I guarentee this is and HP fic. It's set in the world after the defeat of Voldemort. Quite a few of the teachers we know and love are there, but the students we know have graduated. Just give me another chapter after this to introduce the wizarding world.


~///~



Prologue


I woke up to the beeping of an EKG machine for what felt like the millionth time in my life. I turned my head and could only stare blankly at it. Most kids my age have never even seen one. If I were to mention it, they wouldn't know what I was talking about. They're all so lucky. But this meant that my heart had begun to fail again. Again. Even though it was merely a thought, the word rang in my ears. I was slowly brought out of my own thoughts by the sound of my mother sobbing and people talking. Five surgeries, countless months that I spent in the hospital, and I could hear them now saying there was nothing more they could do. I didn't want to hear anymore so I just focused on the lines and the gentle beep of the machine next to me. Once I was bored enough with that, I turned to the IV. I always found it interesting, for some reason. The way the liquid seemed to cling to itself, holding on as this little dome of liquid appeared, slowly turning into a bubble, then falling as if it had been freed from a strange sort of cage. I loved it when my IV was on a slow drip. Slow drips you can always watch the entire process.

The door opened and my mother rushed through it. She always rushed like that, as if I'd die in the next few seconds from the doorway to my bedside. She took my hand, the one that didn't have the IV, and laid her forehead on it. I could feel her tears on my fingertips as she cried. Somewhere through the sobs I could hear her apologizing to me, and I didn't know what for. Even if I was dying, it's not like she hadn't done what she could.

“It's not your fault, mom,” I said weakly, and it hurt my throat to do so. I must have had a breathing tube again. I sat up and smiled at her, though it took a little more effort than I'd thought. I definitely had more strength when I was laying down. I looked around the room. “Water, please?”

Someone had a glass ready and handed it to me. Meanwhile my mother was looking up at me and talking about how brave I was. I wasn't really brave, though. To be brave, you had to be afraid, too. But I just couldn't be. It was difficult to feel anything, really. Five surgeries and several hospital visits later, they'd only told me what I was sure of since I was five. I didn't know how to feel anything about it, much less what to feel. I drank a little of that ice-cold water at a time and slowly felt my throat go numb. Pulling a sliver of ice into my mouth, I enjoyed the feeling of that smooth piece become nothing.

A doctor walked up beside my mother and I wondered what they were going to say. I already knew I was going to die. Surely they didn't think that I couldn't hear them right outside my door.

“I'm afraid there's nothing more we can do,” he said. Indeed, they didn't think she'd heard. In that case, she wasn't letting them know. “We've tried everything, and there's just no improvement.” She could imagine those words written across her file: failure to thrive. “We're moving you up to the fourth floor so you can have some time to recover. If you show some improvement, we'll let you go home until your next episode.”

I nodded and looked at my mother. “I'll improve, mom. Don't worry. I wanna come home and go swimming, okay?”

She nodded, her eyes filled with tears and despair. The doctor looked on as though he wanted to say something and simply couldn't. He quietly left the room, letting them grieve for me while I still lived.

I'm Angelica Morayne, ten and a half years old, and have just been told that all the medical marvels in the world have failed. Tomorrow I will wake up on the fourth floor of the hospital. My guess is, I'll be all alone.

Dude Zelly. I love the start of your story. 10 years old!? god I feel so sorry for that little girl. I hope she doesn't wake up alone

PAMS!

okay, lemme sharpen up my skeelz picked up in my Literature course.

First off, let me say that I'm quite intrigued by the story and the character and will definitely be coming back to read more.

The very first line sets the tone of the story (or chapter, cos I havent read the rest...so wouldn't know). We know it's going to be sad, and there is a sense of hopelessness about the character.

This was incredibly touching. Where in the first chapter we see how Angelica reacts to her illness, we see the more frantic one of a mother losing a child. Or a mother who has been losing her child. I dont know, with the mother apologizing to her, it feels like she's already given up. Her mother knows that Angelica is as good as lost to her.

The simple innocence of a child who lost her innocence. I love this part, it shows how she can't be scared or angry at being sick, but she can find enjoyment in something as simple as a melting piece of ice, or a dripping IV.

That is a wonderful ending to the chapter, and also a great opening to the story. Usually, in lit papers, we get asked to judge how effective an opening is in a story, and I'd say this one hits the nail on the head. You've given us a brief background story on the main character, and also an insight into the way she thinks and feels. The tone of the story is set and I expect quite a few people are gonna read this, love it, subscribe to the story and will keep coming back for more.

I have a feeling about what's going to happen, but wont speculate on it. LOL. It's a great beginning, Zelly and I can't wait to read the next bit.

PAMS! I love it! She is only 10 years old but I still love her! i feel so bad for her! Again PAMS I:worship: your FF! PAMS again!:techni:

Trio

Chapter One
The Fourth Floor


My second day on the fourth floor, I was taken off the IV and the monitors. They told me to stay in bed for one more day to rest, at least. I was sitting up with little effort now, but knew they were right. It's how it always was. So I rested. Every so often I would turn on the TV, but I rarely watched anymore. It was all just so much noise. And the third day I was given clothes to walk around the floor. It was still ugly, hospital clothing, but it was better than the horrid gown.


After getting dressed she climbed gingerly out of the bed, nearly slipping as she did so. Thanks to her illness, she was smaller than others her age by far. Standing by the bed, it nearly came up to her chest. It was something she was used to, and why she preferred to keep from getting in and out of the hospital beds too much. They'd had some that were smaller, made for little children, but apparently they didn't exist here on the fourth floor. Unlike the rooms elsewhere, this room was also packed with one-use emergency equipment. Things that were usually stored in the center of the emergency room, to be shared by all the rooms there... instead it was like a personal emergency room, just for her. And yet there was fancy wallpaper, paintings and pictures, and expensive curtains on the windows, as though trying to make you forget that you're in a hospital, even without the equipment.


They said that it was a place where people went to wait for advancements and experimental procedures. So many fancy words for saying that there was nothing left in the world for you. And as she stepped from her room, into the lovely hallway, she became more and more sure... this was where she was going to die.


I wandered the halls of the fourth floor. There were many other rooms, and all of the ones I saw were empty. There was a lounge, that I could just see past the white halls and the lovely paintings, but I wanted to see what else there was. But there weren't even any restricted doors or doctor's offices, only a nurses' station with a guest registry. Giving up, I went into the lounge at last.


Walking in, there were many comfortable-looking chairs and sofas. A few tables, and a shelf with games that looked like they had never been touched. To one side, with a sofa facing it, was a TV. I walked over to see a boy that looked to me my age... or at least, he looked as I imagined my classmates would look. Tall, and just beginning to mature. I wasn't sure, because I hadn't been to school in years, but the fourth-graders on TV looked like him.


He was talking to a very pretty lady, who I guessed was his mother. She looked like she was struggling not to cry, but he was smiling at her. So fake. His eyes were blank, emotionless, as though he hadn't felt anything in years. His smile was empty, forced, there for the benefit of his mother. For the first time since I was told I would die, I felt my chest tighten, and my eyes were threatened with tears. I didn't want to be like that, with blank eyes and forced smiles. I wasn't afraid to die, but if I was going to die then I wanted to die with emotions!


He said something to make his mother laugh, and she looked a little more confident. She stood and kissed him on the forehead, blinking tears away, then walked out of the room. I barely got a glimpse of a guest sticker on her chest saying, “Bethany.” The boy turned back to the TV. I walked over and looked out the window, not wanting to talk to him, for fear of looking into those horribly blank eyes.


“You're new here.”


I jumped, a little startled, and looked back to him. He hadn't even moved. He still stared at the TV, though didn't really seem interested in what was there. “I- I am,” I managed to get out. Feeling silly, I walked over and sat next to him. His hospital band was the same as mine, and I realized for the first time that I'd never seen ones like these before. They were a soft plastic with our names and patient numbers permanently imprinted on them. His name, “William Moore,” seemed to glare at me.


He didn't turn to look at me, but only kept staring blankly at the TV. “Then I have something to tell you, and I'll only say it once.”


He sounded so rehearsed. I nodded, and I don't think he saw. But then again, whether he saw or not probably didn't matter.


“You probably already know why you're here. It's the end of the line. You should think of where you want to die. You'll get to go home three times. After the third time, you die here. If you want to die at home, do it your third time back, or you won't have a choice. But everyone has that choice: die here, or die at home. And do your part, tell this to anyone else who comes in here.”


I swallowed hard, turning and watching that blank expression. “But you've only said it once! Why should I tell anybody that? Why don't you do it?”


He turned to me, that blank look as if he didn't even exist. “Next week... I go home.”


He turned back to stare at the television and the words hung in my mind. “How many times?”


“This will be my third time.”


“And... and you...”


“Not yet.”


My heart was pounding in my chest. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. And the world around me went black.


~///~


The EKG was beeping again, and I looked up to see a doctor I didn't know writing something in my file. He sighed and laid it on a nightstand that I'd only just noticed. “I'm alright.”


He seemed a little surprised and looked at me. He gave me a sad smile. “I know. You're not the first person to pass out their first time in the lounge.” He walked around the other side of the bed and turned off the EKG. “But we have to be careful, you know?”


I nodded and disconnected the red, black, and white wires that lead to the machine. “I know.” I began to peel off the sticky patches and frowned as each left a little white mark, which I knew would be red the next time I looked at them. “Is it true? What he said?”


He watched me a careful moment, and a certain sadness seemed to overcome him. “I'm afraid so.”


He reached to pick up my file and I leaned over, putting my hand on it. “I want to see it.”


He hesitated then nodded. “I'll let the staff know. Someone will come by to pick it up later.” With that, he left. Left me to read my secret history.


His answer would have been different, I know. I asked a few times to see my file, but they only said that if I wanted a copy I would have to request one, because they needed to put it back. I was betting that our files stayed on this floor now, and if they really needed it in a hurry, they would need it in here anyway. My mother didn't want to pay for a copy, and said it would take too much time.


I opened the folder, and all my recent information was there. I leafed through the pages detailing my operations. I didn't understand any of it. It was a very thick folder now, a little heavy and I was clumsy trying to get through it. When I went back far enough, I found my birth record. A piece of paper flat against the plastic-like paper of the heavy folder.


The next page was when I was two days old. Apparently I was a pretty big baby, growing fast already. I had gained almost a quarter of a pound. The next I was a month old, and I had a cold. I got medicine for a cough. There were growth charts now. There was a little dot for both my height and weight between lines that were labeled 50 and 75. Another page and I was three months old, and there were more dots in the same place. Not exactly, because the lines curved up, but they were still between the same lines. I had trouble breathing and they had me on a humidifier.


There were a few pages after that, a lot of doctor appointments with words I didn't recognize. Then I was six months old. The dots were between 25 and 50. Written there were the words: Failure to thrive. I only scanned through the the pages from there, but those words were written so many times. I didn't even look to see which one was after my first operation. I closed the folder and put it back on the nightstand.


A few months later I sat in the lounge, looking at the TV as brightly colored animated people laughed and joked and had fun. A woman came into the room, looking nervous, and a little lost. I came up on my knees in an effort to see over the back of the sofa. She was wearing that soft plastic around her wrist, and her blouse was open, her scars evident. “You're new here,” I said.


She nodded and began to walk over. But my first sentence stopped her, and she looked stunned.


“Then I have something to tell you, and I'll only say it once.” Taking a deep breath, I started, somehow remembering word for word what the boy had told me. “You probably already know why you're here. It's the end of the line. You should think of where you want to die. You'll get to go home three times. After the third time, you die here. If you want to die at home, do it your third time back, or you won't have a choice. But everyone has that choice: die here, or die at home. And do your part, tell this to anyone else who comes in here.”


She started crying and I climbed down off the couch. Walking over to her, I took her hand. “I'm Angelica. I'm gonna be eleven soon. Come on, watch TV with me.” I took a glance at her band. 'Erna Wilson.'


She nodded quietly and came to sit on the couch by me. She didn't watch TV though, and neither did I. She sobbed quietly into her hands. I stared at the TV.


I heard soft footsteps and someone sat on the couch by me.


“You're dying here?”


“Yeah, I am.”


-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Part of the idea for this section came from a visual novel called Narcissus. It's a fan translated one. I don't know how it ends because it's glitchy, but I liked the floor for the dying, and the patients there telling newcomers about their "options." The thing that I left out is in the vn, the girl telling the guy this also tells him how to escape the hospital.

Slightly eerie post. And I'd give you another detailed analysis, lol, but I'm too tired. Anyway, I just have one issue: the second and third paragraph are in third person narrative, whereas everything else is in first person. It kinda threw me off for a while, lol.

Anyway, I like it. I keep thinking "Turn 11 already!!!" while I'm reading.

Sooo...the William Moore died?

I do that here and there. Kinda like God giving his side of things. lol The first one I did it too:

It was just a little more seemless. I know there's a word for switching back and forth in a meaningful way, but I forget what it's called.

Oh, and for your other question:

Was actually meant to be him.

Oooh.

Quote:

“I know. You're not the first person to pass out their first time in the lounge.”

*giggles*

Mmm . . . suspenseful. Wheee!

It's brilliant and eerie and very very creepy.
I like it so much!!! PAMS!

I've no clue how UK addresses work. I chose a postcode at random and added an address to it off the top of my head. Eh... it works.

Chapter Two
Changes


I walked out of my room and into that white hallway again. Past many windows and lovely paintings. Tonight I would be going home for the first time since coming to the fourth floor. I was eleven years old, exactly.


I stopped to look out one of the windows and out to the parking lot. I wasn't sure exactly what I expected to see. No one would be here for a while yet. But I watched the cars anyway, coming and going, with people walking about. Barely half a year, and soon I would be in that parking lot, leaving the fourth floor for the first time. My first visit home.


I was terrified.


But I'd told mom that I wanted to go home. I wanted to swim.


That was before I met William Moore, the boy with the blank eyes and fake smile, who would be dying here. It was before I met Erna Wilson, undecided and full of tears. Before I realized that I didn't have long to make my decision, and I wanted much much longer. Three visits, six months apart, meant I only had another year. Maybe I could fake something. If there was anything wrong, I wouldn't be allowed to go home. I wouldn't have to tell my mother that I didn't want to go home.


Stepping away from the window I sighed and started back for the lounge. I didn't want to worry them either. But then, I had until this evening to think about it. I walked in to only see William. Erna was nowhere in sight. Before I could even ask, William spoke up.


“She wasn't feeling well. The nurse helped her back to her room.”


I could smell cleaner. Strong cleaner. And bleach. Apparently 'not feeling well' was an understatement. I began to walk toward the couch when I heard footsteps running. Was Erna already- I pushed the thought from my mind, not wanting to think it. I turned toward the door as the footsteps grew louder, and the next thing I knew, I was in the arms of someone and he was spinning me around. It took me a moment to realize who he was and what he was shouting.


“You're going to live!” shouted the doctor who was spinning me, the one who had been in my room that first day and left my file behind.


I didn't understand. Had he gone insane? They'd said there was no cure, and no more ways to control it. I was going to die. And here he was swinging me around and telling me I had a way. He finally set me down with a laugh, and an apology on his lips. I didn't really hear it though. Behind the doctor I could see William. He'd turned and was watching us from over the back of the couch. Those blank eyes were filled with emotion... and tears.


~///~


“Your parents will be here soon, but I wanted to give you something before they got here.” The doctor opened a desk drawer and took two things out. One looked like a long stick. The other was an envelope, the paper distinctly not bleached. I took it and read the address.


Angelica Morayne, Room 415
St Evan's Hospital
320 Serende Lane
Bristol BS30 8SG


“Wh- what is this?” I looked up to the doctor, who seemed strangely excited for me to open it. I turned the envelope over to see a wax seal with some sort of emblem. Every so slowly I opened it and pulled out the paper inside. Unsure what else to do, I read it out loud. “Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry...” I glanced up to the doctor, who just grinned back at me and gestured for me to keep reading. Swallowing hard, I did just that. “We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We wait your owl by no later then July 31.”


“I wish I'd known sooner, Angelica. I mean, I want to help all the patients and all, and there's only so much I can do here, but... By Merlin, Angelica... You're a witch! This changes everything!” He stood and got something that looked like a scroll case. Pulling some paper from it, which also was not bleached, he pulled out a pen and began writing. “I'll write you a referral to St Mungo's right away. They'll have you fixed up in no time, I'm sure!”


I looked at the other piece of paper, that had some very strange things written on it. “Doctor, I appreciate your effort, but... I don't believe in magic.” But even as I said it, I wanted to believe it. My heart was pounding. Told I'm not just going to live, but that I could be cured now. And better, I was a witch. Magic... It was every child's fantasy.


He looked up, still smiling. “Yes, of course. I thought much of the same thing when I got my letter. It's all so unbelievable, isn't it?” He finished writing, folded up the paper, and tucked it away. “Must owl this as soon as I get home.”


“Owl?” I looked back to the letter once more. “It says they await my owl. Even if this is all true, I don't understand it. Awaiting my owl for what? I don't even have an owl.”


“Well, I'll talk with your parents. They should be here any minute.” He continued smiling as though he couldn't help it. I wasn't sure if I was expecting him to hug me again or burst out into laughter at my naiveté. “But so long as they agree, I'll go ahead and send the owl for you.”


I was about to ask for something to say he was telling the truth, but a knock on the door interrupted before I could even start. The doctor stood and walked over to the door, opening it with that same smile. If it was a joke, it was a cruel one on my parents. No doctor would do such a thing, would they? He invited them to sit and returned to his own seat.


“Mr and Mrs Morayne, I've good news.” I could see the hope in their eyes as the doctor spoke. And I hoped, too. Hoped to God that they wouldn't be crushed. “Due to special conditions, I'm able to give your daughter a referral to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.”


I could see their confusion and disappointment at the word 'Magical.' Her father frowned.


“Dr Ingham, this really isn't funny...”


The doctor, whose name was apparently Ingham, shook his head. “Hold on a moment.” He picked up the stick he'd taken out before, muttered something, and the tip of the stick lit up. The next thing we all knew, he was writing in midair. Well, drawing, actually. It was a little pointed hat. A wave of the stick and the tip returned to normal. He waved a hand through the drawing and it dispersed.


I sat stunned.


“Mr and Mrs Morayne, I am a wizard. And your daughter has just gotten her invitation to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which means she's a witch as well.” He tucked the stick away, which I assumed was a wand of some sort.


I finally looked elsewhere, and elsewhere happened to be the faces of my parents. It was as though they weren't believing their own senses. My father seemed to come out of shock first. “Doctor... you must be mistaken. I mean, how could our daughter-?”


Ingham shook his head. “We don't know, actually. But it happens sometimes. Muggles- that is, non-magical people every so often will have a child who shows magical promise. Often times they manage to show it, so it's a little more believable for parents, but I can understand if this is a little harder for you than most others.”


He took a pause, pulling out his wand again and conjuring up tea and biscuits, right there before us. I was quite sure that he'd done it just to give us something solid. “Here, have some tea. It should help. Anyway, my bet is because of Angelica's condition, she was too weak to perform magically. Times of high stress or anger never came up because she's spent most of her life dealing with the illness. Even I wouldn't have guessed.”


My father took a biscuit and eyed it. Even as he took a bite, he seemed half expected it'd bite him back. When it didn't, he relaxed a little and took a cup of tea as well. “So, what does this mean for Angelica, Dr Ingham? What can they do for her?”


The doctor smiled, that wonderful smile that was beginning to make my heart melt. “It means, Mr Morayne, that she can finally get the care she really needs. She'll be able to go to the wizarding world for treatment. And even if they can't completely cure her, they'll be able to control it for the rest of her life. Except for perhaps needing to take a potion once or twice a day, she'll be able to grow up as a normal witch. Go to school, perhaps even ride a broom of you'll let her, make friends... Everything she's been unable to do from a hospital bed.”


My mother finally spoke up, sounding nervous. “School... broom... You say she was invited to some school. Does she have to go? I mean, does she have to be a witch for you to...”


He shook his head and my heart sank. “No, she doesn't have to go to the school. Whether she attends Hogwarts or not, she is still a witch because she still has magical potential, and she can still receive care at St Mungo's. But as she gets stronger, her power may present itself more, so it's recommended she attend Hogwarts or at least have a tutor so she can focus the power.”


I couldn't let my mother speak. I couldn't let her say no. “Mom, I want to be a witch! I want to go to Hogwarts! Please!” I begged her, as though my very life depended not on the hospital I was being referred to, but on the school that I'd been invited to. “And I think we owe them anyway, right? If they hadn't sent the letter, we wouldn't have known, and I would still be dying, right?”


My chest hurt and tears burned my eyes. I started having trouble breathing. I must have started looking pale because the doctor rushed over with an oxygen mask and was quickly turning a valve I hadn't even seen near me.


“Breathe,” he said softly. “Please stay calm. We do still need you to make it to St Mungo's.”


I nodded, holding the mask to my face and breathing as they'd taught me so many years ago. But I really wanted this. It wasn't as though I could go back to my old school anyway. Not only did I hardly know anyone, but everyone there only saw me grow weaker. And those who were my friends had long stopped coming to see how I was doing when I was ill. I didn't know if I could look at them again. And being a witch! It just seemed so amazing, she couldn't stand it.


“Alright, Angelica,” I heard my mother's voice saying. Then her voice changed, and I knew she was no longer looking at me. Her next words meant that my father had nodded to her. “What do we do to send our daughter to Hogwarts?”


I managed a glance up from where I was sitting, and that same heart-warming smile was on the doctor's face. “I'll take care of everything. Take Angelica home. A wizard will be by your place to pick up Angelica in the morning. He'll take her to St Mungo's, then Diagon Alley so she can pick up her supplies.”


I'll never forget that smile for my entire life. That wonderful, beautiful, warm smile that told me the choice was over. I was going to live.

YES! And the hot Dr Ingham is a wizard too! lol, so beside the point. Anyway, I loved the chapter, there was this immediate twist in the tone of the story. So far it's all been very dark and eerie, and now suddenly WHAM! I'm smiling. lol.

Great update, Zel. I was quite shocked when Ingham was all "Yay, I'm a wizard too", I have to say I wasn't expecting that.

And poor William Moore...he cried *pets him* I was kinda hoping he'd show some promise too, but oh well, can't have it all, can we?

I can't wait for your next update.

new reader totally subscribes this is so awesome it's great! can't wait for more! Em

OMG! This is the awesome! PAMS!! hehe, William Moore is my fave XD

She has a last name! Yes, I know this isn't an update, but Angelica's last name is Morayne, not Worth. I was agonizing over it last chapter when Nabs, my sweetie, suggested Worth. Didn't quite sound right for some reason, but it worked. Going back over the prologue, however, I finally read at the end where she introduced herself with her last name. Silly me. So the latest chapter has been edited with her real last name.

OMG! You are like sooo good! Keep up the good work! I can't wait for the next part!

Well, I thought I was sending her to Hogwarts, but that'll be next chapter.

Chapter Three
Wizards

I expected a hospital, and that was all. I didn't know what a wizarding hospital would look like, so didn't know what else to expect. I was quite sure that it isn't what I saw, if that made any sense. I'm quite sure it didn't. But somehow it did back then.

Everyone was quite busy, and quite a few people came to greet me. I didn't know how to be scared anymore. And I wasn't sure how to smile. I'm quite sure I'd forgotten a long time ago. I mean, yes, I could look like I was smiling. But it was never really a smile. And I realized I didn't know how to be happy. They were telling me I was about to be cured, and I didn't smile. I knew disappointment, and I knew relief. What sort of child was I? One step away from blank eyes and fake smiles. I realized then, I already had fake smiles. That doctor had smiled that beautiful smile at me, and I didn't even smile back.

They took my hand and I looked at that soft wristband. I couldn't let them take it. It was only that and my scars that said anything about what I'd been through. And I found myself telling the staff that I wanted to keep my scars. They frowned at me, not understanding, but said they'd do what they could. Apparently other procedures lay ahead of me. I guess whatever was wrong must be pretty serious if magic couldn't just fix it. But then again, I guess no one's perfect.

I woke up some time later, laying in a very soft bed. The comfort of the EKG wasn't there, nor was the twinge of the IV in my arm. I looked around, and found very little. Beds, other patients, curtains... it was rather boring, and it made me restless. It was very strange to feel restless after a procedure. Possibly two. They said if I was doing well enough, they would do it back-to-back.

I moved to sit up and found it took my breath away. My heart started pounding, stronger than I'd ever felt it. The dizzying feeling was new... not weak, but overwhelming. I could breathe easily, despite my body saying that I shouldn't be able to. It had worked! Whatever they did, it worked!

“You've been sick for a long time,” a voice came. It was someone in the hallway, looking at other patient's charts. It was strange not seeing them at a computer. “It's going to take a little while for your body to get adjusted to having a fully functional heart.”

“I was dying,” I said, looking down at my scars. They were still there, but faded. The band was still on my wrist. I didn't plan to take it off any time soon.

“Well, yes.” She came over and checked my chart. She nodded, satisfied, and put it back. “Dying or not, however, you're fine now, but don't push yourself. A functional heart in a weak body can be just as deadly. I'm sure you'll recover quickly, but try to relax until then.

I nodded and laid back down. “It's boring in here.”

“Pardon?”

“There's nothing to watch.”

She looked at me like that seemed silly. “Well, what could you possibly watch, dear child?”

She looked around, and I realized for the first time that it was the dead of night. I hadn't even realized it was dark, for some reason.

“Um, the EKG machine,” I said, feeling embarrassed for some reason. “The IV... or the TV.”

She looked rather confused. “Those are muggle things, aren't they? Yes, that's right. It's why it took so long to get you proper care. Barbaric those muggles are.”

“We are not barbaric!” I shouted, then clapped my hands over my mouth. No one else stirred.

The nursed sighed. “I'm sorry dear, just... some of those practices make me shudder. It all seems so primitive. I mean, we can regrow bones with a simple potion. But casts, and sometimes cutting open a person and using devices and...” She shuddered. “I can't imagine the pain that person must be in. Or having to touch someone like that.”

It happened. I almost smiled. Heck, I almost giggled. For some reason it had brought to mind something I'd seen on TV that seemed very amusing to me. But I held it in. She didn't need to know that I was amused, nor would she understand what I was amused about. But she reminded me of someone on TV, and in a movie once.

“I'll get you some Sleeping Solution. I'm sure it won't be quite as boring in the morning. In fact, if you're feeling better by then, you'll be able to go to Diagon Alley for your things.”

I nodded and drank whatever it was that they gave me. And I didn't even remember going to sleep.

~///~

It was two days, actually, before I went to Diagon Alley. It was rather difficult for me. The doctors said that my body was used to having to work hard, so it was overcompensating for every effort. Pardon, they're mediwitches and stuff now. Either way, I was finally able to go to Diagon Alley with an escort. A wizard by the name of Alurn Cathoway.

Apparently he was a volunteer for St Mungo's and a local orphanage. He guided children like me around when there was no one else to do it. I'd guess he was happy to do it. He smiled the entire time.

Our first stop was a place called Olivander's, a dusty little shop with many many boxes everywhere. I was rather amazed at the sheer volume of them. And after so long of being in a sterile enviroment, it was very strange being in a place that was not only dusty, but so horribly disorganized. Then the little old man came up and began measuring me, muttering something. I didn't really catch what he was saying, and I wondered if I should be trying. But by the time that thought was completed he'd run off again, going though boxes.

“He seems awefully more excited about this than I am,” I said, watching him.

Alurn (which he insisted I call him) laughed at this, watching as well. “He's always been like this. Like each time is new.”

“Is that so?” I may have thought to say more, but I couldn't even think before he came back and shoved one of those sticks in my hand.

I stared at it a moment before he gestured that I should do something. “Well, go on! Give it a wave!”

I frowned and did as he said. Nothing happened. He frowned and took it from me, going back to the boxes.

“Is that right?” I looked up to Alurn. “Maybe they got it wrong. Maybe I'm not a witch.”

He only smiled back at me. “Angelica, it's Hogwarts. They don't get it wrong. Trust me on this one.”

I huffed a little, though it really was quite reassuring. “Easy for you to say.”

The man came back and stuck another stick in my hand and watched on eagerly. I figured I just had to do like last time, and wave it a little. This time a small jet set out and just hit the man's sleeve. I was so shocked, I dropped the wand immediately, pulling my hands to my mouth. The man caught the wand easily and went back to searching.

“There, see? You are a witch after all!”

I nodded wordlessly, still amazed that I'd done something. The man kept fumbling about with boxes and finally I realized I had no clue what was going on. I looked up to Alurn, genuinely confused. “What's going on?”

“He's just trying to find the right wand,” he said. “It takes a little bit, but I guarantee he's the best in the business.”

“If you say so...”

Then he came back with a very slender, pinkish sort of wand. It looked very delicate. Once again the wand was placed in my hand, and I gave it a wave. A very soft light came from it, and lit the air as I moved. I couldn't help but smile.

“Charms girl, aren't ya?” he asked me, grinning. Before I could respond, however, he went on ahead talking. “I know I know, you won't know until you've started school. But I guarentee you should stick with charms. Will be your best subject for sure! So, redwood wand, unicorn hair, 9 3/4 inches. That'll be five galleons.”

I blinked and looked up at Alurn, who already had the money out. Five rather large-looking coins, actually. He handed them to the mand who'd given me my wand, and I got the odd feeling I should know his name or something by now. But I wasn't very used to asking, and no one spoke up, so I decided to just leave it. I at least waved as I left the store.

We went shopping for clothes, next. Apparetly what little clothing I had didn't suit wizards, so I had to get a few sets of robes. It was rather quiet, boring, and uneventful. And I wasn't sure I fancied robes. They reminded me a lot of the robes on the fourth floor: warmer than the regular hospital gowns, but still not all there. Apparently I didn' have much of a choice. At school, at least, I would need to wear them. Of course, I could always wear something more comfortable underneath than what they had, so it wouldn't be too bad.

As we left the robe shop, Alurn laid a hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see he looked concerned.

“Aren't you happy to be going to Hogwarts?” he asked me.

I nodded. “Yeah, I am. Why?”

He sighed. “I dunno. You just never seem it. You never laugh, you never even smile.”

I looked back to the ground, ashamed. “I'm not sure I remember how to. I mean, I just can't.”

“Why not?” He continued walking, guiding me along.

“I remember something, from a while ago. Forced smiles.. fake smiles. I don't want to do that, and I know that if I do it now, that's all it'll be.” I looked back up to him, wishing I could smile for him. But I wouldn't do that. I knew if I had to think about it, it wasn't real. “I am happy, really. But it's not really something I'm used to.”

He grew quiet. Really quiet. I knew he was thinking, and wondering if he should ask me something. He was more decisive than others, because he spoke before I could say anything else. “How long have you been sick?”

“As long as I can remember.” I looked back to where we were walking, gazing at the streets and the people. And I realized just how fake so many people were. They didn't seem to really understand what was going on around them. “But in my file, I was six months old when it started. A doctor wrote on that page: failure to thrive.”

“Wow...” His voice sounded amazed and depressed at the same time. “Well, this is a big change for you then, isn't it?”

“Yeah, it is.” And I was terrified of it. I still wasn't at full strength, and I felt even weaker since the procedure. I mean, stronger, yes, but compared to before I just felt so weak. They said it was normal, but I wonder if they wrote somewhere those dreaded words again. And I so wanted to see. If they weren't there now, would they be in a few months? Those words again? I could imagine them...

Failure to thrive...

*new reader alert*

Ok, only have one word for you...wow!!

You know I almost cried during the first chapter? You write with such a passion and emotion it's amazing! Seriously this is one of the best fics I've read in awhile, and I'll definitly be coming back to read more

PAMS!!!

That there sums it all up. Although, a little less depressed and a lot more amazed. Brilliant chapter, as always, Zel, and I can't wait for more!

that was so great!! well....she will get used too smiling and stuff right I mean you can't got oo Hogwarts and not smile at least once......right? anyway GREAT POST!!

Brilliant chapter,Zelly!!! *huggles*

Brillant

*new reader*

This is such a great story, i really love it, i loved the way it started, kinda mysterious.
And the postcode thing is right , thats how we do them over here.