Chapter Text
The rain slammed mercilessly down on the tainted windowpanes of the Hogwarts Express as it meandered around the English countryside, its bright-red chimney occasionally letting out a puff of discouraged smoke. Raindrops splashed down into the distant lakes as bright flashes of lightning illuminated the skies, followed by the boom of thunder.
Against the dreary backdrop, the bright-red exterior of the train seemed quite out of place. Warm light is emanating from each one of its numerous compartments— through the windows, one could see the each cubicle was bustling with activity.
Inside one of these compartments sat a girl. To be more precise, there sat three girls, but we’re only going to focus on one of them. This girl had her head pressed sideways against the windowpanes and her arms folded in front of her chest. She was trying to fall asleep, but was met with no success. Her head banged painfully against the window every time the train shook or when they took a turn. The only thing she was able to get was a massive headache.
The girl’s name was Quinn Geneweye, a sixth-year Ravenclaw. Prefect (reluctantly, but that’s a whole different story) and the five-year consecutive goalkeeper for the Ravenclaw Quidditch Team. The first part of her journey was spent policing the corridors, where she stopped some fourth years from setting off dungbomb and confiscated a nose-biting teacup, originally a gift for some unsuspecting second-year. After her shift ended, she gave up her seat in the prefect carriage, thinking it’s too much of a nightmare, and instead opted for some random seat in a compartment with a bunch of fresh-faced eleven year-olds, who bolted upright in their seats as soon as she came in. Although slightly put-off by this, she saw no other option but to throw her luggage into the overhead rack and sleep — or pretend to sleep.
She wrapped her newly-bought robes around herself, shivering at the slight cold traveling through the windows. The robes felt foreign on her sloping shoulders, and had a rather interesting smell — something between damp fabric and burning gasoline. Her prefect badge was pinned lopsidedly beneath her left lapel and her dark brown hair spilled down her shoulders, covering parts of her face. After spending about twenty minutes with her, the first-years beside her have begun to relax and talk quietly amongst themselves. She highly suspected their conversation was somehow centered around her, but decided that she couldn’t care less.
The rain thickened as the train sped further north, thundering against the hood of the car. First time the weather’s been this rotten, she though quietly to herself. The sky darkened further, which she didn’t think was possible. Then she felt the train slowing down. Yes, it was getting slower and slower. The unmistakable sound of the pistons grinding against the wheels was there, sending small sparks flying into the dead of night. The lamps in the hallway rocked and flickered, clanging against the walls and compartment doors. She heard commotion outside, and debated whether to go out and check. There were knocks and faces peering through the compartment door, but they quickly retreated when they saw it was just some first-years and an angry-looking Ravenclaw girl.
Whatever. It’s probably just faulty train wheels or something. She quickly glanced at the window, and was slightly surprised when she saw that it was whitened and covered with vapor. Dismissing it as a product of the cold weather, she pocketed her wand and prepared to leave.
Time to get out of this damn weather.
Her heart skipped a beat as the train grinded to a halt— we must be there, she thought. She stood up to gather her belongings and quickly report back the the prefect carriage, but was stopped in her tracks when she noticed they were still in the middle of nowhere. One of the first years has rubbed a small circle on the glass so that the vapor was cleared, and it was apparent that they were still somewhere on a hillside, with Hogwarts Castle nowhere in sight.
“What happened?” One of the first-years next to her asked. Quinn shook her head. “There must be something wrong with the train.”
“Why have we stopped?” Another voice piped up. Ignoring her, Quinn walked over the the door. Sliding it open, she peeked outside. The corridor lights have been extinguished, and the whole train was plunged into darkness. People were flooding out of their compartments, and she heard shouting from somewhere to her left.
As she stepped back into the compartment, she nearly tripped over one of the first-year’s robes and stumbled clumsily back into her seat.
“It’s probably just a power outage — wait, is that a muggle thing? Can that happen here? I really don’t know that much about trains, not even magical ones.”
The first-years shrugged.
Suddenly, a wave of cold flooded through her. It started from the tips of her fingertips, journeys up her arm, and exploded outwards until it reached to top of her head and the tip of her toes. She shivered in her seat, her head ringing. The cold stung her skin, and reached the innermost parts of her body—the feelings it brought, it was dizziness, despair, helplessness, like drowning in the frozen deep sea.
“Why.. Why’s it so cold?” The girl sitting next her muttered “You guys feel it too, right?”
Her frozen hand reached down to fumble for her wand. Enclosing her rigid fingers around the familiar weapon, she whispered Lumos under her breath, gave it a little flick, and it immediately produced a small white spark on its tip. The first-years stared at her in awe.
“It’s not that hard. You’ll learn it in charms this year.”
Standing up again, she made her way towards the door of the compartment. Raising her wand, she inspected the surroundings.
Then she saw the figure.
Gasping, she fell back, fumbling to shut the door of the compartment, fingers slipping on the frozen handle.
“What happened, what is it?” The first-years asked in unison.
“Something…. Something…” she said.
It was a dementor.
Of course, she should have known. With Sirius Black on the loose, Hogwarts, as a school, must have taken extra precautions to ensure the safety of its students. Perhaps having the guards of Azkaban roam it’s corridors was the method they chose. But the black-hooded figure with the hooded face was downright scary, and if it was up to her, she definitely wouldn’t have those things near her students. Maybe they weren’t here for her, but the one outside looked so menacing, and she couldn’t help but feel weighed down by the huge emotional baggage she was suddenly reminded of.
“Quiet.” She hissed at the first-years. “Stay back. Try to be calm. Don’t attract its attention.”
The three young figures rushed into the corner where they cowered, shivering.
Quinn could feel the dementor approaching, as wave after wave of cold washed over her tingling body, and her legs threatened to buckle underneath her.
She locked the compartment door, and moved the suitcase to act as a bar. Quickly extinguishing her wand to avoid attracting any more attention, she backed up against the compartment door, and pressed her self against it, hoping she’ll be able to shield the first years from the dementors view, slightly more confident in her ability to go against them.
And the she felt it.
The dementor outside drew a long, rattling breath, and she felt herself being involuntarily drawn towards it. Cold, cold than ever before, attacked her insides, weighing her down, burying her under layers of confusion and solid ice. There was a rushing in her ears, and she feels like she had lost her ability to think straight. She raised her wand, and felt her own throat constrict, unable to speak.
“Expecto…”
The first years screamed, terrified, and one of them burst into tears. It was like the dement was sucking something out of Quinn, not just air. Her features morphed and lines blurred, and she fell down onto the floor.
“Expecto Patronum!”
She couldn’t remember of she’d remember the spell correctly. It was something mentioned in an already distant Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. As the roaring in her ears grew louder, she moaned and dropped her wand, falling onto her side.
Then she felt herself falling, no tumbling down the stairs. There were voices in the distance.
That was the last thing she remembered.
— - — —
“Oh, thank Merlin. You’re awake. “
As she opened her eyes, she saw Madame Pomfrey hovering over her. Her eyesight was still blurry, and her headache had not abided, and if not, it was worse.
Once her vision learned up she become aware of her surroundings. She was lying in a bed in the Hogwarts infirmary, under Madame Pomfrey’s care. Although the curtains around her bed were drawn up, she noticed sunlight streaming through fabric, casting down onto her stark white bedsheets.
“We were so afraid. Never happened to a student before. And definitely never to one so fragile.”
Slightly insulted at being called fragile, but confused nonetheless, she attempted to sit up in the bed. Her limbs buckled involuntarily, and Quinn fell down onto the pillow, skull banging against the headboard.
“The dementors…” she mumbled.
“I know.” Madame Pomfrey muttered. “Poor thing. They had no right to prey on you” She reached down to the tray she had recently placed onto Quinn’s bedside table and retrieved a pice of chocolate. “Here, have some of these.”
She gratefully took it, quickly quickly popped it into her waiting mouth. Right now, this was the best taste in the world. Creeping warmth was returning to her body, reigniting her senses, and even though she was still weak of limb, her mind and thoughts were clearing up.
“Feeling better?” Madame Pomfrey asked, wiping her hand on her apron. Quinn nodded.
“Good. You’ll be expected to stay here for a few more days. You suffered cranial injury when you fell down. Those first-years were terrified.”
That explains the headache, she thought. As much as she resented having to spend days in bed, especially at the start of the semester, she relented, by thinking that she’s not missing much. For the first few lessons, all the professors are probably all going to introduce them to the NEWT curriculum, and since she already did a little touching up at home, she figured she’ll be fine.
As Madame Pomfrey collected the tray and made to leave, Quinn held her back for one more question.
“It felt so strange. I feel so dizzy.” She said, holding a hand up to her forehead. “The dementors, are they gone?”
“I’m afraid not.”
A foreign voice. A male voice.
“Thank you, Poppy.”
Madame Pomfrey sighed. “Remember, you can only have a few minutes. I’m not even sure she wants to talk to you.” Then she reluctantly pulled the curtains open, revealing a tall man standing some distance from the bed.
He was unfamiliar, definitely not any adult she knows. He was very tall, wearing an old cardigan with his robes thrown quite carelessly over his broad shoulders. His face was pale, and he had a small moustache, but that could’t stop her from noticing the scars that adorned his face.
“I don’t believe we’ve met, Miss Geneweye.”
He placed his hand on the foot of the bed. “I’m Professor R.J Lupin, the New Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.”
Ah, that makes sense.
“Quinn Geneweye, professor” she answered.
The professor paused for a moment, wondering whether he should continue. Seeing the girl stare intently into his eyes, he finally spoke:
“You must be wondering why I came to see you. You see, I found a dog in the train corridors last night, and I was wondering whether it belonged to you.”
Quinn was struck by surprise. “But…. I don’t own a dog, Professor.”
Professor Lupin laughed. “I know. You have a very impressive Patronus there, Miss Geneweye.”
Huh. She had no idea that spell actually worked.
“You mean, it took shape? I conjured a corporeal patronus !That never happened before for me.” The closest thing to a Patronus she was able to produce was a white mist that always blinded her eyes.
“Sometimes when we’re thrust into dire situations, I find that we often surprise ourselves. Yours took shape of an Impressive Egyptian Hound. I ought to congratulate you, Miss Geneweye. A truly marvelous achievement for someone so young. You were very brave. ”
“I’de never image my patrons to be a dog. I’d always thought it would be like an owl or some sort of bird. Lots of Ravenclaws have thing along that line.”
“Maybe some do, but Patronuses are really quite unpredictable. Sometimes the qualities they reflect are even hidden to ourselves. That’s the beauty of it. It’s part of self-discovery.”
A moment of silence permitted her to think.
“Professor.. You said something about the dementors not being gone?”
“I’m afraid so. The Ministry of Magic has decreed that dementors must be stationed near every gate to Hogwarts. I’m sure they’re doing it for a good cause, but I’m sure you won’t be the last on fainting this year.”
Her cheeks reddened at the thought. Has she really passed out in that compartment? What would those poor first-years think of her — Will they be scarred for life?”
“Don’t worry, it’s not your fault. Happens even to the best of us.” He cautiously took her hand in his, and squeezed it gently when she did not protest.
“Those first-years … what would they think of me? I must have scared them halve to death.”
The professor chucked. “In my opinion, those kids should have been thankful. If you weren’t there, who knows what might have happened to them, defenseless as they are. I really ought to give them some extra briefing on dementors during one of our lessons. Those first-years were the ones who ran to get me—I was on my way to talk to the driver when two red-faced young girls with tears streaming down their cheeks latched onto my arms and pulled me towards you! I was really worried— when I pulled open the compartment doors I saw you laying down on the floor and I immediately know what happened. These dementors really knows no bounds, preying on innocent souls like that. Someone in my compartment got attacked too.”
“Who?” She asked out of curiosity. “You might as well tell me — I’m going to be in bed for the next few days, and by then, I’m sure everyone would know.
Professor Lupin hesitated for a moment before leaning closer and whispering, “Harry Potter.”
Quinn was surprised. “Harry Potter? The boy with that scar? Is he alright?”
“Well, I was lucky enough to be in his compartment when the dementors came, and when he was attacked, I managed to ward them off. Mr Potter’s quite fine now. You definitely had it worse off. Thank Merlin we found you in time. When you didn’t wake up, we were so worried — we Brough you to Madame Pomfrey immediately. ”
“Thank you.” She said quietly.
Glancing at her head injury, Lupin creased his brow. “That looks nasty. You feeling fine?”
“I don’t think it’s that big a deal. I hit my head on the compartment door when I fell.”
“Good, good. I don’t want to rush you but, you think you’d still be able to do classwork? It’s the beginning of your NEWT years, and I would hat for anyone to fall behind, especially a bright student like you. If you like, I could bring a summary of today’s topics to you.”
“I’m fine. It’s just a bump. And thank you, Professor”
Lupin smiled, patting her hand. “Good. Just don’t overwork yourself. I’ve found out that you Ravenclaw’s have a tendency to do that.”
Quinn chuckled. “I promise. I won’t.”
Lupin laughed. “Here. I brought you this.” His hand reached into his pocket and he pulled out a giant bar of what was coincidentally her favorite Honeydukes chocolate bar, handing it to her. “Have this. This is way better than the ones the school have.”
The Professor smiled and Quinn stared, mesmerized. Suddenly feeling very self-conscious, she adjusted the blanket covering the lower part of her body, a blush creeping up from her collar. This was the first time a boy (well, a man) had visited her in the infirmary. It felt different.
“Thank you… Professor.”
“That’s enough, Remus.” Madame Pomfey’s voice echoed through the quiet space, as she violently yanked open the curtains. “Off you go. Miss Geneweye needs her rest.”
“Thank you, Poppy, just catching her up on some class stuff.” He winked at her. “Well, I’ll be off now.”
Remus. What a nice name.
“Goodbye.” Quinn muttered quietly. She wasn’t sure whether he had heard her, and watched silently as he exited the infirmary’s large doors.
“Finally, a Defense against the dark arts teacher who knows his remedies,” Madame Pomfey exclaimed, noticing the bar of chocolate clasped tightly in her hand. “Honeydukes—nice.”
“Oh, and before I forget, Filius told me that you don’t need to worry about your prefect duties while your convalescing. And no quidditch for the rest of the year.”
“WHAT?”
— — —
Bed rest dragged on and on. She knew she shouldn't have agreed to stay here in the first place, and Madame Pomfrey has just grown more fussy as time passed. After shooing away a couple of her friends, she fed her an awful cup of Skele-gro that made her stomach convulse just thinking of it.
An enthusiastic second-year had stopped by to drop her homework and assignments, but was immediately kicked out by a fuming Madame Pomfrey, followed by the words “Tell those old nitwits outside that I can’t have her working!”
She waited until nurse was asleep (Madame Pomfrey slept earlier these days — only during these nights can she properly get rested.) , and crept silently over to Pomfrey’s desk, where her books were currently being detained. Working open the cupboard lock with a simple jinx, she quickly retrieved her books and tiptoed back to her bed.
Accompanying the books were several notes from her different professors, listing the lessons they’ve taught during the past few days. The most detailed had to be from Professor Lupin — five pages of neat script on lined paper, accompanied by some messy, albeit weirdly cute, diagrams showing a bunch of inferi, which were deceased bodies reanimated with a dark wizard’s curse. She decided to start with her least favorite, potions, and retrieved the small purple book from the pile.
Slipping under her covers and flipping open the first few pages of Advanced Potion Making by Libatius Borage, she pressed the book to her nose, it’s spine cracking deliciously, and inhaled. Hmmm. Fresh pages. Her favorite.
Glancing at the small note Professor Snape left her, she quickly located the page on the Drought of Living Death began reading:
“The Draught of Living Death brings upon its drinker a very powerful sleep that can last indefinitely. This draught is very dangerous if not used with caution ... This is an extremely dangerous potion. Execute with maximum caution.”
She ever really liked potions. Everything was so uncertain, and one small misshape could end up killing them all. Not to mention that hawk-nosed Snape who made it his goal to give every a hard time. She was surprised, let along slightly insulted, when hearing the rumor last year about a second-year Gryffindor managing to concoct a successful Polyjuice potion, because she had never been the best potion brewer, and find Polyjuice difficult even to this day, barely scraping by the line during her OWLs.
Slamming the book shut, she stuffed it into the bedside drawer and laid down onto the bed, moving the blanket so that it covered half of her face.
When is she getting out of here?
— — —
“Rise and shine, Miss Geneweye.”
Quinn was awakened by Madame Pomfrey’s loud call, and a few bangs on the bedpans for added for affect. Roughly pulling open the curtains, she was immediately greeted by the nurse staring intently into her eyes. . “You seem better,” she concluded after a few moments. Quinn flinched.
“Do I?” She muttered quietly. “Good enough to leave?”
Madame Pomfrey tutted. “No, not yet. Be patient, Miss Geneweye. You should really start taking your condition seriously.” With that, she swept away, and resumed her earlier task of scrubbing the bedside drawers.
“I am taking it seriously. I just don’t get why I have to spend any more time in here. I don’t see that Potter boy wasting his precious hours here.”
“Potter’s diferent. Professor Lupin was able to intervene on time. You, however…” She looked up and shot warning look and Quinn.
Quinn groaned, interrupting her sentence, and slumped back onto the bed. “I’ve definitely seen better days,” she muttered. It occurred to her that by now, her Quidditch team captain would have probably started to look for her replacement. It made her blood boil just thinking about it. That stupid git, Roger Davies — he was probably going to try and get his little friend Burrow into the team — that kid could barely ride a broom, and the only winning quality he has are probably those ridiculously long arms and legs.
“Oh yes, I almost forgot. Professor Lupin dropped in earlier today to ask whether you were satisfied with his teaching notes.”
“Yes, of course I am.” She answered.
“Good, good.” Madame Pomfrey answered absentmindedly. “He’s a very nice guy, Remus. A very kind boy back in his student years, and now, from what it looks like, a fairly decent defense against the dark arts professor. I heard the third-years were particularly impressed with his lesson on Boggarts. Had one of ‘em turning into Professor Snape! I remember that bumbling idiot we had here last year; what was his name? Lockhart, right. I recall him taking out Potter’s arm. And his Dueling Club, oh my, absolutely ridiculous! Had students in here with their limbs blasted off!”
Nobody could forget Gilderoy Lockhart. He had tested his self-invented shampoo on her classmates during one of their DADA classes, and her eyebrows grew to 3-feet long. Truly ridiculous, but perhaps he had more talent as a potions master than a, well, whatever he is.
— — —
During the day, Madame Pomfrey had reluctantly handed the rest of Quinn’s books to her under her constant pestering, and also allowed her to make a small round of the school in order to hand in her assignments.
“If you don’t come back in time, Miss Geneweye, I am warning you, I will personally send those dementors after you!”
Clutching her papers to her chest, Quinn walked hurriedly through the empty halls, determined to prove to Madame Pomfrey she was well enough to beat the time-limit the matron had set for her. She had already been’s to Snape’s and Mcgonagall’s room, having decided to work her way upwards through the castle, and her next stop was DADA on the third floor.
Knocking on the closed doors, she could telll by the muffled voices that Professor Lupin was currently teaching inside. She debated whether she should continue knocking, but was saved the effort when the doors swung open.
“Ah, Miss Geneweye. Come to join us?”
Lupin stood grinning at her from the doorway. She couldn’t help but notice how much better he looked. Maybe after a few decent meals and a nice change of clothes, his complexion has greatly improved, color now returned to his cheeks. His hair however, was as messy as it always is.
“I’m afraid not, Professor. Madame Pomfrey’s determined to keep me hostage for a few more days. However, she allowed me to go around the grounds one in order to hand in my assignments. Here’s my essay on the Inferi—two rolls of parchment, like you asked for. I might have gone a bit overboard, but they’re really quite interesting.”
Lupin chuckled. “Thank you, Miss Geneweye. I really hope you have’t overworked yourself. I told you not to, remember? You know, most of your classmates didn’t even bother to hand it in. I can’t really do anything about it, so early on in the year, and really, and I’d thought writing about animated corpses wouldn’t be in the interest of a sixteen year old, so I just decided to let them go this one time, since many of them were also complaining about the Potions homework.”
Potions really was a nightmare.
“Well, Snapes going to be Snape. Didn’t really expect much of anything else. I guess I just didn’t realize how hard NEWT potions was going to be. Should have taken Muggle Studies.” While she was speaking, Lupin flipped through her work.
“Brilliant, Miss Geneweye,” he muttered. “I loved how you included this paragraph on telling Inferi apart from what Muggles call ‘Zombies’,” he said, jabbing his finger at her messy script “very ingenious, and your description of an Inferius, just brilliant. Could use a little improvement on the practical side of dealing with Inferi, but we’ll work on that.”
“Thank you, Professor. I still have things to —”
He suddenly snapped out of his grading reverie and quickly said “Yes, yes, I understand. I won’t keep you. Gotta get back to my class too.”
“Right. Goodbye, Professor.”
“Goodbye, Miss Geneweye.”
As she turned to walk away, she heard Lupin hollering “Alright class, that’s enough. Repeat after me—”
And then the door slammed shut.
— — —
“You’re late, Miss Geneweye.”
Oh, Merlin.
“Sorry,” she muttered quietly, scampering like a cat with a guilty conscience towards the bed, quickly stripping herself of her outer robes, and quietly slipping under the covers.
“Pick up your uniform!” Madame Pomfey hollered. Quinn quickly did what she was told. It would be useful to not have the ward mad at her. She messily stuffed her robes under the bed. Loosening her tie, she breathed a sigh of relief as Madame Pomfrey turned away and stalked towards her office.
Snapping off a piece of chocolate from Professor Lupin’s bar, she savored the sweet sensation as it melted on her tongue, refilling her with warmth and making her grin like a madman.
Madame Pomfrey returned a few moments later with her wand and clipboard. After performing a few basic health checks on her, she used her wand to painfully shine a light into Quinn’s eyes.
“Ow,” Quinn protested.
“Sit still.”
As her pupils dilated, Madame Pomfrey retracted the wand and performed a spell so that her bulging eyes instantly felt better. She then scribbled something onto her notepad.
“What was that for?”
“Some say that a person’s eyes is the gateway to their soul. Sometimes I find it helpful to look at someones eyes when they’re recovering — works extra well here. You seem to be feeling quite giddy, Miss Geneweye. I guess the dementor’s effect is finally starting to wear off.”
“Thank you!” Quinn said. Thank you, chocolate.
Madame Pomfrey then grabbed both sides of Quinn’s head and tilted it at an awkward angle. Inspecting her now rapidly recovering bruise, she nodded. Letting go of her head, Quinn watched as she ticked a few boxes on her sheet.
“You’ll be getting out of here tomorrow morning.”
Finally, Quinn thought.
“Don’t look too happy, Miss Geneweye. You’ve still got tonight to get through.” Madame Pomfrey laughed. “You are really one of the most restless patients I’ve ever had.”
Choosing not to believe that, Quinn leaned comfortably back in bed, tucking her arms under her head. She was finally going to be able to reunite with her friends. Poor guys must have received quite a tongue-lashing from Pomfrey when they tried to visit her. Maybe she could find a chance to apologize to those poor first-years she scared on the train. No, no, too early to think about that now. She should get some rest, lest Pomfrey finds another stupid reason to keep her.
Discarding her books and promising herself that she would relax, she laid back in bed, but not before conjuring herself a glass of water with her wand. Not a bad opportunity to practice charms, although she went a bit overboard and ended up spilling water on the bedsheets because the cup was overflowing.
The night passed relatively quickly, as Quinn spent most of it in bed. And Pomfrey, perhaps sad to see her only patient go, spent half of the night standing at her bedside, staring at her. Quinn wanted to remind her than Quidditch season was starting soon, and that new patients would come rolling in then, but was determined to maintain her image of peaceful slumber and put on a show for the ward.
Next morning, Quinn woke up at what must have been the earliest time she was capable of, and found Pomfrey asleep in the bed next to her. Not wanting to wake her and feeling a tad bit of sorriness for the old matron, she slipped back under the covers and stared at the arched ceilings, beginning to lay out her plans for the day. She would have to go to lessons, of course, but what to do before, what to do after? Could she visit the Quidditch pitch? She was itching to fly. Sure, she is not able to play in the tournament, but surely a little harmless flying won’t hurt. She wasn’t sure Pomfrey was going to let her go early enough in order for her to head for breakfast, but she was determined not to miss her first lesson.
Being in bed for the past few days, she was still unfamiliar with her year group’s timetable, and was counting on her friends being in the same classes as her so they could lead her around. She was disappointed when she found out none of them took potions, but fairly happy when most of their other subjects coincided.
After a few moments, she suddenly found herself desperately wishing that their first class would be DADA. Not only was all her friends in the same group, but she would get the opportunity to talk to Professor Lupin again. Their last conversation had cheered her up immensely, which was certainly a contributing factor in Pomfrey letting her out early. and she found that he had just the way to compliment people.
Her train of thought was interrupted by Madame Pomfrey waking up with a loud snort on the bed beside her.
“Miss Geneweye, already woken? I’m slightly insulted.”
For the first time in a few days Quinn thought to herself that she would miss the only occasionally overbearing matron.
“Just enjoying the sunshine, ma’am.”
Madame Pomfrey huffed softly and startled her usual bustle of activity around the ward, starting with animating an apparatus of brooms and buckets. “Well, as I’m sure you have not forgotten, its check out day, Miss Geneweye. I’ve taken the liberty of sorting your books. They’re on the counter over there. Don’t you dare take this as an invitation to overwork yourself because—”
“I’ll be fine ma’am. It’s the start of the semester! Any professor who dares to overwork us can expect to find some finely crafted complaints and dungbombs in their closets.”
“Oh my.” Madame Pomfrey exclaimed. “Don’t you go and get yourself into any trouble. There’s your uniform. I can have someone come in and clean it if you want.”
“Looks fine to me,” Quinn muttered, having already pulled on her shirt and was buttoning her skirt. The fabric was crisp and freshly ironed, and she doesn’t remember a time when her skirt was this lint-free.
“Ah well, I suppose that’s all there is for me to say. Remember, none of your crazy studying routines, and definitely no Quidditch. And any time you feel the tiniest bit queasy remember to come back here so I can have a look.”
By this time Quinn had already fastened her tie and pulled her robe over her shoulders. Smiling, she made her way over to the matron and gave her a little hug, noticing how the top of Madame Pomfrey’s head is almost level with her own without her nurses cap, somehow making her less intimidating.
Pulling away, Madame Pomfrey reached into her apron and produced another bar of chocolate. “I thought you’d be almost done with your last one, and I know Remus is giving you that fancy stuff from Hogsmead, but save this, just in case.”
“Thank you.” Quinn graciously accepted the bar of chocolate and tucked it into her side pocket, along with her wand. After a moment of hesitation, she said “well, I’de better get going. Breakfast is almost ending.”
“Of course, of course.” The matron smiled. “Take care of yourself, will you?” She walked over to the cabinet and collected Quinn’s books. “Here.”
Quinn smiled once more as she hoisted the books up against her chest. “Goodbye, ma’am. Thanks again.” And with that, she turned and walked out of the infirmary for what she hoped, but knew definitely was not, the last time this year.