The light from the bars made a striped pattern upon the ceiling like a monochrome, plaid wallpaper. Cedric rolled over on his side to stare at the Easter egg pastel yellow wall. ‘I can only stare at the ceiling so long,’ Cedric thought as he studied the uneven paint job. It seemed, at some point, the wall might have been a darker colour, and there were splotches that, up close, appeared to be a navy green. From a distance, though, the entire wall appeared one sheet of sickeningly pastel yellow.
‘No Venturini today yet. I wonder if that man finally took a day off. He never seems to leave this Ward. He’s been here every day since I’ve arrived.’
However, the thoughts of Adam soon became replaced with the memory of Cedric’s most recent dream. He’d been studying in the library when his mum called him down to dinner. In the world of dream logic, he simply walked from the Hogwarts library to his kitchen.
His mum told him they had to wait until his uncle came to eat. Cedric remembered he’d felt excited because he hadn’t seen his uncle in years. “I thought you said he died in the War, mum?” Cedric asked. His mum, however, only laughed.
“Nonsense, Cedric! Caradoc’s just been away for a while.”
Cedric nodded and agreed with his mum. In the dream, he remembered feeling silly to even think his uncle might be dead. Then, as if on cue, Caradoc walked through the door. The three of them sat down, and his mum beamed as they complimented her cooking.
“Didn’t I tell you that Cedric looked so much like you?” his mum said as she talked to Cedric’s uncle. The man laughed, and looked over at Cedric with his shining, light green eyes the colour of the fresh buds upon the trees in spring. Cedric’s mum continued talking. “I always say that, and it makes Amos so angry! I think he’s a bit jealous that Cedric looks more like your son than his!”
Cedric looked up at his mum, who had the same light green eyes as her brother. Caradoc simply shrugged and clapped Cedric on the back. Then, the dream had ended, but for a moment, Cedric woke up thinking his uncle was alive. It was one of those unfair dreams where one could wake and think the dream had been reality. For several fleeting moments, Cedric expected to hear his uncle laughing again.
‘But that’s not so. He’s been dead for a long time.’ Cedric sighed. ‘I suppose I do look a lot like my uncle. Of course, the only pictures I have of him was when he was about my age, and maybe we looked more alike in the dream than we would have in real life. Guess I’ll really never know.’
In the silence of the hospital bed chamber, Cedric couldn’t resist having his mind yanked back in time to when he was a boy. As the summer sun streamed through the window of their cottage, Cedric sat in a patch of sunlight, flipping through some of his mum’s old photo albums. He thought he might have been about seven, but his age seemed unimportant. As he fingered the shiny covers that kept the coloured rectangles and the people in them from getting dirty, Cedric spied a picture of a young man that looked like someone stuck some golden wheat upon his head and called it hair. The man was grinning, a broom in his hand, as he kept pointing out over a set of cliffs, which dropped off into a cloudless, azure sky, and a midnight blue ocean.
“Mum, why isn’t Uncle Caradoc visiting anymore? Is he still on that trip for work?”
A china plate crashed to the floor and resounded around the room like a crack of thunder. Cedric jumped and turned around to find his mum, her hands hanging open in the air as if she held an invisible dish, staring into space. “Mum, are you okay?” Cedric asked as he scrambled over the thousands of shards of white that sprayed across the dark wooden floor like little knives.
“Cedric, don’t get cut,” his mum whispered as she bent down and pulled out her wand. “Let me clean this up.”
After she finished, his mum remained crouching down over the floor. Her long, honey curls fell over her face, and the sunlight that glinted off her hair made it look like shimmering golden fabric fit for a king to wear. When she lifted her head, she said, “Let’s sit on the couch. Bring the album, dear.”
Cedric did as he was told. He bounded up alongside his mum on the couch and thrust the photo album into her lap. She took one arm and wrapped it around his shoulders so she could tuck him close to her body. Only once he was securely tucked into her frame did she open the photo album and flip to a page where a picture of two young people with identical green eyes and hair gold enough to make Midas jealous sat on a pair of swings. The boy clearly looked a bit younger than the girl in this picture, but both had the same lazy expressions on their faces that humid summer days induced.
“This is a picture of my brother and me when he was only fifteen. I was twenty-one, and we were at our parents house on the Isle of Mann,” his mum whispered as she pulled the picture out of its slot and handed the thin piece of paper to Cedric. It felt so flimsy and brittle in his hands, and he could see the back beginning to yellow a bit.
“Your uncle Caradoc . . . he fought in a War. Your dad talks about the War.”
“You always get upset when he does,” Cedric commented in the way only children do.
His mother pressed her lips together. She managed to say, “I didn’t like the War. You see . . . the War took your uncle away from us. He . . . he was killed, and his body . . . his body was never found.”
He remembered the way his mother’s face scrunched up before she broke into sobs. He told her it would be fine. He remembered how sad his mother had been right after the War, but this somehow seemed worse. Did he understand it that day? No, not really, but he would come to understand, and Cedric simply continued to tell his mum it was all going to be fine.
After a while, she wiped her eyes on her arm and smiled down at Cedric through puffy eyes. “Did you know that I named us after each other?” she said as she squeezed him into her body. “Ceriwyn, Caradoc, and Cedric. Mummy’s first name was Ceriwyn Dearborn, so she was a C.D., but since our name is now Diggory, you can be a C.D., too.”
She kissed him on the top of his head and turned his face up so she could see into his eyes. Now, she smiled again, but something sorrowful seemed to linger in the lines beginning to appear on her face from age. “You look so much like your uncle.”
‘I look so much like my uncle. A lot of good it did both of us.’
The silence of the room seemed to pop and snap in Cedric’s ears as he forced himself to swallow the tense knot in his throat. ‘I don’t actually remember my uncle . . . I just had those pictures of him. I always took my mum’s insistence that we were so much alike as simply fact. Who knows if it would have been true?’
Cedric jerked his neck around as the curtain whirled open. Immediately after he opened it, Venturini flung the grey sheet shut with such force that, if it had been a door, the clang could have resounded across the entire Ward. As Venturini strode into the room, Cedric could see his normal, taunting attitude and superior smirk had been replaced with an aura of worry.
“Did the Aurors come back?” Cedric asked, half afraid to hear the answer.
Venturini snorted as he gave Cedric a flat, wry smile. “Oh, if they come again, it won’t be good news, but no, this really isn’t about you. Actually, this might be your lucky day because I’m going to have to leave you sit here for a while, but I’m feeling a tiny bit kind.”
Venturini tossed a book onto Cedric’s bed. ‘It’s nice to see he might have become inclined to grow a conscious. It won’t do either of us much good, though.’ However, despite his personal misgivings, Cedric leaned over to pick up the book. A Guide to the Healing Arts was emblazoned on the cover in bright, gold script.
Cedric chuckled. “Did you think I liked the tour that much?”
“I don’t give a damn what you thought about the tour right now, but read the book. As for me, I won’t be around quite as much for the next several days. I’ve got new patients,” Venturini said in a crisp voice.
“I won’t know what to do when you aren’t interrogating me every day,” Cedric commented. Venturini simply shrugged, but one corner of his mouth tugged upwards as he turned to leave the room.
“You’ll regret that little quip when I do talk to you again.”
With a swish of the curtain, Venturini disappeared and left Cedric sitting alone in the bed. ‘Great. He’s assigning me homework. I wonder what got under his skin. He seems more stressed than I’ve ever seen him.’
Cedric spent the better part of the morning skimming the book. When he heard the curtain swish open, he assumed Venturini was bringing him lunch. He continued reading, but when he didn’t hear the clicking of Venturini’s shoes across the floor, he looked up.
“Susan, what are you doing here?”
Once again in her bare feet, Susan snuck through the curtain with only the rustling of the drapes. She smiled back at him and shrugged, and then peeking through the curtain, she turned back to Cedric. “There are people in that room! Did you know that?”
‘Ahhh . . . Venturini got new patients. That must be why he was so testy this morning. I bet they have some sort of strange and serious illness. Hopefully it’s not another case of parasites.’
“Do you want to meet them?” Susan asked, but before Cedric answered, she’d already drawn back the curtains. Cedric blanched, suddenly feeling naked and exposed without the protective wall of the curtains to wrap him in a soundless blanket.
As he gazed at the ashen faced boy, who was sitting up and staring with his mouth agape in the other bed, Susan ran over and flung back the curtain separating the boy’s room from the last room in the row of three. Cedric felt his gut turning, and he couldn’t manage to suppress the whirling in his stomach as he realized he knew the other boy. ‘God, Merrick Montague is here. How did everyone end up in the hospital? I don’t understand it. When did everyone start getting mortally wounded?’
“See?” Susan said as she ran down the length of beds to stand at the end of Cedric’s bed again. “I told you there were people!”
“T-that’s nice,” Cedric stammered, and his gazed darted over to look at Montague again. However, the young man ignored him completely to stare at the unconscious girl in the farthest bed from Cedric.
“Tracey,” Merrick hissed. “Tracey, wake up!”
The girl didn’t stir, and Cedric got the impression the girl seemed to be the one with the greatest injuries. However, Merrick continued to shout at her, and soon, Susan scrunched her face up and began to get the nervous look on her face Cedric had seen her get when she threw a fit.
“Susan, go check on her,” Cedric muttered. Susan stared around, unsure of what to do for a moment, but she got up and walked down to the girl.
As Susan began to shake the girl, Montague began to shout, “Don’t touch her! Leave her alone! You might hurt her more!”
This time, Montague hopped out of bed, but he staggered as he jumped. Cedric leaned forward in his bed, but before he moved, he remembered the barrier. “Montague, leave her alone!” Cedric shouted as Montague tried to fling Susan off the girl in the bed. As Montague grabbed Susan’s shoulders, she began to shriek. In an instant the battle turned, and Susan bit Montague on the arm. She writhed around in his grasp to smack him in the face before flinging him upon the floor.
“Crazy bitch! Get off!” Montague shouted as Susan stood over him.
“Why are you hurting me? Why . . . don’t do this to me,” Susan begged as she backed away from Montague. Tears began to stream down her face as she stood there, hands shaking.
“Susan, come here,” Cedric called. He tried to keep his voice steady and soft, but Susan didn’t seem to pay attention to it. “Susan . . . come over here.”
“I don’t . . . I didn’t do it . . . not yet. I swear; it’s not too late.” Susan’s eyes seemed to bulge out of her head as she whispered. She began to play with the end of her hair by twirling it around her fingers.
“Susan . . .” Cedric called again as Montague scooted away from Susan and used the wall to pull himself to his feet again. This time, Susan turned to Cedric and walked, as if in a trance, down to Cedric’s bed.
“Please . . . I don’t want to,” Susan begged as she continued to stare off into space. Now, she tugged at her hair with white knuckles and succeeded in pulling out two big chunks.
“It’s okay, Susan,” Cedric whispered, astonished by his own even voice. “No one can hurt you.”
Susan lowered her hands and dropped her hair to the ground. She turned to Cedric, but seemed to stare through him. A chill ran down his spine as she slowly made her way over to his bed. She crawled onto his bed, and he made room for her to lie down beside him. Still shaking, Susan curled up beside him.
With swollen, tear-stained eyes, Susan looked up at him. As Cedric leaned his head down to her, she whispered, “I think I know you. I don’t think that’s possible, though. I don’t know anyone.”
Cedric tried to swallow the knot in his throat, but he couldn’t quite manage it. ‘She . . . she’s just crazy. She’s imagining things . . . but maybe being crazy means you can understand the insane things that happen. Maybe she does really get it . . . but of course, I doubt she’ll be coherent enough to tell that to me.’
As Susan sighed and looked up at him with her puffy, expectant gaze, Cedric muttered, “Who do you think I am?”
She smiled and closed her eyes. “Just some boy I thought I knew.”
The fit passed, and Susan seemed to drift instantly into sleep. However, Cedric felt his heart pounding in his ears. He kept gazing down at the resting woman, dumbstruck and unable to move. Her violent fit seemed to trigger a moment of lucidness in her madness that Cedric simply could not explain. ‘Bloody hell. How . . . I have no idea. No one else . . . maybe the Memory Charm did something to her brain that allowed her to . . .’
The grey curtain that led to the main Ward parted like a storm cloud letting the sun through after a long, overcast day. Like a glittering ray of sun, Venturini strode into the Ward. His lime green robe billowed around him like a wave of electric colour. He pulled Montague to his side, and the boy did not fight when Venturini pressed his wand against the boy’s back.
“I wanted “ ”
“I do not care,” Venturini silenced Montague as he shut the curtain between Montague and the girl’s bed. Then, he bound Montague to his own bed with ropes. As he tied down the boy, Montague uttered a feeble yelp.
However, Venturini’s gaze did not focus on Montague, but instead his agitated stare locked onto Cedric. In Venturini’s dark brown, almost black, eyes, Cedric sensed the same, temperamental mood present the day Venturini banished Nissel. ‘Here he comes. I wonder how he’s going to blame this on me.’
Cedric kept his eyes on Venturini as he walked around Montague’s bed. His shoes clicked across the scuffed, white linoleum like a pick chiselling stone. Cedric put a hand on Susan’s shoulder, keenly aware that Venturini’s gaze rested squarely on the pair of them. The grey curtain swished shut between Montague and Cedric’s bed, and Cedric found himself once again facing a livid Venturini alone.
“What happened?” Venturini asked in a low, tense voice that barely contained his rage. “Tell me what she’s doing here.”
“She opened the curtains,” Cedric replied in a slow, even voice. ‘I need to . . . I need to channel that Auror . . . Robards. He manages to defuse Venturini enough of the time.’ However, Venturini kept his wand out and pointed directly at Cedric.
“Keep talking,” Venturini said in a deceptively level tone that was betrayed by the glittering intensity in his eyes. “Susan opened the curtains. What next? If you don’t tell me, I can certainly ask that silly boy.”
“Why don’t you?” Cedric questioned icily. “I’m sure he would tell you the same thing.”
With several strides, Venturini walked inside the bubble and stood directly over Cedric. Before Cedric could react, Venturini shot his free hand down and yanked Susan’s shoulder. “She had a fit!” Cedric shouted as he reached an arm around Susan’s body. The girl shrieked as Venturini tugged her partly outside of the bubble. Cedric kept clinging to her until his shoulder collided with the charm bubble. The sizzling sound of the collision was followed by a feeble moan as Cedric slid down into his bed like he’d turned to jelly.
“We’ll talk,” Venturini muttered as he pulled Susan beyond the curtain.
When Adam moved beyond the curtain, the dazed girl came to her senses and began to shout. “Stupefy!” Adam commanded, and the girl went limp like a rag doll. Adam gathered her under one arm and hauled her down his Ward. With a flick of his wand, he opened the doors to the Janus Thickey Ward.
“Healer Venturini!” Healer Strout exclaimed as Adam walked over and plunked Susan back into her own bed.
“I would be greatly obliged if you would keep your patients off my Ward,” Adam snapped as he bound Susan to the bed with ropes.
“I never force my patients to stay in their beds!”
“Maybe you should.” Turning on his heal, Venturini raised himself up to his full height and briskly walked out of the Ward. When he entered his own Ward, Venturini immediately went to find the patient he wanted to question. Sitting in his bed, the boy, still bound by ropes, appeared a bit dazed.
“My other patient doesn’t feel like chatting at the moment, so would you please tell me what happened on the Ward?” Adam asked as he paced at the end of Montague’s bed.
“I . . . that girl was going to hurt Tracey,” Montague stammered. “She was fine . . . and I thought that crazy girl might just wake her, but when she started to shake her, I went to pull her off.”
‘Gods, he’s a fool. I doubt this would have escalated if he hadn’t gotten involved.’ Adam continued to study the dark haired young man, who still seemed particularly ashen. ‘He probably doesn’t have enough blood in him. I tried to replenish his blood, but he lost quite a bit.’
“Is she going to be okay?” he asked in a timid voice.
Adam sighed and looked up at the ceiling while he said, “Miss Davis will be fine. She sustained some serious internal injuries, but I would say she’ll make a full recovery.”
“Can I see her?”
“When she wakes,” Adam said as he once again looked down at his patient. “Tell me . . . I was wondering how the lot of you got away initially. They rounded up a fair amount of all the known Death Eaters.”
“It was Goyle that got Tracey, Rowle, and Famke out of Hogwarts,” Montague supplied. “Tracey’s mum got me, and we fled the Ministry together. She said . . . she thought we’d be tried for . . .”
“I already can guess for what,” Adam said when Montague refused to finish the line. “I’m familiar with the common charges that are being levelled against the Death Eaters and their supporters in the Ministry. Sloane Davis, and I suspect you, too, were helping to head the incarceration of Muggle borns and their sympathizers.”
Montague blanched at the accusation, but Adam only chuckled. “I’ve known Sloane Davis for a while . . . all the way back when she was Sloane Rosier. I am completely aware of what she did, but I’m slightly shocked she dragged her daughter into the mess.”
“Tracey wanted in,” Montague said, but then, he snapped his mouth shut as if realizing he may have spilled too much information. Adam rolled his eyes. ‘Oh dear gods, they’re in love. That stupid boy is in love with Sloane’s daughter.’
“How did it happen?” Adam asked Montague, who gave him a blank look. “How did you become involved with Tracey Davis?”
Montague stared dumbly at him for a moment, but Adam crossed his arms and said, “I can wait around for the answer. The fact that you are obsessed with her is sketched all over your bloody face, boy.”
Montague stammered, “After school, I worked for her mum . . . and I met her. I mean, I knew her “ kind of “ from before, but after school, we became close.”
“How touching. Young love blossoming over the mutual desire to torture Muggle borns,” Adam drawled. Montague went to speak, but Adam shook his head. “I’ve heard what I need to hear. I want you to listen to me closely: stay in your bed. If you run around this Ward “ which seems quite common of patients lately “ I cannot take credit for you. And you will be captured.”
Montague murmured, “I understand.”
Adam nodded and crossed the grey curtain threshold into his other patient’s room. The man sat, staring at the wall, and refused to look at Adam when he entered the room. Adam strode over and picked up the unopened book on the bed. He’s at least been reading it,’ Adam realized as he saw some of the pages had been earmarked.
“I see you don’t enjoy your solitude,” Adam commented. The man still kept his head turned towards the wall. “I don’t blame you much. There’s nothing worse than being bored.”
“You seem to have a way of complicating things,” the man finally muttered, but he didn’t turn towards Adam.
“I am the one complicating things?” This time, the man turned his head to look at the Healer. “I thought it was the reverse. In contrast to your little stunts, I had a productive idea to help you.”
The man leaned forward, and Adam watched him study the Healer for several moments. Finally, the man said, “I don’t understand you. You keep me from prison; you threaten to send me to prison. You trap me here; you take me on little sightseeing tours.”
“You want to know what I want,” Adam stated, and the man simply nodded. “You seem to be a magnet for causing trouble when you’re alone, so I am convinced I need to be around you more. However, that is mostly impossible, considering I do have other patients. There can be only one solution: you become my apprentice Healer.”
The man burst into laughter. “You’re a nutter. You said yourself that if I’m caught walking around, they’ll throw me in prison.”
Adam leaned forward, a gleam in his eye. “That’s why we’re not getting caught.”
The man stopped laughing and pulled back from Adam. “You’re serious.”
“Perfectly,” Adam replied. “I’m just hoping whatever random traumatic events you’ve suffered hasn’t left you with a head of sawdust, but I haven’t sensed that from you, and judging by the fact that you’ve been reading my book, I don’t think you’re the dumbest apprentice to wander these halls.”
“Why don’t you just hire Nissel back?”
Adam’s lips formed into a straight line. “Let me deal with him,” Adam replied stiffly. “The point is, I made you a job offer.”
“I don’t have a choice, do I?”
Adam chuckled and shook his head. ’He’s getting the idea.’