𝗷𝗮𝗻𝗲, harry potter

˗ˋ 116

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

── IN WHICH THEY'RE FORCED INTO 
A WARD

. . .

"They do work fairly well on non-magical wounds." Hermione pointed out as they left the ward, the sound of Mrs Weasley's upsets at her husband echoing behind them whilst the doors swung close. Ron and Ginny looked to her. "To be fair to Mr Weasley," she added. "But I suppose something in that snake's venom dissolves them or something... I wonder where the tea room is?"

"Fifth floor." Jane replied automatically; she knew all too well from her previous visits and truly wished to be unaware of the factor. However, if she could lend her knowledge this time, perhaps she could avoid what had happened the time before.

Of course, this wouldn't be the case, but she was yet to know that, and smiled most pleasantly when Harry took her hand and pulled her along after with them. "You okay?" He asked with a similar grin, more comfortable and happy on Christmas day than he had been since arriving back at Grimmauld Place, particularly under the circumstances.

And Jane nodded, because she wasn't going to exploit the trust placed in her by those who cared for Mr and Mrs Longbottom, nor was she going to dull the shine Harry finally had in his eyes at feeling somewhat normal once more.  

They walked along the corridor through a set of double doors and found a rickety staircase lined with more portraits of brutal-looking Healers. As they climbed it, the various Healers called out to them, diagnosing odd complaints and suggesting horrible remedies. Ron was seriously affronted when a medieval wizard called out that he clearly had a bad case of spattergroit. 

"And what's that supposed to be?" he asked angrily, as the Healer pursued him through six more portraits, shoving the occupants out of the way, ignoring their chimes of protest. 

"'Tis a most grievous affliction of the skin, young master," the man in the portrait announced. "that will leave you pockmarked and more gruesome even than you are now-" 

"Watch who you're calling gruesome!" Ron's ears turned red out of simultaneous anger and embarassment. The wizard, however, ignored him.

"The only remedy is to take the liver of a toad, bind it tight about your throat, stand naked by the full moon in a barrel of eels' eyes-" 

"I have not got spattergroit!" 

"But the unsightly blemishes upon your visage, young master-" 

"They're freckles!" Ron announced furiously, giggles leaving Jane and Ginny's lips before they could stop them. "Now get back in your own picture and leave me alone!" 

As they continued on, to their very surprise, Jane was confronted by one of the famed Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers she had heard so much about, Gilderoy Lockhart, who offered them numerous autographs, was affronted when they didn't want any and was quickly joined by the same healer who had seen Mrs Longbottom with Jane, who seemed, unlike before, entirely joyous that Lockhart had recieved some visitors. 

She didn't seem to recognise Jane as she insisted that they could come into the private ward to see him, despite the current title, and the group was pressured into entering for just a short while, as Ron concluded, when it became obvious they couldn't get out of the visit. In a low voice, Jane's eyes remaining steadily on the blond man being settled into a bed in front of them, the Healer explained that the ward was for those with long-term spell damage that only saw a little progress every now and again, before abandoning them with the former celebrity to dole out the rest of the presents to the residents. 

She didn't dare look away, and watched as Lockhart pulled a fresh stack of photographs toward him, seized a quill, and started signing them all feverishly. Jane, nose wrinkled in her discomfort, leaned closer to Harry, who still had quite the grip around her hand. 

Her chin balanced on his shoulder. "Who is he, again?" She asked in nothing more than a murmur.

The cold of his glasses frame pressed against her temple as he turned to her to reply. "Second year teacher. Thought he was the best wizard in the world." Harry began in a similar volume, not wanting to disgruntle the man they were speaking of. "Thought he could save people, couldn't, me and Ron figured out he was a fraud, he tried to Confund us with Ron's broken wand, permamently erased his own memory." 

"Ah." Jane nodded. "I see."

"You can put them in envelopes," Gilderoy was saying to Ginny, throwing the signed pictures into her lap one by one as he finished them. "I am not forgotten, you know, no, I still receive a very great deal of fan mail... Gladys Gudgeon writes weekly... I just wish I knew why..." He paused, looking faintly puzzled, then beamed again and returned to his signing with renewed vigor. "I suspect it is simply my good looks..." 

Jane made a face, pushing her lips into Harry's coat to hide it before her attention was drawn away from Lockhart for the first time since stepping foot in the ward; there was a sallow-skinned, mournful-looking wizard lay in the bed opposite, staring at the ceiling; he was mumbling to himself and seemed quite unaware of anything around him. Then, she heard a bark and found that two beds along was a woman whose entire head was covered in fur - some kind of attempt at transmogrification. 

And the far end of the ward flowery curtains had been drawn around two beds to give the occupants and their visitors some privacy. "Here you are, Agnes," the Healer said brightly to the furry-faced woman, handing her a small pile of Christmas presents. "See, not forgotten, are you? And your son's sent an owl to say he's visiting tonight, so that's nice, isn't it?" Jane watched, as did Harry, as Agnes gave several loud barks and the Healer continued on to the mumbling man.

 "And look, Broderick, you've been sent a potted plant and alovely calendar with a different fancy hippogriff for each month, they'll brighten things up, won't they?" The Healer continued and set a rather ugly plant with long, swaying tentacles on the bedside cabinet and fixing the calendar to the wall with her wand. "And - oh, Mrs Longbottom, are you leaving already?" 

And Jane's eyes remained fixated on Gilderoy Lockhart, feeling uneasy and sick to her stomach as Harry and Ron's head shot towards the sound of the familiar name. 

The unease of the awful, awful, jealousy had returned.  

✧

a/n
i'm so sorry if these chapters 
are boring its a necessity for jane's
character development, but i swear 
once we're out of christmas and 
back on the letters itll get juicy <33