forever. A tear forms in my eye, pushing me to open my eyes finally to greet my visitors.

A loud sigh of relief fills up the still empty infirmary, one that belongs to George Weasley. "Blimey Alexia, I was so worried about you! Are you ok?" His tone sounds rushed and urgent, yet his face remains calm.

I want to speak but the words seem to slip out of my grasp from the cloudiness of my relived experiences. Ron pipes up instead, "I'll go get you some more pumpkin juice." George remains silent as Ron fetches the juice, but he grips my hand gently, rubbing soothing circles on my skin. A minute passes before Ron comes back with a closed cup.

I eye him suspiciously before taking a sip from the straw provided only to find out that blood was in the cup instead of juice. He slowly pulls down his robes to cover the small slit, but I make sure to thank him silently with a nod. They both sit down, wanting to know my current state.

Speaking up, my voice is quiet and fragile, "I must have gotten some type of bug...I felt extremely ill earlier. Sorry for the scare," except Ron knew the truth.

George speaks up again, his voice quiet as well. "I don't understand what happened before you passed out...you kept screaming 'I need to see her' over and over again. Were you...hallucinating?" His tongue carefully dances around the word to not offend me in some way I suspect.

"Not hallucinating...more along the lines of reliving some of my worst memories."

"What were they?" Ron asks. Shortly after, George whacks his nosey brother upside the head, resulting in a groan of pain from Ron.

I chuckle slightly, "I can't blame you for asking Ron, but I'm afraid that some are simply too personal to share." I can feel my body slightly trembling, anxiously thinking about what would happen if I told the two about what happened many years ago.

George looks at me, "If you ever want to talk about it, you know I'm-"

"I know," I cut him off. I remove my hand from his warm one gently before sinking further into the springy bed to roll over to my side, away from the red heads. I stay quiet, signaling for the two to leave because right now I don't want company...only rest. They leave without saying another word, leaving me alone with my thoughts and scary questions.

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A couple of days later, Madame Pomfrey releases me from the infirmary with my wound now fully healed and my health intact. Revenge is on my mind, but for once I have this feeling that I should listen to Ron about showing mercy...well I may show Lillian mercy by not killing her but that doesn't mean I can't mess with her a bit.

Feeling completely better physically, I walk the halls towards the Great Hall for breakfast. I can already hear people excitedly discussing the second task of the tournament and what it may be. "What if they have to face boggarts?" "Or trolls!" "No, I think they will have to duel."

When I walk in, Hermione waves me over to the Gryffindor table, much to the displeasure of fellow house members who chose not to associate with Slytherins. Because Lillian is not in the room yet, I take my seat next to a worried Hermione. "Are you ok?"

I nod my head, unsure of whether or not I fully am, "Must have caught a bad sickness. It was miserable." Living those memories was more than miserable, but I wouldn't dare share such personal information in the middle of a large crowd.