WHO: Noël Carmichael and Noah Boot!
WHAT: An early morning visit that turns into a discovery!
WHERE: St. Mungo's, Janus Thickey Ward!
WHEN: 9:00 am this morning!
Noël apologized to the nurse whose cart she’d toppled over, putting one hand on the nurse’s shoulder and the other on her belly. Even after all these months of bumping into things, she still wasn’t used to having what felt like a full
foot protruding out of her front. She offered to pick up the supplies, but was waved off, most likely because she’d cause more trouble if she tried to help (even her magic had been wonky!). After wincing an apology one last time, Noël continued her way down the white corridor of St. Mungo’s to her brother’s room.
She had been very good with her visits to Noah. Noël knew that his mind wasn’t right and that he needed as much therapy as possible, so she waited until after the healers were done with him, after he was done eating, and after Odette was gone. Or, well, most of the time. Sometimes the healers worked with him for longer periods than usual, or shorter, depending on Noah’s mood. Sometimes meals lasted hours or sometimes he tossed the trays into the rubbish bins. Sometimes Odette was there and sometimes---she wasn’t.
The woman pressed her lips into a fine line at the thought of her sister-in-law (future, Noël mentally corrected). If it were Macon in St. Mungo’s, she was positive that she would spend every possible moment with her husband, but the kind, optimistic side of Noël reprimanded such searing thoughts. Odette was a professional quidditch player, their schedules were insane.
Plus she had a two year old and a newborn at home. So maybe there just wasn’t enough time in the day for Odette, and the thought pushed Noël to be more vigilant with her visits to her brother.
Her new determination to fill in the voids in which Odette couldn’t be with Noah was the reason why she was here at 9:00 in the morning, right when visiting hours began. Noël carried a canvas underneath her arm, hoping that the paints and markers she had left Noah the night before could be of some use. She had done much research on mental rehabilitation, and the arts could definitely have their affects! If she saw progress with Noah (maybe he’d start painting his words, or something!) Noël could definitely see a future in this kind of work.
“I hope you are ready for watercolors!” she let out, not bothering to knock to see if her brother was awake. Noël had been barging in on Noah since she could reach the doorknob of his room, he would not be surprised to see her----- “Noah!”
Was that
blood? Her brother was sitting upright in his bed, his face, shirt, the bed sheets, the
floor covered in red, red----red! Noël dropped the canvas she’d been holding and rushed over, nearly skidding in the puddle of red. Puddle of----Noël frowned as she recognized the smell, and she stared hard at Noah. “Are you serious? Did I honestly just catch you red handed?”
He sent a hard glare toward her and then his hands, stained with red and blue and a whole mixture of colors jutted out toward the walls. Noël turned and let out another surprised sound as she noticed for the first time since entering the room that the walls were covered in paint, but not just random splashes. There were...numbers. Symbols! Things that looked so familiar. Noël got a sudden wave of nostalgia, the work she’d done in the astronomy tower hitting her, memories of looking over Noah’s rolls upon rolls of parchment in the planetarium.
“Are these coordinates?” she asked, breathless. Noël turned back to her brother, not expecting a response. He hadn’t been able to understand questions, let alone give answers. So it was to her great shock when she saw Noah nodding his head up and down. There was almost a
grin on his face, if he didn’t look so spooked. Noël’s mouth gaped like a fish out of water, and she spun around slowly, startled to see that nearly every inch of wall was covered in painted numbers. “What----does it mean?”
Because they were coordinates, but who the hell knew what they were pointing them to? What was he even basing them off of? She turned back to Noah and his hands now pointed up toward the ceiling. Noël immediately looked up and let her mouth drop. On the ceiling of the room was a perfect display of the night sky. And not just any night sky, Noël had hung around Noah enough to know that this wasn’t a typical map, that---the stars were shifted, that this was a certain time, a certain
day---
“Sweet Merlin’s beard you figured out where you were being held.”
She clapped her hands to her mouth and looked back at Noah, who was
nodding. Over and over and over, he was
nodding and he was smiling! That was more emotion---that was the
happiest emotion she’d seen on him in weeks, and Noël couldn’t stop the excited shriek she illicited as she rushed toward him to wrap her arms around him. The paint was sticky and getting all over her new maternity cloak, but she didn’t care!
“I have to get a healer! I have to get an auror!” she let out, pulling away and running a paint stained hand through her hair. They must look like two complete nut jobs, and that was saying something, being as they were in the Janus Thickey Ward.
“Stay!”
Noël was more dumbstruck by Noah’s simple request than by everything he had painted on the walls. He’d reached out for her hand and gripped onto her wrist tightly. Her brother needed her right then, and Noël nodded, sitting down on the bed. She patted down his hair and pulled out her wand to try and clean up some of the paint off his face. He was getting better.
