Purple Hair

Sunlight blanketed the hospital ward. Sanctified golden rays glow as they hit the floor, at their brightest before sunset. They struck the outside of Cressida's fully drawn privacy screens. She lay in the relative darkness feeling very sorry for herself.

"Two weeks' detention!"

Cressida sat in her chair, slightly hunched. McGonagall never seemed so intimidating. She seemed at least a metre taller. Her usually calm, yet stern, face was brightly flushed. "Fighting like a Muggle, illegal hexes, such disgusting behaviour!"

Cressida's own face flushed, she felt indignant, and hurt, but most of all, embarrassed.

"I'm going to call in your parents immediately!"

"What? No!" Cressida began to panic. "Please, Professor! Isn't detention enough?! How about house-point deductions?" (Curse the day McGonagall became Gryffindor's Head Teacher.) "Please don't call my parents in!"

"I'm sorry, Miss Victors, but this is the last straw," McGonagall said. "First it was your hair," -she glanced distastefully at Cressida's bright purple hair- "and now this. You should know by now, your fourth year, that that sort of behaviour is not tolerated in this school."

"Please, Professor! I didn't even start it!" she continued to beg.

"You don't seem to understand the gravity of the situation, Cressida," McGonagall said quietly. "You could have seriously, and permanently, damaged that girl's face, you must understand what that does to another human being."

Cressida sat quietly, but what about her honour? There was no "could have" about it, Grace had been damaging it for years

Cressida curled up tighter under her sheets as she heard Grace's friends bleat, "Poor thing." "How could she do that?" "She's such a monster."

She picked up her wand off the side table, and tried to remember the Silent Wall Charm. She motioned it slowly and methodically. For a second everything was silent, but when they spoke again she could hear their voices, but muffled enough that she couldn't understand what they were saying. She plopped her head back onto the pillow and rolled over, her arm pinned under her body. She pulled her leg up until it twinged painfully. She laid a hand on the bandages. She hoped she would never have to get up.

"What is wrong with you, Cressida?" her mother said angrily. "My goodness, your brother and sisters would never do something like this."

Cressida silently hung her head.

Her father paced behind her.

"You need some self-control young lady, you need to focus on your studies. Rather than fighting like a Muggle, you have a future to consider," he said just as furiously. "Are you even listening to us?"

"Yes," she mumbled.

"Well, that would be the first time in years," her mother added sarcastically. "We are so sorry, Professor McGonagall," she added turning to face her. "Thank you for putting up with her."

McGonagall lips tightened into a silent, half-hearted smile.

"Yes, Professor, we appreciate all you have done," her father continued. "I think a two weeks' detention will be quite sufficient."

"Dear, the meeting will begin in thirty minutes," her mother said, checking her watch. "We don't want to be late like last time," she said eying Cressida.

"Good day, Professor," her father said and, turning to Cressida, growled, "Behave yourself."

They both left the room. Cressida stared at the floor. Her throat was tight as if she was trying to swallow her misery. Mustn't cry, mustn't cry...so embarrassing. McGonagall was silent for a moment.

"You had better go down to the hospital wing so Madam Pomfrey can take care of those blisters. They look rather painful."

"Yes, ma'am."

Cressida soundlessly walked to the hospital, thankful that the classes were filled with students, rather than the corridors.

Cressida sighed into her pillow.

Madam Pomfrey drew the privacy curtains and broke the Silent Wall. "Let us see your leg." She flicked her wand and the bandages became transparent. "They are looking a little better, still painful though I'm sure, I'll go and get some more cream." Without waiting for a reply, she bustled away and left space between Cressida and the bed next to her.

The bed actually had someone in it. An extremely thin girl, her blonde hair tied back in a stiff bun, was reading a glossy magazine. Her cheeks were slightly sunken and her collar bone was painfully apparent, only her eyes seemed larger, more magnified. They moved over Cressida's body, condemning every curve, before meeting her eyes. Seeming to erase her previous judgements, she smiled through her small, demure mouth.

"What happened to you?"

"Oh, I...er...got into a fight."

"YOU'RE DAMN STRAIGHT YOU DID!" Grace screamed from the other side of the ward.

The girl motioned with her delicate head.

Cressida nodded.

"You stupid bitch, don't you start talking about me!" she yelled, her prefect eyes almost popping right out of her head.

The girl looked intently at Grace. "So, I suppose you weren't talking about her earlier, with all of your friends," she said calmly, almost whispering.

"Well - I - she - my face."

"And I'm sure you didn't deserve it at all," the girl replied calmly, her sarcasm only just evident. "Silencio," she added in a whisper. Grace clutched her throat, and opened and closed her mouth angrily. Cressida, filled with confidence, then hopped up and closed her blind so Madam Pomfrey wouldn't see.

Cressida turned, beaming, to the girl, who was giggling.

"An old trick I used to use on my sister," she said as Cressida returned to her bed. "My name's Ayla, by the way."

"Cressida."

"Cressida, what a sweet name. Could I call you Cressie?"

"Um...okay, sure."

She looked at her, this time examining her, rather than judging her. Her eyes rested on her purple hair. "You would look so pretty with braided hair, could I?"

"Um, okay."

Ayla sat up and patted the unused space of her bed and Cressida followed her direction. Ayla delicately, and gently, took parts of her hair and began to twist and braid it.

"This will bring out the purple more, too."

"Thank you," Cressida said. She thought of a way to repay her. "So, why are you here?" she asked.