~ Lord Falkland
Monday, June 18th ~ Morning
Almost a week had gone by since Anne had been out jogging and had had the misfortune to make the acquaintance of Bellatrix Lestrange. Anne understood the woman was dead and was no longer a threat, but that didn't stop the images that kept replaying in her mind through the potion induced haze of medication the healers insisted she take. Once or twice they'd been busy enough she'd received it a little late and there was no argument about taking it after that. Whatever hex it was the dead woman had managed to hit her with - hurt! Anne's left arm and shoulder still weren't responding the way they should, but the healers had assured her they would in time.
Nerve damage - strange that it causes such pain - but they hang there like - like dead weight.
Anne had been fortunate enough to be in the states during the altercation with Voldemort, but she had heard stories of what had happened of course. If they were anything like what she'd seen - she was heartily glad she'd been absent.
If things like this happen even now - maybe my mother is right. Maybe I should return - home? It wasn't a decision she had to make right away, but it was one she was seriously considering. Anne didn't care if it labeled her a coward. The sight of her old potions professor being pummeled by unseen blows and coughing up blood was enough to make her wish for a Portkey right now.
