Blackness
Date: Friday, April 18, 2002
Time: 7:00 AM
Location: Spinner's End
Characters Involved: June Connors
Rating: PG-13? for angst?
When June woke up, she couldn't see.
Of course, this was nothing unusual, since she wasn't supposed to sleep with the prosthetic eyes in. Still half drowsing, she reached up and felt around her nightstand until her hand fell on the box. Sitting up, she slicked the magical eyes with ointment, and carefully inserted them into their sockets. Same routine, every morning. She blinked several times to settle them in place, and opened her eyes.
Blackness.
Any lingering sleepiness was chased away by sudden alarm. She quieted it quickly. Sure, this was the first time the eyes had failed to work, but any number of things could be causing it. Perhaps she'd put them in wrong - did it matter if they were on the wrong sides? She tried switching them, but it made no difference. All right - maybe the charms were wearing off. No one had mentioned that as a possibility, but perhaps they'd forgotten - or perhaps it was because she was a lycanthrope, maybe her constitution somehow made it necessary to renew the charms.
Well, whatever the problem was, the next step was clear. She'd have to write George and ask him to contact Misters Bartel and Jaymesson. Her Quotes Quill was always handy, even though she generally didn't need it anymore; she made her way over to her desk and dug it out of the drawer. Flipping open her journal, she placed the quill on a page and drew back her hand.
"George," she dictated quietly, urgently. "Something's wrong with the-"
...why didn't she hear scratching on the page?
Reaching out, her fingers encountered the quill - lying on its side, lifeless. She picked it up and ran her fingers over it - definitely the right quill. Setting it on its tip, she began again more firmly: "George, the-"
Floomph. A tiny sound, but her ears caught it. The quill had fallen again. Panic began to curl up from the base of her stomach. What the hell was happening?
Snatching up the quill, she began to scrawl on the page, just praying her writing was legible. Something's gone wrong with the eyes. They're not working. Charms worn off? Please contact me. -June. Picking up her wand, she cleared her throat and cast the charm that would send the message, privately, to George and Fred Weasley.
Only there was nothing. Her wand felt like a piece of dead wood in her hand.
"Oh god... oh god, oh god..."
Her magic. Her magic was... gone. Why?
Wait, there had been something, hadn't there? Something in the Daily Prophet. About wizards losing their magic. But they hadn't known what was causing it, had they? No one had ever mentioned a cure being found.
But... that didn't mean it was permanent. It couldn't be permanent! If she had no magic, she would never see again... never fly... She would lose everything she'd gained back in the last eighteen months, and god, so much more besides! Not to be able to communicate through the journals, or cast any spells or make potions - what use would she be? What-
No. NO. She would not get herself in a panic over might-bes. She would stay calm - Severus and Remus were out of reach, but Glamis could reach them if they were needed. Meanwhile, people were already working on the problem. Maybe had already found a cure. There was absolutely no reason to panic.
Swallowing hard against the painful lump in her throat, she forced herself to straighten up, and half-ran, half-stumbled from the room in search of Glamis.
Time: 7:00 AM
Location: Spinner's End
Characters Involved: June Connors
Rating: PG-13? for angst?
When June woke up, she couldn't see.
Of course, this was nothing unusual, since she wasn't supposed to sleep with the prosthetic eyes in. Still half drowsing, she reached up and felt around her nightstand until her hand fell on the box. Sitting up, she slicked the magical eyes with ointment, and carefully inserted them into their sockets. Same routine, every morning. She blinked several times to settle them in place, and opened her eyes.
Blackness.
Any lingering sleepiness was chased away by sudden alarm. She quieted it quickly. Sure, this was the first time the eyes had failed to work, but any number of things could be causing it. Perhaps she'd put them in wrong - did it matter if they were on the wrong sides? She tried switching them, but it made no difference. All right - maybe the charms were wearing off. No one had mentioned that as a possibility, but perhaps they'd forgotten - or perhaps it was because she was a lycanthrope, maybe her constitution somehow made it necessary to renew the charms.
Well, whatever the problem was, the next step was clear. She'd have to write George and ask him to contact Misters Bartel and Jaymesson. Her Quotes Quill was always handy, even though she generally didn't need it anymore; she made her way over to her desk and dug it out of the drawer. Flipping open her journal, she placed the quill on a page and drew back her hand.
"George," she dictated quietly, urgently. "Something's wrong with the-"
...why didn't she hear scratching on the page?
Reaching out, her fingers encountered the quill - lying on its side, lifeless. She picked it up and ran her fingers over it - definitely the right quill. Setting it on its tip, she began again more firmly: "George, the-"
Floomph. A tiny sound, but her ears caught it. The quill had fallen again. Panic began to curl up from the base of her stomach. What the hell was happening?
Snatching up the quill, she began to scrawl on the page, just praying her writing was legible. Something's gone wrong with the eyes. They're not working. Charms worn off? Please contact me. -June. Picking up her wand, she cleared her throat and cast the charm that would send the message, privately, to George and Fred Weasley.
Only there was nothing. Her wand felt like a piece of dead wood in her hand.
"Oh god... oh god, oh god..."
Her magic. Her magic was... gone. Why?
Wait, there had been something, hadn't there? Something in the Daily Prophet. About wizards losing their magic. But they hadn't known what was causing it, had they? No one had ever mentioned a cure being found.
But... that didn't mean it was permanent. It couldn't be permanent! If she had no magic, she would never see again... never fly... She would lose everything she'd gained back in the last eighteen months, and god, so much more besides! Not to be able to communicate through the journals, or cast any spells or make potions - what use would she be? What-
No. NO. She would not get herself in a panic over might-bes. She would stay calm - Severus and Remus were out of reach, but Glamis could reach them if they were needed. Meanwhile, people were already working on the problem. Maybe had already found a cure. There was absolutely no reason to panic.
Swallowing hard against the painful lump in her throat, she forced herself to straighten up, and half-ran, half-stumbled from the room in search of Glamis.