Chapter Text
Conditions that night were far from perfect.
It had been a very long and cruel summer. The grass had become black and brittle, the animals had been forced from their burrows to find food further afield, and the people of the village had never seen the water in the river, running so low.
The downpour had finally decided to come down late last night, the parched and split earth drinking more than its fill. As you knelt at your spot in the middle of the clearing you could feel the slick cold of the claylike mud coating your legs. Sweet Circe, of all nights, it had to be the one right before the last new moon of the season.
You reached out over to your cloak and the Grimoire sitting there atop it, catching the worn leather cover just as it threatened to fly open. The loose scraps of parchment wedged in between the pages continued to rustle as the wind blew. The wind was not a bad omen in itself, on the contrary, it showed the favour of Notus, god of the south wind, but with it, he brought the clouds which had made it nearly impossible for you to see the positions of the stars above you. All of these things made your ritual hard, in fact, it made it damn near improbable that you would even succeed…but you at least had to try.
Dipping your hand into the pouch on your belt you scooped out a fist full of ashes and sprinkled them onto the ground before you, slowly, carefully, making sure that each line of the runes were clear and defined. You heard the distant chime of the church bells coming from the village marking the hour. 12 o'clock midnight.
“Easy,” you breathed to yourself “remember, empty mind, steady heartbeat”.
It was so unfair. Magic seemed to come so easily to everything. The sky could transform, turning days that burnt bright and orange into cool inky black nights; Ivy could creep and crawl, overtaking houses long abandoned by its human inhabitants, its creeping tendrils sealing over windows and pulling down walls, taking back what had once been there’s; Even maggots could take the rotting carcass of a dead animal and create new life springing up from the forest floor.
You couldn’t even manage a simple incendo spell anymore.
Not now. Empty mind, steady heartbeat
Finishing the symbols, you rubbed the rest of the soot mixture into the fleshy palms before dragging your finger across your forearms, left first, and then right, creating the same symbols there too. You set up the remainder of your candles, taking the very last, white pillar candle and holding it in front of you. Checking over your notes one last time you couldn’t help but feel the encirclement of surrounding trees tighten. These guardians of the wood craning up to get a better look over your shoulder. To witness. To judge.
Empty mind
You stared intently at the wick of the candle in your hands picturing it bursting into flames.
It never did of course, in all the times you had tried to conduct the spell nothing ever happened…well never in the way that you meant it to.
Steady heartbeat
The last incident happened about a month ago. You were given home visit duty to a new patient, Mrs Hurst. She was technically not even eligible for home visits, however, her son had managed to make a direct phone call to the senior nurse and had been very insistent that her home care should commence immediately. You had been the one to draw the short straw.
Mrs Hurst was a small woman in her late 80s, having to be propped up with lacy cushions on all sides while sitting in her chair in the living room. With that and her permanent sour expression, you thought that she did not look too dissimilar to a shrivelled-up prune in an easy recliner. However, it didn’t matter how small she actually appeared, she made you feel so much smaller.
“All I’m saying is that you’re not very good at your job are you”
Empty
“No Mrs Hurst”. In these types of situations, you had found it best just to agree with the patient. It would usually stop an argument from arising and allow you to work as they ranted on.
“I mean you just can’t do anything right, every time you’ve taken my blood you’ve given me bruises-”
Mind
“I’m very sorry Mrs Hurst”
“-you’ve done my bandages around my legs far too tight-”
Steady
“I can only apologise”
“-and let’s face it love, nurses are at least personable, or pretty to look at, and well, you’re just none of those things are you”
Heartbeat
“Of course not”
She then placed her small, arthritic hand over yours, instantly ceasing you from plumping her pillows.
“My advice would be just to give up now dear”
Heart
There was something in the way she had said it, she spoke those words with such sincerity as she looked right at you. No. Not at you. Through you.
Beat
You felt a sting all over your skin, like when you would walk to work in the snow and forget your gloves.
Heart
That was the exact same cold burn that spread across your body and left a metallic taste in your mouth.
Beat
There was such a ringing in your ears that you couldn’t hear what she said next but you could see that her mouth was still moving, presumably continuing to point out your flaws as a substandard carer until, suddenly-
“Shit” you hissed, throwing the candle on the ground in defeat. You had been sitting in the forest nearly all night till you could no longer feel your legs, and now you were too tired and exhausted to stop your thoughts from spiralling. You remembered Mrs Hurst’s shriek as she saw her television set in front of you both suddenly burst into flames and the guilt that weighed like a rock in your stomach as she looked back at you, her eyes wide in fear. Later the fire brigade concluded that the fire was the result of an old television set plugged into an overloaded socket and that an accident like this was bound to happen sooner or later, but you and Mrs Hurst had known the truth.
“Witch! She’s a witch!” she screamed “She torched my bloody flat and now she’s cursed me”. The tired paramedics just rolled their eyes and continued taking her vitals. Fortunately, she was fine, there hadn't been a scratch on her, but due to her hysteria, they agreed that it would be best to keep her under observation for the night.
You felt sorry for Mrs Hurst. When people become old they find that more and more things are taken away from them, their sight, their mobility, and sometimes even their minds; the very parts of their own bodies begin to betray them. It was only natural to push back, to rebel, to try anything to try and regain some of that control. You too knew that feeling all too well. You both wanted back your power and as you saw her being loaded into the back of the ambulance continuing to shout, continuing to call you a witch, you couldn’t help but smile. Things like this had happened before now, but never to this magnitude and for the first time in a long time you had something you thought was lost forever: hope.
Shortly after you had been let go from your position at the surgery but you didn’t care, because now you had a fire in your belly, a new plan in your head and a hunger in your bones. You were sick of this world that had no place for you in it, you needed magic, no matter how much it seemed that it did not need you.
You had now exhausted all of the resources you could get your hands on here...but you knew where you could find more.
Tidying your materials away you heard the swoop of wings overhead. Even before looking up, you could tell this wasn’t one of the birds common to the forest. This bird was different. They were bringing a message. Just above you on one of the low-hanging branches of the Elm, was a rather moody-looking brown owl, all speckled with white and scowling. In their beak, they held a smooth cream envelope bigger than their entire body with a bright red wax seal in its centre.
Your breath hitched for just a second as the envelope dropped down into your lap. Suddenly, you felt 11 years old again.
Dear Miss Stone, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the position of ‘Healer Assistant’ at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry …