Patrick watched them go, he hadn't even thanked the professor or the headmistress for getting his niece safely to him. Scarred for life yes, a monster yes but alive!
He turned back to her and sighed. He checked the magical ropes that bound her and wished he could release them but he daren't.
He walked to the cabinet and retrieve a bottle of the Draught of Peace. He administered a decent quantity, enough to send her into a peaceful sleep for the next few hours.
Patrick sat on the stool and watched her. He buried his face into the sheets beside her hand and cried. He had never been a man for showing much emotion before but this was his 'Ace' his favourite out of all his neices and nephews. She had been fearless since the day she could sit up. He had always known she'd be a Gryffindor and had been so proud of her when she had become one. What now? he asked himself, where does her life go from here?
He stood up and walked about the ward, he pulled out his wand and pointed it at the door with a flick he charmed the door into locking. He didn't want anyone walking in and seeing her. Patrick's mood was changing slowly from grief to anger. He strode back to the potions cabinet and as he was putting the bottle back saw a small black ceramic bottle at the back.
He reached in and grabbed it, cursing.
"This might have helped", he cried in anguish as he looked at the bottle that contained some phoenix tears. He knew it was too late now. Her body had reacted, had changed had become infected.
He raised the bottle above his head and nearly brought it crashing to the floor, instead he turned and slammed it back into the cabinet. He stormed into his office and looking at the photographs on his wall, he took down the one of Ace, his sister, Giovanni and himself at the world cup last year. They all moved about smiling and nudging one another in the photo. They had been good times, really good times.
Patrick returned to the ward with the picture and placed it on the bedside table near her. Then he sat in the chair at her side keeping his nightly vigil. Not once did he sleep, not once did he flounder.
He watched her until the moon sank from the sky and the first of the dawn chorus rose. Throughout the long hours he had made mental lists of what he needed to give her or possibly give her over the coming weeks and months to get her through this ordeal. He would have to talk with her about an alibi of course and he would have to get word to his sister.