Do you remember when you said Quidditch was an incredibly dangerous sport and if I wanted to play, I better know what I was doing? Do you also remember last summer, when you said it was lucky I hadn’t been injured badly yet in all my years of playing?
I’m alive; that’s the good news. December is writing down this letter for me because I can’t use my arms yet, and her handwriting is atrocious; that’s the bad news.
Do you remember December? My arch-nemesis? I’ve talked about her a lot. I love her.
Yes, Dec, write this down. Don’t act so surprised, yeah it’s the first time I said it, I... [here the handwriting trails off, then resumes again further down the page.]
Anyway, I won’t be playing in the next Quidditch match, and I won’t be coming home for Christmas. I won’t be doing, um, a lot of things, as it turns out. I’m fine, though. It’s not too bad. I’ll be healed soon! Nurse Marrens and Professor Draymore are amazing, even if they give me awful-tasting potions every other minute.
Dec, that’s not what I said! I’m fine!
Yes, I know I can’t walk! No, I don’t care if it’s lying! Just write the damn letter! No, don’t write this part down.
Your daughter, Narcisa Avis, still the world’s best Keeper
(aw, Dec, you didn’t have to write that. Thank you.)