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Lavender wakes screaming.
A stout girl wearing a Hospital Wing assistant apron appears. She looks familiar.
“Shh. You're safe. The battle’s over.”
“Over?”
“A few weeks ago. You have amnesia, but it’s treatable.”
Lavender nods, trying to place the girl. Then she realizes: Millicent Bulstrode!
“There’s more. I was attacked.” She remembers claws, teeth, pain.
Millicent frowns. “Don’t worry about that now.”
Lavender’s fingers trace the ridged and mottled scars on her face.
“I’m hideous!” She weeps. Millicent holds her hand, and it feels familiar.
“You could use glamors, but I like your scars. They show you survived.” Lavender realizes that despite years of being mocked for her looks, Millicent has never used glamor charms.
“Anyway, take it from someone born hideous: you’re not.”
Lavender chuckles despite herself.
She suddenly remembers jokes about what a pair they make, two ugly half-breeds against the world. Then there’s a flood of memories: blanket forts, singing cheesy Celestina Warbeck songs, Millicent changing her bandages ever so tenderly, strong arms embracing her after a nightmare.
“I’ve woken up before, haven’t I?”
“A few times,” Millicent admits.
“I hope I don’t forget again.”
“I’ll help you remember.”
Lavender squeezes Millicent’s hand and knows it’s true.