the seven devils [completed]

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖊𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓

NOTE: THIS WAS A DOUBLE UPDATE, MAKE SURE YOU READ THE LAST CHAPTER

ELLADORA SELWYN - THE POISONER

 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Shaded spots everywhere, whirring, stirring around uncontrollably. The noise of an antique radio that is not quite finely tuned to the proper station, its frequency just slightly missing the precise spot. The conscious mind being somewhere between alert and asleep. Muffled sounds that cannot be pieced together, and voices that should be familiar, but are just blended in a sturdy bouquet. The incapacity to feel one's corporal being, and yet, a vague tingling dancing across the skin, stimulating nerves that are working overtime to get the body to feel something again. Then, the light starts slipping in, and the room is almost a Renaissance oil painting, so blurred and disfigured that one might think the painter was just throwing his brush at a canvas, thinking, "I will just make something of it later." The sound comes back in.

"Albus, you know, just as well as I do, that this would not have happened if it was a scanty intake," the voice was pistillate, although it had an edge to it, which indicated that the person speaking must have been well over thirty.

"So what are you saying, Madame Aduddel? That she exposed herself to it repeatedly on purpose?" asked Dumbledore, skepticism in his voice, but also a slight nuance of concern.

"Teenagers these days enjoy experimenting, reasonably, Miss Petrov—"

"That is not what happened here, rest assured, and it is best to ask the student what transpired than make such outrageous claims," his voice was final.

Varya's eyelids fluttered open, then shut back immediately when the fluorescent light bounced against her retina, setting her nerves afire with distress. A groan left her mouth, attracting the attention of the two adults, who immediately rushed to her bed.

"Miss Petrov, are you all right?" came the voice of the Matron as she grabbed Varya's hand, trying to get to sit up straight slowly. "Easy now, too much motion will make your breakfast end up on the floor."

Varya did not remember eating breakfast. As a matter of fact, her mind was so disorganized that she had no idea what had happened. Her eyes took in the room, a chamber with tall ceilings and copper-colored walls, a chandelier dangling in the middle, illuminating the rows of infirmary beds. She was in the Hospital Wing.

"How did I end up here?" she asked, memories still foggy, and Dumbledore exchanged a look with Madame Aduddel that the girl did not miss. "What is it?"

"We were hoping you could answer a few questions for us, darling, if you do not mind," said the woman, handing her a cold glass of water and instructing her to take tiny sips. Varya nodded, then gulped on the water ferociously, earning a disapproving glare.