𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝘁𝗼𝗰𝗸, harry potter

˗ˋ 107

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED
AND SEVEN
✧
-: fifth year :-

── IN WHICH MR WEASLEY 
IS ALRIGHT

. . .

Aviana hadn't been in that ward before. When she was given her tour of St. Mungo's, it had been brushed over as though it was hardly even there, too dangerous for a simple visitor to enter. It was small and dingy, with a singular, narrow window set high in the wall opposite the door. Light instead came from the many shining crystal bubbles that sat in the middle of the ceiling with dark walls of panelled oak and a large portrait of Urquhart Rackharrow looming over the patients, of which there were only free.

Mr Weasley sat in the end bed, nearest to the window, propped up on several pillows and reading the Daily Prophet. "Hello!" He announced as he saw them enter, beaming and throwing the newspaper to the side. "Bill just left, Molly, had to get back to work, but he says he'll drop in on you later." 

"How are you, Arthur?" Mrs Weasley asked anxiously as they crowded around his bed, the woman bending down to kiss her husband on the cheek. "You're still looking a bit peaky..."

"I feel absolutely fine." Mr Weasley replied brightly, holding out his good arm to give Ginny a hug. Aviana hung back from the group, watching warily. "If only they could take of these bandages, I'd be fit to go home." 

 "Why can't they take them off, Dad?" Fred asked. 

"Well, I start bleeding like mad every time they try." Mr Weasley replied all too cheerfully, reaching across for his wand as it rested on the bedside cabinet and waving it, seven extra chairs appear around his bed to seat them all. "It seems there was some rather unusual kind of poison in that snake's fangs that keeps wounds open..."

Harry's glance remained primarily on Mr Weasley. But in the corner of his eye he saw Aviana shift, her hands fall into her lap from the arms of the chair and her fingers knitted together, pressing into her skin and creating small, pale prints of pressure.

"They're sure they'll find an antidote, though." Mr Weasley said with more than a positive resolve. "They say they've had much worse cases than mine-"

"Sebine Sawdon." Aviana interrupted. "She was bit twenty-eight times by an freshly-hatched Ashwinder she had bred, leaving her covered in burns." 

"Yes... Sabine Sawdon." Mr Weasley seemed to have not entirely accounted for Aviana's presence and appeared shocked she was there, before nodding solemnly and continuing. "In the meantime, though, I just have to keep taking a Blood Replenishing Potion every hour." He said cheerfully, gesturing at the bottle on his bedside table. "But that fellow,"  Mr Weasley lowered his voice and nodded towards the bed opposite him, who looked green and sickly and did nothing but stare up at the ceiling, "Bitten by a werewolf, poor chap. No cure at all." 

Mrs Weasley looked positively alarmed. "A werewolf?" She repeated, as she swotted Mr Weasley's newspaper towards his overly-interested children as they peered over at the man. "Is he safe in a public ward? Shouldn't he be in a private ward?" 

"It's two weeks until the next full moon." Aviana drawled. Whilst everyone else was particularly inquisitive towards the man, she had glanced over once and turned back to hear Mrs Weasley's comments and her face turned into a steady frown. Harry remembered, quite easily, how she had only had anything positive to say, and just how she had reacted to Umbridge's comments about, Remus. "The hospital will have a supply of Wolfsbane Potion... Greyback's a dickhead."