Darkness....this very substance engulfed Euphemia's thoughts...
Stars....they twinkled before her eyes as the darkness covered her sight like a blindfold had been placed over her eyes...
Confusion....nothing made any sense anymore - all she could hear was whispered voices and the pitter patter of rain against a window, all she could feel was the coolness of the sheets beneath her...

Blank....Mia's mind was blank and void of any thoughts, memories or recollection whatsoever...
Spinning....her mind was spinning like a constant ferris wheel, never stopping...
Silence....there was deathly silence except for a ringing in Mia's ears which made her very brain hurt from the sound...
Bang. Crash. A sudden dizziness. Where was she? Who was she?

This was everything that ran through Euphemia's foggy mind as her eyes stickily opened to a dazzling white brightness that stunned her pupils as she blinked vigorously to try and adjust herself to the sudden light. Thoughts and memories flashed before Euphemia's eyes, unfamiliar figures danced on white backgrounds that flickered through her mind like pages being turned in a book swiftly, zooming past at rates faster than the fastest broomstick.

Voices echoed through her head, the same words being repeated over and over again. Stop. Don't. No. A flash of red light, the cry of the stunning spell and a transition through mid air. Bang. Pain. Blood. There had been blood on the floor. Who's blood? Why did her head hurt so much?

"Ms Black? Ms Black, can you hear me, sweetie?" an unfamiliar voice rung out as Mia's eyes fluttered open, squinting whilst she attempted to get used to the light that had filled her eyesight. She couldn't help but wonder who Ms Black was...to whom was the voice addressing? Looking around for the source of the voice and who the voice was talking to, she couldn't help but notice how groggy she felt, her mind and body felt weighed down as if they had been filled with drugs and sedatives...which they probably had, to be honest.

Mia's mind was entirely blank, she didn't recognise where she was and a sense of panic rushed through her bloodstream as her pulse quickened - she didn't know where she was! "Help me!" Euphemia whispered in a rough tone, as if her voice hadn't been used in a while and she struggled to get out of the bed that she found herself in but a pair of arms wrestled her back down, hands fastening around her wrists gently. "We are going to help you, sweetie, if you just relax," the voice said again and Mia swore something washed over her system because she immediately felt calm once more.

However, another voice that was unfamiliar and yet, at the same time, scarily recognisable to Euphemia if she could only work out who exactly it was, sounded in her head. Relax, it won't hurt, sweetie. If you just relax, it'll be over quicker than you know it. And immediately Mia was sent into a state of panic once more and no calming spell or drug could help drag her from her frantic demeanour as she thrashed in the bed wildly. "No! You can't help me! Nobody can!" Euphemia screamed at the top of her lungs, trying to sit up every time she articulated each word but some sort of invisible bonds seemed to keep her tied to the bed. The same pair of hands grabbed onto her own and pushed her back onto the pillows and...

Bang.

"If you'll just open your eyes for me, sweetie...." another voice awoke Mia from her dreamless sleep that she had had to be put into to try and induce and relax her. With a feeling of deja vu washing over her, Euphemia opened her eyes again and blinked furiously to adjust them to the light yet again. This time round, however, there were no shouting fits or struggles as the St Mungo's Specialist Psychiatric Nurse gently placed her hand on Mia's back and propped the girl up on top of the plumped feather cushions that she had placed behind her patient.

Martha, the nurse, couldn't help but be concerned as the screaming girl from before had now descended into a silent and blank faced one as she stared at nothing in particular, her pupils dilated. It wasn't common for there to be such an immediate change in a patient and the nurse had to wave her hand several times in front of Euphemia's face before the girl finally reacted and brought her blank grey - blue eyes up to face Martha's.

"Hello, sweetie. I'm Martha and I'm going to be looking after you, is that okay?" Martha made sure to ask for the girl's permission and when the brunette nodded mutely, Martha placed herself in the chair beside the bed where Euphemia was propped up on some pillows.

The room that they were in was a private and secluded one, a little temporary room that they held the patients affiliated with psychological needs in until they could be diagnosed. Mia had in fact been brought in by none other than Orion Black, who was a well known 'bad guy' to many of the hospital staff hence why Martha had been startled when he ran into St Mungos with a bleeding Euphemia in his arms. He had explained that she had fallen down the stairs whilst playing a game of tag and that it was best to fix her up quickly before anyone found out. What the boy truly meant would forever be a mystery to Martha but she didn't care, her main priority was her new patient.

Mia had been cleaned up and her wound had been stitched magically and bandaged whilst she was still unconscious. The Matron of the ward had then explained to Martha that the girl was to be kept in overnight in the temporary room so that they could examine her and observe what was wrong with her as there were suspicions that Euphemia might be suffering from memory loss or amnesia. Which was entirely correct, as Martha had established almost immediately when they woke Mia up the morning following the incident.

Euphemia eyed Martha warily as the woman placed herself on the chair and looked very closely at Mia with piercing brown eyes. This woman was unfamiliar to Euphemia, not that she had actually managed to recognise anyone yet, and it set her on edge a little so she simply shifted in her bed uncomfortably as much as she was able to, seeing as her legs were trapped under the extremely tight white duvet that had been wrapped around Mia's bed. "Now, sweetie, tell me who you are!" Martha said cheerily once she had introduced herself and scanned Euphemia up and down quickly.

Easy peasy lemon squeasy Euphemia thought and she opened her mouth to tell Martha exactly who she was but no words came out, she realised at the last minute that she had no idea on what she was going to say to the nurse in front of her. "I don't know," she finally said, her throat raw from all the screaming earlier. Martha blinked and scribbled something down on her clipboard before she looked imploringly once more at Mia. "What do you mean, sweetie?" she asked and Euphemia's eyes filled with tears which soon leaked out from underneath her eyelids and spilled over her cheeks. "I don't know who I am," she whispered.

A handkerchief to wipe away her tears and a blow of her nose later, Mia was soon rocking back and forth from where she was lain in her bed, her head hurting from being upright for too long, despite the cushions supporting her from behind. "I have no clue who I am, I have no clue where I am...." Euphemia told Martha in a shaky voice that trembled with every syllable.

If Mia actually looked around, she would see that there was a magical whiteboard fastened to the bottom of her bed which had all her personal information written on it. However, Martha wanted to see what was exactly wrong with Euphemia and the way to do that was to simply see what she remembered.

"Do you remember anything at all, sweetie?" Martha asked gently, leaning forward and placing a hand on Mia's knee gently to reassure her slightly but Euphemia eyed it with slight trepidation and an uncertain look in her grey - blue eyes. "I remember...a flash of red light....a sensation like I was flying through the air. And blood.....a pool of blood..." Mia finally whispered out before she winced and clutched at her head, complaining that it was hurting. Martha nodded and helped lay Euphemia back down again, telling her to get some rest and forcing a potion down her throat that gave her dreamless nights.

Once Euphemia had passed out into a fitful sleep on the bed, Martha stood up from where she had been seated on the chair and walked towards the door where a Healer was waiting. "Well?" the Healer asked and Martha nodded, lowering her voice to whisper so as to not wake Mia. "It's what we assumed - she has a severe case of amnesia but it seems to be rather temporary so her memory could be restored but it's very unlikely."

~~~

Godric's Hollow was always a lovely place to be in the summer, the quaint village was very aesthetic and beautiful in the July and August sunshine, the cottages that lined the streets were often empty as muggles and wizards milled out in crowds to mingle and enjoy the warm weather whilst it lasted. The few retail shops that the village possessed were mostly sold out because everyone wanted to have barbecues and garden parties to make the most of the sunshine. This was the Muggles mostly though, especially as the rationing ban that had been on food previously because of the muggle war had been lifted recently so they were relishing in it.

The wizarding community did involve themselves in the festivities occasionally if they were feeling kind towards muggles but many didn't out of pride or because of personal matters. One of this kind was Bathilda Bagshot who preferred to sit inside during the entire summer and wait for people to come and visit her - she didn't make the effort to get out as she was 'aging' apparently and the middle aged going on elderly woman would sit at her desk all day with her historical papers.

Bathilda had in fact recently published her best selling book, A History of Magic in the year 1947, three years ago. A letter had arrived that morning informing her that her book was to be used as a Hogwarts textbook in the following academic year and Bathilda was celebrating reluctantly on her own with a glass of pumpkin juice as she looked out of the window at the small street party happening outside. It was only when she saw three children that she looked forward to seeing every time they came to visit, did she actually perk up a little.

Charlus, Rochelle and Olivia were strolling up her garden path and Bathilda practically shot up from her armchair that she had been sat in to reach the door as they knocked. The three Potter children always came to visit her in the holidays and at weekends - Rochelle and Olivia also often dropped in by themselves when Charlus was away at school. Bathilda loved the three Potter children, she was good friends with their mother and it was a tradition for them to come and see her.

Opening the door, the woman held out her arms to embrace them all, standing on her tiptoes to reach Charlus, exclaiming as she did so, "You've grown so much, Fleamont!" and the boy grimaced at the use of his full name but didn't say anything as Mrs Potter had commanded him to be polite no matter what.

Bathilda then wrapped her arms around Rochelle and brought her into her vast bosom as Rochelle squirmed and Charlus laughed at his sister's discomfort before he stopped abruptly as Rochelle stepped back and 'accidentally' trod on Charlus' toe. Only Olivia seemed delighted to see Bathilda and the five year old squealed in happiness as Bathilda lifted her up and whirled her around in the air.

"Would you like to come in?" Bathilda beamed and stepped aside to let them walk into her home, watching with adoring eyes as Charlus picked up Olivia and swung her round so that the little girl was on his shoulders.

Rochelle had already bounded in and jumped onto the sofa, kneeling up to peer at the mantelpiece that contained a lot of dusty photographs in even dustier frames which made Rochelle sneeze loudly.

"Bless you!" Olivia piped up from where she was atop Charlus' shoulders, making sure to hit the top of his head every few seconds with her chubby little hands, giggling all the while.

Bathilda had bustled off to make a cup of tea and make them some afternoon tea even though there was anything Charlus would rather be doing than sitting in the woman's dark and dusty home.

He had actually been thinking of penning a letter to Mia about what had happened recently at school - he really wanted to make sure that she was okay. Charlus really couldn't help but be incredibly suspicious of her family...

"Bathilda, who's this?" Rochelle asked suddenly, her hands picking up a photograph of a blonde boy who was smiling almost robotically at the camera but he had been in place of honour on Bathilda's mantelpiece so Rochelle reckoned he was quite important.

Bathilda had just been returning into the room from the kitchen with a tea tray and her eyes widened upon seeing what photograph Rochelle was holding. Charlus predicted what was going to happen before it did and, true enough, the tray clattered to the floor and the teacups all smashed, spilling their contents everywhere.

"Oopsie daisy," Olivia giggled from up high as Bathilda dashed towards Rochelle and took the photograph from the girl, slamming it down face forward. "No one...." she breathed heavily, her eyes still rather wild and panicky, "Just....my nephew..." Bathilda added hesitantly after Charlus raised his eyebrow sceptically in her direction.

The boy then swung Olivia down from his shoulders, much to her displeasure, and plonked her down on the summer, where she pouted and crossed her arms at him in a sulky manner. "Meanie."

"Reparo," Charlus muttered as he took out his wand to repair the tea-set and the cups certainly leapt back together from where they had been shattered into tiny pieces on the floor but nothing was going to restore the tea that had sat in them.

"Um, no magic out of school!" Rochelle pointed at him accusingly but Bathilda didn't even react, the woman was simply staring down at the face down photograph with an almost haunted expression painted on her face. "Whatever, they'll just think it was her," Charlus waved a careless hand in Bathilda's direction before he placed the newly repaired tea set on the coffee table, a move that didn't even prompt a 'thank you' from Bathilda as she was completely mute now, her eyes downcast.

Seeing as Bathilda had descended into silent mode, Charlus made the executive decision to take his sisters out of the house and he bid an awkward goodbye to the mute Bathilda, who was still staring at the photograph. "I'll tell my mum to pop round!" he called out as they walked out of the front door, Rochelle mooching because she had upset the lady and Olivia scuttling along with a biscuit she had nabbed from the tray as they were leaving.

"That was a quick visit, well done Shelley," Charlus commented sarcastically once they were back out in the sunlit streets of Godric's Hollow, an enormous relief from the dark home they had just emerged from. Rochelle scowled at him and shoved him playfully but hard enough that he stumbled into a hedge and had to grab hold of a few twigs to steady himself, littering them down onto the ground with a laugh.

"Don't call me Shelley, Fleamont," Rochelle said through gritted teeth - she absolutely hated that nickname but their parents insisted on calling her by it, like they did with Charlus and his first name Fleamont.

"Yeah, Flea....Fleamo!" Olivia echoed Rochelle in a very catty fashion as she brushed her hands together in a business like fashion to rid them of biscuit crumbs as chocolate was coated all around her mouth. She couldn't quite pronounce the name so settled with 'Fleamo' but still managed to come across as feisty as Rochelle was, copying what her older sister was doing.

As a result, Charlus found himself faced with two scarily alike sisters who were both narrowing their eyes at him, though Olivia wasn't quite succeeding at that, she had instead managed to squeeze up her eyes entirely so that she was simply squinting at her brother with her pudgy hands on her little hips like Rochelle's were.

The banter between the three siblings may have carried on as they walked down the streets of Godric's Hollow if it hadn't of been for Mrs Potter rushing out speedily as they approached the Potter home. Mrs Potter looked rather flustered and she was holding a telephone in her hand, looking uncertainly down at it as if she didn't know how to use it. Mr Potter had insisted on the family having some sort of muggle technology and so they ended up with that form of communication, not that anyone knew how it worked properly (hence why Mrs Potter had made the mistake of running out of the house with it when it only had a short wire and any muggle would not have done so as the wire would stretch too much).

"Fleamont! Your friend, Minevra, is on the phone!" Mrs Potter called out, pronouncing the name wrong and Charlus rolled his eyes, taking the telephone from his mother. "It's Minerva, Mum," he told her in exasperation but she simply fixed him with a worried expression and gestured to the phone which made Charlus think that Minnie might have some bad news.

"Minnie? What is it? Missing me already?" Charlus spoke a little louder than was probably required on a muggle telephone but he didn't know how to use one so that was how he talked, so loud that poor little Olivia next to him covered her ears and scowled up at her big brother before stalking into the house, stamping her feet like she had seen Rochelle do in the past.

"Could you speak any louder?" Minerva asked him exasperatedly, on the other end of the line but she didn't sound as amused as she would usually - in fact she sounded rather terse and worried which immediately set Charlus on edge. "Min? What's wrong?" he asked in concern, stepping closer to the front door as the telephone's wiggly wire was stretching to it's limit from it's place in the porch. "It's Mia - she's been hurt. Meet me at St Mungo's in 20 minutes," the Scottish girl said urgently and then hung up, no doubt about to rush to the hospital.

Charlus felt his stomach drop and he instantly began thinking of all these terrible things that could've happened to Euphemia and worry settled in pretty fast as he sped inside, his shoes sliding on the floor as he skidded to a halt. "Mum, I need you to apparate me to St Mungo's, pronto. It's Euphemia, my friend - she's hurt," Charlus told her quickly. holding out his hand for his mum to grab. Mrs Potter asked no questions, having taken in the terrified and worried look on her son's face, and grabbed all three of her children to disapparate from the home (as their father wasn't there to look after them -  Mr Potter was at work).

"Why are we going to see Charlus' girlfriend?" Rochelle questioned with a whine as she dragged her feet whilst Mrs Potter clicked her fingers impatiently, already holding onto Olivia's sticky paw with Charlus clinging onto her cardigan clad shoulder from behind. "She's not my girlfriend!" Charlus protested, turning bright red and Rochelle raised her eyebrow - she was used to her brother having several girls and found it hard to believe that he wasn't involved with Mia in any way.
"Makes a change," the eleven year old muttered underneath her breath and, as Mrs Potter span on the spot to dissapparate to St Mungo's, Charlus whacked his sister over the head.

I'm in a pantomime (a comedy Christmas show, common in Britain for those who don't know what it is) this week :)
8 days till Christmas y'all! ❄️ ⛄️🎄