March 24th , 7:30 pm.


It had started with a kind of itching in her ears, and her first thought was that she was getting a cold. When she woke up the next morning with aching knees and hips, she was sure it was the flu. Tired and achy; scratchy throat; shivers and a cough; aye, she had the flu. And she knew exactly what Minnie would  give her tae treat it, if she could only go home.  But there was no chance of that until the next weekend. With any luck, she might be better by then.


But she didna get better; she got worse. On the first day of spring she celebrated by aching all over, sneezing and coughing, and shivering in spite of wearing her cloak over her cardigan over her school pullover. She didna want tae be sick. Sickness was for the weak. But in the end she had tae admit it and be admitted. Tuesday was basically hell, and she never got out of bed untill Millie came bck to the dorm and dragged her to the door of the Hospital Wing.


“I dinna feel at al’ well,” She confessed.


She’s been like this for at least two days,” Millie said flatly. “She’s got the Lurgy.”


With that Lizzie was shepherded into the hall, and settled into a bed, and swathed in blankets. Madam Pomfrey, who seemed much gentler that Lizzie remembered seeing her, prodded her and poked her and fed her drinks and told her she would be fine, and Lizzie hoped she was telling the truth.


She must have fallen asleep at some point, because when she woke up death seemed a good alternative. Everything hurt, and the bits that didn’t hurt itched, and she could hardly breathe. She tried to talk, but her lips were dry and cracked, and her head was swimmy.


“Help?” She managed at last, but her voice was raspy and barely above a whisper. 


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