Friday 10th January 2027
Today I was released from St Mungo's, finally. Being able to start my day alone in my bed, surrounded by a bubble, then finish it at home is refreshing. For the first time in months I felt the wind rustle through my hair, the icy air fill my nostrils and the drops of sleet tickle my cheeks. I was never a huge fan of the cold, rain is a huge turn away and sleet is exactly that but with a sugary sprinkle. Yet, today I enjoyed the dampness. I enjoyed the bitter cold that coiled around my legs and held me by the hand as I stepped from St Mungo's.
I have been in hospital since the 12th of October. For a moment it appeared as though I had died in the hospital wing, I learnt that the matron even called time of death. I don't remember this but after spending two months in quarantine with nobody but the healers and nurses to talk to I managed to squeeze every drop of detail from them. St Mungo's staff collected me from
Hogwarts, they had to take me to be identified by my Mother and then... Then the morgue. There was no denying the shock and fear I'd felt when Mrs Winders, one of the nurses, informed me I'd originally been addressed to the morgue. I can only imagine how I must have looked, what I must have been like for the matron to believe me dead. Thankfully I hadn't been sentenced to an eternity in the shadows. One of the healers had noticed my bottom lip moving slightly, attempting to steal the surrounding oxygen. It was that point they realised I was still alive and a week later I found myself in quarantine.
The welsh green Itch was back. Or at least that was my initial diagnosis. What stumped the healing staff was how it continued to survive. Twice it had induced damage and twice it had managed to remain alive, hidden and lurking somewhere in my body. They explained their theory to me: a new strain, a mutated strain, a strain that lay dormant inside of me and came out to take my life. Maybe the words 'take my life' weren't used exactly but that about summed up what they were saying.
For the next two and a half months I lay in bed, getting up every so often for a wonder around the room or a trip to the toilet. My Mum came to visit as often as she could but not being a witch the only way she could enter was with her brother, meaning I saw a lot of my Uncle John. He talked a lot about how when I recover I can aim for entering the Ministry or becoming a healer myself. Although I felt healthy I simply didn't have the heart to tell him I had no intentions of becoming a ministry official and the idea of spending the rest of my life in St Mungo's was soul crushing. I'd spent enough time in hospital to last me a lifetime.
My family have always tried to shrug a career in the the Ministry of Magic or St Mungo's on me. Ever since I was little, it was almost a family expectation. My Uncle himself worked in the department of magical law whilst two of my other uncles worked in magical transport. My auntie Cheryl was different, she worked for Gringotts, something still respectable. But me? I had no intentions of a career that didn't depend upon my creativity... If only I could tell them that.
After two and a half months had passed the bug returned armed with an entire arson of toxins, more so than the times before. Thankfully the healers had a preformed plan and were on hand to rescue me, save me once again from the hand of death.
I woke a week later, exhausted but feeling free. Mrs Winders informed me, teary-eyed, that the healers had managed to find where it had been hiding and had removed it once and for all. As of now it sits in a laboratory being the subject to experiments: How is it transmitted? Is it contagious? How does it cause disease? Who is most likely to be effected?
I have to say I'm going to miss being the only person to have the disease, it made me feel somewhat special, but I made it no secret to show my happiness when the healer and
Mrs Winders discharged me today. They'd monitored my recovery since the third attack, or 'episode' as they called it, and said there was no need for me to stay in quarantine or St Mungo's.
That afternoon my Uncle and Mum collected me and the many pads of parchment I'd filled and took me back to our cottage by the sea. My Mum had planned a surprise party to welcome me back. All my aunties and uncles were there, even my cousins that weren't at Hogwarts and my Grandma had gave me a barrel of all the sweets I could want.
Tonight, for the first time since the 12th of October, I will be falling asleep with a smile on my face.
Bertie.
by Bertie Nogard Thu Jan 09, 2014 1:37 am
