"Compulsions"
By Lucawindmover
I guess I should begin by saying that I know that I'm not normal. I know that other people do not think the way that I do. I have a problem and I guess, for the first time, I'm truly willing to admit that to someone other than myself. But this is something that has been with me for as long as I can remember, though it became drastically worse when I began school.
Sometimes I feel like I can remember the moment when my problem started. I believe it was the day when I finally was able to read my first book…
Hermione Granger jumped with joy when she realized what she had done.
"Mum! I did it! I read the whole book!" shouted the five-year-old as she waved a thin, hard-back book at her mother.
Mrs. Granger smiled. "Oh, that is so great. You're going to be my big reader from now on, aren't you?" She said and she bent down to embrace her only daughter.
The smile on the small child's face faltered, just a fraction. "I sure am, Mum. And just to be sure I read this right, I'm going to read it three times."
Hermione pulled away from her mother and ran back to the living room couch, book in hand. She had to make sure she got all the words right because she was going to be her mum's big reader…
I know now that it wasn't my mother's fault that I have this problem, though when it truly began to frustrate me, I did blame her for it. It was easier to put it off on someone else. I suppose there are a lot of people out there who are just content to put their problems off on someone else. They don't mind not taking responsibility for their own flaws and shortcomings. I know now that I'm not one of those people.
The problem became worse as I entered grade school. The teachers would assign reading for us to do at home, and I would take my books home and pour over them, trying to absorb every last word and punctuation mark. I would read entire text books, just in case I had written down the wrong chapter. And I would always have to read the entire thing three times. Somewhere along the road, the number three became a monster to me. If I read a passage once, I might have missed something important. If I read a passage twice, I might have missed a small detail. The small detail might not be entirely important, but I would still be missing information. So if I read the passage three times, I'll have gotten all the big stuff, all the little stuff, and everything in between.
This is how I rationalized it. I know now that this thinking is not rational.
I didn't tell anyone about my little problem, about my monster number three. At first, I just figured everyone did it. I had no idea that I was the only one sitting in my grade school classes, re-reading everything handed to me at least three times.
But when I was in fourth grade, my last year before Hogwarts, I held a study group at my house. Really, it had been an excuse to get my mother to let me have a few friends over on a school night and it had worked. Two of my best muggle friends, Misty and Edward, sat in my living room floor with me, eating snacks and laughing about nothing in particular. We began to study and my little secret came out…
"Okay, Hermione, spell 'rough'," Edward said, looking up from a spelling list in his hands.
Hermione smiled confidently. "Okay, rough…r-o-u-g-h, rough! That's right, isn't it?"
Edward nodded.
"Okay, let me see the sheet," Hermione said taking the sheet to make sure she had really been right, which she had been. "Okay, take this back and let me do that one two more times."
Edward furrowed his brow and looked over at Misty, who just shrugged her shoulders and returned his puzzled look. "Uh, why? You've already spelled it right."
Hermione, not thinking it strange at all, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You know, just in case. I never do it once, I always do it three times."
"Just in case what, Hermione? You just spelled it right, you know you can spell it right," Misty said, confused.
"I just have to do it three times, okay. THREE TIMES!" Hermione said, beginning to lose her patience with her friends. She couldn't understand why they didn't understand.
"Okay, okay. Fine. We'll do it the crazy way, spell 'rough' again," Edward said, rolling his eyes.
The crazy way. It was after that moment I realized something might be wrong. They obviously thought something was wrong with me because of the way I studied. So I didn't study with them anymore. We remained friends, and still are when I'm home from Hogwarts, but I never mentioned it again after that. They haven't either, a real testament to the unfaltering nature of strong childhood friendships.
The summer that I received my first Hogwarts letter was the summer I found out what could be wrong with me. I had spent the whole day in the library. My mother was doing research for a project at work and I had asked her if I could come along to do some light reading. She agreed and we stayed there all day. I went through book after book, searching for some reason why I could be different from everyone else.
Finally, in a psychology book, I found my answer.
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
I had a disorder. There was something wrong in my brain, some wires crossed somewhere that made it impossible, at this stage in my life, to function like everyone else did. Not only was my problem real, it had a name. Someone knew what my problem was, categorized it, and made it real.
I cried that day.
My Hogwarts letter came shortly after my discovery. My parents and I were ecstatic. To my parents, I was something beautiful, mysterious, unique. Being accepted into a prestigious school of magic was a great honor. To me, being a witch solved all my problems. Being a witch was the reason why I was different.
I believed that perhaps I wasn't so different after all. Maybe these compulsions in my head were the result of being a witch. Maybe all the other students would be just like me.
This became my mantra, my hope. This logical reasoning became my light in the darkness. I hurried my parents to get my supplies as soon as possible. Once I got my books, I dove into them headlong, intent on learning everything I could about who I was. I was certain I'd discover the root of my compulsions somewhere in these books.
By the time summer came to a close, I had read each of my school texts through three times or more. I had picked up a few other books of reference and read them all as well. I felt fairly secure in the fact that I would be just as well-informed as anyone who had grown up in a wizarding home. I grabbed my packed trunk on September 1st, more than ready to meet others like me.
I was silently impressed by the Hogwarts Express. All around the platform were other children like me. I was sure of it.
Hermione gasped in wonder at the scarlet steam engine. All around her bustled children of all ages and their parents, who were trying to get them all aboard. She grinned and hefted her trunk aboard, ready to talk to other students who shared her talents.
Before long, she'd acquired a compartment and met a few fellow first years who were equally anxious to reach their destination.
"How far have you read through the course material?" Hermione asked a queasy-looking Neville Longbottom.
Neville gulped, trying desperately to hang on to his toad, Trevor. "I didn't actually read anything yet. Spent the summer helping Gran clean out the attic."
Hermione gasped. "You've not read anything?"
Neville shook his head. At this point, Trevor finally managed to break free and hopped off with Neville not far behind.
Hermione looked to her other classmates, a set of twins, Parvati and Padma Patil. "Have you read then?"
Padma shook her head as Parvati answered. "No, we spent the summer visiting family in India. We were too busy."
Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but clamped it shut instead. Realization struck her and she fell silent, much to the relief of the others in her compartment.
It was at that moment that my hopes failed me. Everything I had wished for and dreamed of the whole summer was dashed to pieces in the compartment of the train that day.
I felt like I did in the library all over again. The weight was back on my shoulders and I knew there was nothing to take it away this time. There was nothing I could do but learn to cope with the monster number three.
The first few months of school were dreadful and wonderful at the same time. I quickly found that I was ahead of everyone else in my year. I knew all the answers to the questions the professors would ask in class. I finished my homework in record time because I rarely had to make reference to my school books. Essays were easy for me. Tests and quizzes were almost a joke. I felt invincible, really.
But I had no friends. People called me a "know-it-all" and a "goody-goody" and whatnot. I guess they were right. Back then, I used my knowledge as an expiator for my compulsions. My knowledge was the one good thing I gleaned from my inability to put a book down. So I flaunted my skill because it was the only thing I had.
I had met a myriad new students in these months, two of which were Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. I liked them well enough, though at the time I thought their priorities were a little lacking. They cheered me up and made me laugh, gave me someone to talk to. But on the afternoon of Halloween, Ron made a terrible comment about me having no friends and it devastated me. Until that point, I had counted them as friends, and they obviously didn't return the feelings.
Hermione took off in the direction of the girl's lavatory. She didn't want those boys to see her cry, or anyone for that matter. For the first time, she didn't care if she missed classes. She didn't care if she missed dinner. It didn't matter to her that they would be having a Halloween feast. It didn't matter because she had no friends. The two people she had counted as friends didn't even like her.
She sobbed for a while, would calm down, and then get riled up and sob again. She couldn't help it. She felt so alone. She had no one to confide in about her growing anxiety with the number three. Hermione had even begun washing her hands three times, every time she went to the bathroom. She had begun checking her backpack three times before heading to class, to make sure she had everything. She had even begun brushing her teeth three times in the morning and three at night. Her parents, the dentists, would be furious at this because she had to be taking the enamel off of her teeth.
But she couldn't stop it. And now these same compulsions were keeping her from making friends. As she began to cry again, she heard the most terrifying sound of a mountain troll entering the bathroom in which she sat.
They saved me that day. They saved me in more ways than they will ever know.
After I became friends with Harry and Ron, the hold that my compulsions had over me began to weaken. The boys distracted me. For the first time, I didn't have time to brush my teeth three times before breakfast…I had to go to the library and research something for Harry. I didn't have time to check my backpack three times before class because I had to meet Harry and Ron somewhere. And every once in a while, I didn't have time to read something three times through because Ron needed his homework checked.
They were my saviors, and became my best friends. I have never told them the ways in which they were able to help me overcome the biggest hurdle in my life. I don't want to embarrass them, or admit my problem to them. I'm content to know that they have helped me. I guess that's why I do their homework as often as I do.
It's something I'll always cope with though. It doesn't go completely away. I have irrational moments of anxiety from time to time, when I have to read something three times, or check something three times. But it isn't like is used to be. And for that I'm thankful.
One of these days, I'll get around to thanking those boys for everything.
A/N: I originally wrote this in response to Lyn Midnight's Dissection of Man's Psyche: Dealing with Reality: The Real Life Collection challenge. But I decided I wasn't too keen on the idea of submitting it under any other account. This was a challenge for me to write. I don't usually like to work in first person and it's a little dark to me. I have enjoyed the journey though.
I did research on Obsessive Compulsive Disorder before I began writing. If I missed anything in translation, and have offended anyone, I extend my most sincerest of apologies. If this is the case with any of my readers, please do not leave a flaming review. Instead, please pm me, and I will find a way to fix my story. Thank you for your time and your reviews.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. J.K. Rowling is the genius behind Harry Potter and those things related to Harry Potter. I just enjoy tormenting the wonderful characters she has created for us.
Update: As of July 5, 2011, this is a completed story. I wrote it ages ago, before the last book came out. All of my Harry Potter fanfiction used to be posted on another site. I've recently decided to move all of my finished stories here. I'll post the next chapter tomorrow. Thank you for reading and please review.
Also, I now have set up a separate Facebook account for my writing! www . facebook . com/Lucawindmover (minus the spaces). This is a great way to keep informed about updates, brainstorming, ask questions and give feedback. For authors, it's a great way to bounce ideas and keep in touch. I hope you will all friend-request me. It's been a lot of fun using this account to keep up with writing!