Wangji didn't know how long it had been since Albus... Penny Water something... Dumbledore had apparently left to settle a small debt, but the sun was now shining brightly through the room.

It must be noon, he thought, as he sat quietly in the room, observing the brilliant rays of sunlight streaming through the large stained-glass windows. The vibrant colours danced on the walls, casting intricate patterns that changed with the slightest movement of the light.

Wangji debated getting up; Dumbledore had said he was free to explore the castle, the thought of this being a castle as well as a school did intrigue him quite a bit. But he also felt like he couldn't muster the strength to get out of bed.

He was sure that once he did, he would be fine, after all, whoever had healed the wounds on his back did a very good job. For gashes like that, fully closing up would take weeks, not days. It still hurt a lot, but it was tolerable.

"Should I?" Wangji cringed at his voice once again. Was he stuck like that now? He hoped not. The urge to explore soon took over the urge to stay in bed and slowly rot away into nothingness and become one with the infinite, black void that was death. He supposed he could do that after he'd seen the place a bit more.

He gave himself a glance, he had been given a small cotton cremè beige blanket to wrap around himself and some comfortable off white baggy trousers that just about swept the floor. He would need to change, he couldn't wander around a castle in this, he... His eyes swept over to the side table, where his Lan robes lay.

Wangji stared at his robes lying on the table and felt dread slowly rise up in him. The silver guan untarnished and shining brightly. The Gusu Lan cloud motif was just as perfect as it had been before he... The clouds seemed to taunt him, mocking him with their perfection, their neatness.

We survived, and we're still intact, we'll always be perfect. We were fixed, but what about you? You're broken. Broken beyond repair. No one can fix you; no one will ever be able to fix you. The one person who could have fixed you is dead.

Dread was replaced bit by bit with rage, seething rage. He was far away from them, so far away, and yet they could still hurt him like this.

Why were they always there? Why was his clan always mocking him, turning their eyes away from blatant suffering, always pure and pristine, always ivory white and flawless? He wanted to tear the robes up, cut them, slash them, burn them. He wanted to torch them, singe them, incinerate them. Incinerate, incinerate, incinerate incinerate. INCINERATE IT!

The side table burst into flames before his very eyes.

Rage was quickly replaced with pure panic. No, no, no!, What did he just do? What did he just do?! Wangji tried to pat down the flames, but just ended up burning his fingertips. No, no, just stop, stop burning the desk!!! As quickly as the flames started, they stopped, leaving only a huge billowing plume of black smoke slowly rising towards the ceiling.

He... How did he do that? He... sort of meant it, he wanted them to burst into flames. But that didn't mean he could actually do something to burst into a blaze! How?!

He couldn't even remember it now, it just felt right, he didn't even know what he was doing, his lips just moved on their own. Wangji thought back to what Dumbledore said before. He... He called him a wizard, He said the basic principles aligned.... Did he just...

His train of thought was abruptly cut off by the sound of footsteps nearing ever closer.

"Good morning dear...." Madam Pomfrey trailed off as she saw the burnt-to-a-crisp robes on the scorched table, along with Wangji, who looked like he'd been caught stealing from a cookie jar.

"...Oh dear."

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"It's perfectly fine, darling, it's just a table." Madam Pomfrey said soothingly, although there was a slight furrow to her tawny-coloured brows as she looked at the scorch marks and then back at him. Wangji just looked down at his hands in shame; she had put some cooling salve on them, and he barely felt the burns. However, the horrible guilt didn't go away.

The last time he felt this guilty was when he was nine and accidentally smashed one of his uncle's favourite teacups. He was shouted at for half an hour and felt absolutely nauseous afterwards.

This wasn't how he wanted to go about meeting the person who had put so much time effort and magic into healing the endless wounds on his back.

So much for first impressions, this was probably one of the worst ways you could introduce yourself. Setting a table on fire with your mind. Lovely.

"I did not intend to..." Wangji said quietly.

"I know you didn't mean to, dear. Although that was quite a Fire-Making Charm, and on your first try too and without a wand. " She smiled cheerily as if she was impressed by the fact he set something alight.

Ah, so that's what it was, a fire-making charm. He usually needed cinnabar and joss paper to do that. He would have rathered that it wasn't so easy to set things alight, otherwise, it might not be long before the entire hospital ward was burned down.

"Here you go love, it helps, after all, you need to get your strength back we can't have you living off nutrient potions." Madam Pomfrey passed a bowl of hot steaming creamy soup with carrots floating around. He briefly wondered where on earth the bowl came from, but he supposed he could just chart it down to magic.

Wangji wordlessly took the bowl if only to be polite, and started pushing the carrots around, looking more like a sulking toddler than a grown man.

"Don't worry so much dear, I'll just mend the robes again, so there-" Madam Pomfrey started off.

"No!" Wangji startled both Madam Pomfrey and himself.

"I... It..." Wangji trailed off, feeling foolish at his outburst. He felt foolish at the fact that he had burned them in the first place. He... He really hated them, didn't he? The thought of wearing those robes again made him feel sick.

Madam Pomfrey gave a motherly sigh of understanding. Her heart-shaped face gave a look of sympathy as the crow's feet by her hazel-coloured eyes creased up.

"Alright then," Madam Pomfrey waved her wand and his beige blanket started to warp and change. Sleeves and a collar started to form around him until he was looking down at a...top? Blanket? Blanket top? Whatever it was, it was soft and warm, and it was extremely comforting to feel under his fingertips. His trousers felt nicer too, the waist was more defined, and there were clear-cut creases. It wasn't at all what he was used to, but it was so...comforting. It was warm, too. Warm and toasty.

With another wave of a wand a pair of shoes, with a pair of socks, appeared next to him.

"We can't have you exploring the castle barefoot now, can we?" Madam Pomfrey smiled before taking off her apron and flooding it neatly over her chair.

" However," She added, looking all of a sudden professional and serious, for a split second her tawny hair looked more like a blazing fire in the sun.

" I do expect that bowl to be empty before you go off and have any adventures.

And with that final note, Madam Pomfrey strolled out of the ward with the gait and quiet elegance of someone who could only be a healer.

Wangji stared at the bowl in his hands, he was sure it tasted nice, and he didn't see any meat in it. But the thought of eating anything felt terrible right now.

Wangji dazedly started at Madam Pomfrey's tatty, stained apron hanging over the wooden chair.

He may not feel up to eating, but the thought of disappointing her, somehow, seemed a thousand times worse.

After what felt like an eternity of pushing around the soup that just wouldn't get cold no matter how long he took, he finally took a bite. It....was creamy, and soft. Like potatoes from the hearth. It wasn't bland like the things he was used to, but it wasn't so much that his taste buds were overpowered. It was just a little sweet, and there were things that looked like cubes of bread too.

It felt...comforting. More so than any meal he'd been served in the Gusu Lan sect. He felt full in every sense.

He thought that it might be one of the best soups he had had. The flavour stuck to his tongue, and he did feel a lot stronger. Now that he had a pair of shoes and a stomach full of soup. The thought of exploring the castle now felt a lot less daunting, and maybe, just maybe even a bit exciting. 

So, Madam Pomfrey has fully come onto the scene in Wangji's journey. I'm trying to make the word count at least exceed 1300, but it isn't nearly as easy as I thought. This chapter is completely freestyle and not from my pre-existing drafts. 

I almost prefer it that way, because at least then I don't have to try and decipher my handwriting that looks more like Elvish than English. But I know, that once I start to get into the drafts and get them all down digitally, it should be fun and smooth sailing. At least I hope so. 

I had no clue as to what Madam Pomfrey looked like in the books, so I just made something up on the fly. I barely put any thought into it really, but I knew I wanted her to have tawny hair. Mainly because I just like the word tawny. It makes me think of tawny owls. 

Also, what do you think of Wangji's outfit? I want it to look comfy but also old-money elegant. I'm having way too much fun generating images with ChatGPT, it really helps bring out inspiration for things. I guarantee that it won't be the last personalised image you see on this fic. 

That's all for now.

Stay safe and stay fabulous.

Sincerely, Amethyst.