Capítulo 447: Infirmary Leave
Tragically, Rowan missed the Triwizard Tournament Champion Ceremony as was not released from the infirmary until the following morning. At least she had Aunt Georgine and her grandfather to keep her company. In fact, Georgine even went as far as to raid the Hogwarts kitchens and turned up with a small feast of their own.
Madam Pomfrey attempted to protest, but Georgine being the clever Slytherin that she was had brought along extra trays of food for the other patients in the infirmary, and a platter filled with Madam Pomfrey's favorite tidbits. Even a Hufflepuff like Madam Pomfrey found it a tad difficult to resist such mouth-watering morsels. Eventually, the infirmary matron gave in to the bribe, but not before saying, "Everyone please only eat as much as you should. I don't want anyone getting sick from overeating."
The time quickly passed by until Rowan fell fast asleep. A loud cough pierced through the cloud of sleep causing her to blink her eyes and blurrily glance around, before rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Sitting down in a chair next to Rowan's despite the early hour are the two figures of Aunt Georgine and her Grandfather, who looked as though they had been up for hours.
This made Rowan narrow her eyes as she yawned loudly and wondered if the two of them had even left the infirmary last night to sleep back at the Slytherin guest quarters or if they had truly stayed in the infirmary the entire night watching over her. A part of her highly doubted that would be the case with Madam Pomfrey's tendencies, then again, this was Georgine Prince, who regularly talked down to tougher healers, and Madam Pomfrey would be a piece of cake when in comparison. And if that was true, how embarrassing!
The tip of Rowan's ears turns pink at the mere thought that her aunt and grandfather could have possibly seen her snort and drool during the night. Normally, this wouldn't be embarrassing at all with her friends, but this was her grandfather and aunt. They always were so composed and dignified, and for them to see her in such an undignified manner made her feel wholly mortified.
Trying to cover up her embarrassment, Rowan murmurs, "Good Morning."
"Good morning to you too, child," Georgine muttered with a smirk as she glanced up from the latest edition of Witch Weekly which featured a rather strapping Quidditch player on the cover of the news rag, and a title that read, "Anton Rouge, Most Charming Smile Award." And in smaller letters to the side, it adds, "Turn to page three for more information on the latest Most Charming Smile Awardee."
Trying not to roll her eyes, Rowan snorts at being reminded of Gilderoy Lockhart, who had won that award five times from the magazine. Before she can continue her thoughts on the subject, Reginald asks, "And how are you feeling this morning, Rowan?"
"Much better grandfather, thank you for asking," Rowan truthfully replied as she moved her body side to side rather lightly to wince at feeling her left shoulder move. "I feel a lot better really and I don't feel tired anymore. But my left shoulder is still rather sore."
"That is good to hear," Reginald muttered looking much more appeased as he leaned back into his seat. Glancing to the side, he listens for the sound of approaching footsteps and says, "It would seem that the matron is on her way."
Not a minute after the bed curtains are pulled to the side with a soft screech to reveal the bustling figure of Madam Pomfrey. "Good morning, Miss Prince," Madam Pomfrey cheerfully said in a brisk tone of voice. "Now just be still there for a moment, Miss Prince, I must run a few tests and if all goes well, you'll be able to join your friends and your brother in the Great Hall this morning for brunch."
"Oh good," Rowan grumbled in relief. She'd been growing rather bored while stuck in the infirmary with nothing to do. If she had at least one book to read, it wouldn't have been so bad.
With a wave of her wand, Madam Pomfrey mutters the incantation, before a light pulsing dark glow can be seen still on Rowan's left shoulder. Putting her wand away, Madam Pomfrey says, "The good news is that you can leave the infirmary this morning, Miss Prince. The wound has closed and won't easily reopen. However, that being said the wound is still in the process of healing as the cutting hex not only slashed deeply through flesh and muscle but right down to the very bone. You will still feel a bit sore for a few weeks until the wound is fully healed. And please do not overly exert yourself during this time period, the muscle needs to knit itself properly shut."
Seeing Rowan's face visibly brighten up at the medical prognosis, Madam Pomfrey slowly adds, "Thankfully, there was no lasting damage to your arm, Miss Prince. But I am afraid there will be a permanent lasting scar on your left shoulder that will never truly fade away."
The three adults carefully studied Rowan afraid that she might have a panic attack at the terrible news. A scar would typically be seen as a terrible disfigurement for any pureblood girl yet to wed. And many pureblood potential suitors would oftentimes be dissuaded away by such a physical disfigurement.
However, Rowan remains rather calm in the face of such news. Shrugging her shoulders, she says, "Truthfully, I was more worried about having permanent damage in my left shoulder. A scar in my opinion isn't something too terrible to live with in exchange for keeping full use of my physical extremities."
"Well, then I will be on my way," Madam Pomfrey said rather pleased, before hurrying to chastise a first-year for getting out of bed, despite being dark blue with bright green polka dots covering his entire face and body.
Turning towards her aunt and grandfather, Rowan sheepishly asks, "Will the two of you be going now?"
Georgine loudly snickers and says, "Why child, if I didn't know any better, I would think you want us gone?" Rowan sends a dark scowl towards her aunt, who merely continues to loudly chortle with unholy glee.
Reginald warily shakes his head at his younger sisters' antics and says, "Yes, Georgine and I have tarried at Hogwarts long enough. And we will be seeing the two of you again in a few days. Tell your brother, goodbye."
"Yes, grandfather," Rowan quickly said as Reginald tousled her head in goodbye, while Georgine flashed Rowan another cheeky grin which caused Rowan to glare back, and Georgine to leave the infirmary loudly snickering to herself.
"Rude," Rowan grumbled under her breath, before climbing out of bed and heading to the lavatory to wash her face and get ready for breakfast. Having washed her face and taken care of other business, she stood in front of the mirror combing her hair with her fingers, before creating a loose braid that hung over her shoulders.
Still feeling a bit gross, but unable to take a bath, Rowan grabs a wand to perform a light cleaning spell on her body and a freshening spell on her clothes. Muttering the charm over herself, her wand suddenly clatters loudly onto the floor as she lets out a cry of pain and clutches her left eye. For a moment, the vision in her left eye flickers in agony, before slowly the pain fades away until she can see again.
With her heart sinking further down in her chest, Rowan removes her hand from her left eye and glances at her reflection. There appeared to be nothing obviously wrong with her eye, and nothing had come during Madam Pomfrey's diagnostic that morning. But that sharp, agonizing pain had not just been an illusion.
Thinking back to only two days ago, Rowan can clearly recall that sickening feeling in her magic as she absorbed the latest death surge. There had been something off like a dark taint. Was this it? And if so, was it permanent?
Doing her best to shove away her internal fears for the moment, Rowan composes herself, before bending down to pick up her wand from the stone floor. She would just have to take care to perform as little of magic as possible in the upcoming days. Hopefully, it was nothing, but a part of her told her that just wasn't the case.
PENSAMENTOS DOS CRIADORES 
EsliEsma
EsliEsma “Every action has its pleasures and its price.” ― Socrates
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