Written by: Snow Illusion
Dedicated to: J.K. Rowling
Disclaimer: All rights of Harry Potter and anything related to such subjects are copyrighted to J.K. Rowling.
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Umm…yeah…so this is it…sorry there's no romance yet…this is just an information chapter on Hannah and Hufflepuffs. If ya guys like it, I'll continue it. :D Love you guys so much. I hope you enjoy the story.
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Glass was shattering.
Not again.
It landed on her, showering blood and cutting open flesh that seemed to pour not only her own mind, but her soul.
Not today.
She screamed in pure terror, grasping onto anything that showed it's gleaming face in her sight. Her voice was cracking. Her hands were slipping. She was falling…falling…falling.
Not today.
The world rushed back to her in a haze of blinding light. She sat straight up in bed, her lips tight against her face, her eyes filled with unbeckoned fear, her skin sweaty and cool.
"Not today!" she cried, tears streaming down her face, dampening her night gown. Her fingernails dug into her sheets as her chest heaved up and down, struggling to catch the breath she had lost some time in the night. She couldn't stop screaming.
"What is it?" another voice yawned, canary silk sheets sliding away into their protective posts. A round face peeked into her bed, bobbing with auburn pigtails that fell to her elbows. Her face sagged with unslept sleep, her pajamas hanging off her body and trying to pull her back into her haven. But Susan wouldn't allow it. She had to be there for her friend.
"Hannah, it's okay. Calm down, just breathe," Susan comforted, making her way into Hannah's bed. Hannah continued to cry, but her grip on the sheet's loosened. In a second, Susan wrapped her arm around Hannah's neck and lightly stroked the side of her face. Hannah's sobs subdued to sniffles. Her eyes widened, emerging crimson sockets of veins that crept to the corners and stretched around her head.
"Susan?" Hannah whimpered, and she broke down completely, cradling her pale face into Susan's soft shoulder.
* * *
The next morning was not a pleasant one for Hannah Abbot. She woke up with a pounding headache. For that dismal time where she was lying in the place between sleep and awake, she thought she had a hangover from last night's nightmare. Of course, that was impossible, she constantly reassured herself.
Her warm shower soothed her aching head, but that was about all that did. She even forgot to take out her traditional pigtails as she stepped in, and slowly swore at herself through the whole shower in convenient intervals. Especially when it came time to wash her hair. She cursed one last time before she stepped out, wrapping a yellow towel around her cold, naked body.
She studied herself in the mirror. Her face, now dripping with water, her wet braids sopped over her shoulders, her mild curves and small breasts. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before wiping any self-demeaning thoughts from her head.
It was only a matter a time before she made it down to the common room, receiving stares from almost everyone in the room. Her paced slowed and she slid her fingers down the black railing leading down the stairs. She stopped at the foot of the stairs before being greeting by her best friend Susan.
Susan's hazel eyes darted side to side before coming to land on Hannah's confused expression.
"Susan? Why is everyone staring at me?" Hannah whispered in Susan's ear. Susan's face fell and she grabbed Hannah's wrist, dragging her over to a secluded area of the Common Room where a huge portrait of a Badger hung above their heads. A million pairs of eyes followed them.
"Come here," Susan demanded, yanking her farther away from the other residents of the Hufflepuff house. At last, they were unseen.
"What?" Hannah asked again, her voice dropping.
Susan blinked solemnly. "Remember last night?"
Hannah gulped and staggered, placing her hand on the wall for support so she wouldn't topple to the ground. She could just imagine her classmates standing from their sitting positions, looking over to see what had happened to the already deranged Hannah Abbott. Fallen on her face again? Tripped on her robes? It would give them more to talk about then what they already supposedly knew about her.
"I'll take that as a yes," Susan replied.
Hannah nodded.
"Well…" Susan began. "You're screaming seemed to be just a tad bit louder than you or me registered in our foggy brains last night."
"A tad?" Hanna asked disbelievingly. "What does that mean, Susan?" Hannah was now growing angry. Her light brows knitted in confusion. What was Susan getting on to?
"It woke up the whole Common Room."
Hannah stared for a bit and didn't reply.
"Some of the other girls got a bit, well, scared are the best way to put it, Hannah. They reported it to Professor Sprout."
Oh, God. Professor Sprout. Humble, caring, loyal, Professor Sprout. Or, anybody else who wasn't in Hufflepuff, thought. Behind her positive façade, Professor Sprout was ambitious. She was determined. She was strict. In fact, if Hannah hadn't been reminded at how hard Professor Sprout worked to keep all her plants in order, she would have wondered why she was the head of Hufflepuff House at all. She definitely would have been better as Slytherin's.
"Professor Sprout?" Hannah uttered again. She had a knack for repeating things. Her eyes glossed over. There were three guesses on what Professor Sprout would do, and the first two didn't count.
When younger, Professor Sprout constantly reminded her students, she was always the subject of many jokes and insults. Professor Sprout knew it was partially because of her looks; her nappy hair and her round figure would make anybody laugh she grimly admitted, but also because she was in Hufflepuff. Back in her so-called day, Hufflepuffs didn't have it off as easy as she thought Hannah's generation did. They were kicked, laughed at, and generally shunted every way except the right way. But now, Hufflepuffs were remembered for their loyalty and hard work, as they should be remembered.
Hannah scoffed at the thought. Remembered? Hufflepuffs weren't remembered. They were still looked upon as just a 'load o' duffers' as some might say, and Hannah surmised that they might actually have it worse than what Professor Sprout proclaimed had been done to her. Sometimes, although this had never happened to Hannah, other students would steal a Hufflepuff's wand and shove it on to the grounds, or in front of Albus Dumbledore, or some other random and embarrassing place. It was the wizarding equivalent of hanging underwear on a flagpole with muggle's. It wasn't the Hufflepuff's fault though. It was in their pure nature to be friendly, out going, and trustworthy. Not their fault that everyone else wasn't. And it definitely wasn't their fault that Slytherin's were the exact opposite of everything they tried to achieve.
Of course, Professor Sprout knew nothing of this sort, so she would just continue to ramble on and on about how hard it was for her. And that was when it was pushed for the students.
Professor Sprout demanded perfection. She never wanted to have another Hufflepuff go through what she had. Although Hannah knew that Professor Sprout had good intentions, it seemed to wear her and everyone else to the bone because the punishments were horrific. Just horrific.
So when Hannah knew that Professor Sprout had found out she was having nightmares, she had every right to be terrified.
"Hannah?" Susan's voice trembled. When Hannah's crystal blue eyes had become misty, Susan was afraid her friend was going to lapse into a seizure of some sort. Although, Susan knew why. She had been punished enough by Professor Sprout to know what was coming for Hannah. After collapsing to the floor and crying in the Common Room in second year for two hours straight because a boy from Slytherin had cut off half of her left pigtail, Professor Sprout had confined her to punishment for four hours. But that wasn't the worst of it. Professor Sprout made her cut her hair to her shoulders to level her hair, and ordered her to never let her hair grow that long again.
"Besides," Professor Sprout echoed in her head. "No girl's hair should be too long."
Now, Susan only grew her hair to her elbows, opposed to her waist. Plus, Susan had taught herself not to cry. It had taken weeks of influencing herself to annoy Slytherin's so they would in turn pester her so she could finally learn to contain her emotions. It had worked. So far. At least when a Ravenclaw, unaware Susan was in her presence, had commented not so positively on her intelligence, Susan didn't run into her dormitory absolutely bursting. She had become strong.
Hannah didn't have time to reply. It seemed even though they had moved from everyone else's line of sight, and reduced their voices to less than a mere whisper, the other students had caught wind of their conversation. There was no need to hide it anymore. They were afraid for Hannah.
Ernie Macmillan, a pudgy boy in Hannah's year, had risen from his seat, and seemed to take the voice of the people in the Common Room.
"Hannah," his voice choked. They all knew what would happen. They had all gone through it one point or another. Either it was for being late for class, or gaining an obvious amount of weight in a small period of time, they had all gone through the punishment.
Only a few first years had no idea what was going on, and even they looked afraid.
It was at that time that Hannah broke down.
Ernie didn't hesitate to run over and catch her. It was instinct. Hannah responded to Ernie's gentle touch and quietly cried into his robes. Ernie soothed her with calming words and gently stroked her blonde braids. But before she could get too comfortable, he pulled her up from his protective grasp.
"Now come on Hannah," he whispered dangerously, harshly wiping tears from her face. "Professor Sprout will be here any minute. Be strong, Hannah," he coached, standing to his full height, a full head taller than Hannah herself. Hannah sniffled lightly.
"Be strong," Ernie said again. He lifted his hand to touch Hannah's face again, but she winced. Opposed to his roughdrying of her tears, he lightly ran his fingers through her hair. He took one more glance at her through his watery blue eyes and turned away, back into his dormitory. He slammed the door behind him, making the very walls shake.
Hannah started to cry again. But it wasn't for her; it was for all of them. All of the Hufflepuffs.
Especially Ernie.
He had it the worst of them.
He had it the worst than any of them, even in their wildest dreams, ever considered. Unable to keep his marks other than his Transfiguration grades up, and constantly falling asleep everywhere and anywhere, Ernie was subjected to punishment at least once a week. It might have been only minutes at a time, but everyone who was anyone could see the hurt and pain in his face. Even other students not in their house had decided to lighten up around him. Harry Potter had once invited him to a Hogsmeade party; the farthest any Hufflepuff had gotten close to someone outside their house. Hannah had congratulated him and patted him on the back for at least five minutes when he came back to the Common Room, smelling of Butterbeer, sweets, and fun. Unfortunately, he had even gotten punishment for that. He was ten minutes late for curfew.
Susan came up behind Hannah and positioned her hand on her shoulder. She offered no words of encouragement; just her steady breathing and the physical contact that reassured Hannah that she was not alone. And she would never be alone. Because she was in Hufflepuff, and no matter what any Hufflepuff, big or small, boy or girl, did, they would always be there for each other. Always.
Time was frozen. That was the only conclusion Hannah come to. Everyone had stopped talking, moving, and doing anything they were doing before. She even feared they had stopped living all together, but Susan proved her wrong by moving to stand next to her. Hannah looked over to her friend, thankful for her support. Susan continued to stare ahead, impending doom.
They were all impending doom. Those that weren't involved in Hannah's affairs were clutching anything they could hang on to. They had all seen Professor Sprout's wrath.
A watermelon-sized lump had shoved its way down Hannah's throat. She wanted Professor Sprout to be there now. She much preferred to have something over and done with then waiting it out.
And then, they all heard. The unmistaken pitter-patter of Professor Sprout's dainty footsteps. It reverberated through the corridor that led to the Hufflepuff Common Room, and when the footsteps had stopped, Hannah knew it was her time.
She had to be strong. Like Ernie had said.
She stepped up to the entrance and held back tears. Her hands clutched the sides of her robes so hard she was afraid they would just rip. They were second hand, and Hannah wouldn't be that surprised if they did.
Hannah felt as if a strong gale of wind had psychologically thrown her back as the statue moved over slowly. So slowly, Hannah was again convinced that time was torturing her. At last, it revealed what all the students feared.
Professor Sprout made her way into the Common Room, surveying her students. Some of them had actually managed to gather enough strength to scurry away, and the others all seemed petrified. She licked her lips and straightened her crooked witches hat. Her robes were emerald green today, draped over her bulky shoulders and hugging her swollen figure tightly. Her eyes were tiny sockets enveloped in the folds of her face, and her nose was flared with enough fire to melt the polar ice caps. She blinked and waddled forward.
"Hannah Abbott," her smooth voice said, examining the Common Room for a head of blonde pigtail braids.
"I have a bone to pick with you," she continued, her meaty arms coming to rest behind her back. She smiled deviously and rocked back and forth before noticing Hannah was exactly where she wanted her to be: in front of her.
"Professor Sprout," Hannah croaked, her head slowly finding a nice particular spot on the yellow and black carpet. Hmm…she mused. There was a red juice stain. Whoever spilled that was going to be in big trouble. It was weird what people think about when they're about be maimed.
"You look at me when you speak to me," Professor Sprout ordered. "You should be confident," she said specifically to Hannah. "You should all be confident." This time, she said it to the rest of them.
Mustering all her strength, Hannah met Professor Sprout's beady gray eyes with her own. She bit her lower lip.
"Hannah," Professor Sprout started again. "There are some girls that are saying…" she dragged on, walking around the Common Room, quietly pointing out small things that were wrong to the students.
"Tuck in your shirt, Whitby," she casually pointed out. "Stand up straight, Perks." She grabbed Sally-Anne's shoulder and cracked her back. Sally-Anne moaned slightly in pain, but held it in her mouth so Professor Sprout couldn't hear. Professor Sprout gave her a disappointed glance and eventually moved back to Hannah.
"Yes?" Hannah whispered. "What did the girls say?"
"They said you were having nightmares," she explained. Her voice had risen, but it was as silky as ever. Hannah hated it. She would have liked it better if she was screaming and shouting at her, but that really didn't seem like an option at that point.
Hannah felt as if her heart had exploded. She was now aware of every breath she was taking, every time her heart pounded, and every time her chest rose. Her headache resurfaced. Damn it all.
She wanted to reply. Maybe she would lie. She didn't lie often, Hufflepuffs weren't supposed to, but when she did, it was believable. Really believable. But something about Professor Sprout put her off about it. Professor Sprout knew. There would be no way to convince her otherwise.
"Let me ask you something," Professor Sprout said. Now, she wasn't focusing directly on Hannah's face, she was inspecting every bit of her. She walked around Hannah, as if she was some sort of freak model on display for her. She seemed satisfied enough to come face to face with her again.
"Does, let's say, a Gryffindor have nightmares?" Professor Sprout's tiny eyes bulged. "What about a Ravenclaw? No?" She was acting innocent, her hands still tied around her back. "Or maybe…a Slytherin? Nope, I don't think so either."
The room became cold. Hannah shivered involuntarily. She knew what was coming next. Punishment. "So…why…is a Hufflepuff having nightmares?" She was spitting at it. Why was she spitting at her? Hannah couldn't control her sub-conscious. Maybe Professor Sprout thought there was something mentally wrong with her. Hannah didn't know how right she was.
"There's only one way to correct something mentally."
Please. Don't make it too long. Hannah had seen the faces of some older students that had stayed for eight hours. Once, Hannah had seen one that had spent a whole day and a half. As soon as he stepped out, he had collapsed upon the floor, twitching. Professor Sprout had looked at him in disgust and told them all that they could learn a lesson from him. Two of his friends, a boy and a girl, had hoisted him from the ground and managed to get him to his bed. Hannah didn't see him again until days after, and even then, he was quiet and distant.
"Discipline," she hissed, looking at all the students once more. "Is the only way to improve someone."
Hannah's throat went dry. Her heart pounded recklessly in her ears. Here it comes. How long would it be? How long would she be in there, slowing going crazy, rocking back and forth, banging the walls until her fists bled and she had no more tears to cry?
Professor Sprout was looking at Hannah again. A maniacal grin had stretched on her fat lips.
"Three days."
The world slipped from beneath Hannah and she knew no more.
* * *
When Hannah awoke, she was surrounded by steel walls that reflected her. In the corner there lay a single cot with one blanket and no pillow. The room seemed oddly familiar. Although she was only as in here once before, the memories still haunted her.
It had happened so long ago, Hannah was amazed that her mind just hadn't blocked it from her memory. It was third year, and Sirius Black was on the loose. Everyone was convinced that he was after Harry Potter, and Hannah agreed with them. The real mystery of that year was: "How was he getting in?" After having one of the only nice conversations she had with Professor Sprout about herbagus', a person who could turn into a plant once people asked her, she had gone around the school telling anyone who would listen that Sirius Black could turn into a Flowering Shrub. And no one believed her. After all, she was in Hufflepuff, wasn't she? Who would believe her?
But, that didn't mean she wouldn't be reprimanded for it. Professor Sprout, tired of theories flying about Black, thrust Hannah into punishment for two hours for spreading lies around school.
It had been absolute torment. It seemed as if forever, staring at herself in her eerie mirror image, going over and over in her head what she had done, and how it was wrong. That's what you were supposed to do in punishment. Figure out what you did wrong and fix it. So, Hannah sat there, screaming until her throat was sore on how she was wrong for lying. She was wrong for lying. It was wrong to lie.
Finally, the door screamed open and Professor Sprout ripped her from the Punishment Room by her collar. Hannah shouted blindly and ran towards her room where she would sleep for the next day.
Fresh tears burned in her eyes as she remembered what had gone through her mind. And she mentally screamed for what she knew what would come of the next three days.
Three days?
That's the longest…the longest anyone had ever been in Punishment.
Her head lolled to the side, where she gazed on absolutely nothing. What had she done so wrong? She was fifteen years old. She was entitled to have some teenage behavior! Wasn't having nightmares normal? It was normal…right?
She had a sickening feeling it wasn't. But it just had to be.
She wondered what Susan was doing. Maybe she was finishing up their Divination project due next class. Or maybe she was joking with Justin. Justin always told the best jokes.
Hannah sighed to herself. Then her body was racked with unwelcomed sobs. She didn't know if she would survive the three days. She didn't know if she would get food or water, she was only in here for two hours the last time, and she had never dared to ask anyone else who had been in there longer than that what had happened.
Not even Susan. Hannah could never get that image out of her head no matter how hard she tried. When Susan had appeared in front of her after four hours, she had just fallen on to the bed. Fallen face down. Hannah, afraid she would suffocate, rolled her on to her side and almost screamed at the sight of her best friend. Susan had fallen asleep with her eyes open. Round, brown eyes stared to the ceiling, and her pupils dialated as Hannah moved around. Her face was bed sheet white, and her body rigid with shock. Hannah didn't know what to do. So she left Susan like that.
Ten hours later, Susan's eyes closed.
They opened a half an hour later. Her body relaxed and she sat up in her bed, pulled back her canary yellow sheets, ran down to join her friends, acting as if nothing had happened.
Hannah hoped that didn't happen to her.
The twenty minutes that followed her reconciliation of her and her best friend's former punishments were fine. Just dandy. But everything past that went straight to Hell.
Since Hannah had run out of anything else to do other than that think about what would become of her rotting corpse as she was dragged out of here, she decided to at least do what she was supposed to. She surrendered herself to The Punishment.
Nightmares. Hannah hated her nightmares. They had started two weeks ago. Every night. And they were the same thing over and over again. At least, she thought so. She couldn't remember. She could remember screaming, she could remember crying, and she could remember Susan. But she couldn't remember what the dream actually was. Or what made her so afraid.
Hannah wouldn't call her conceited or self-centered, but she wouldn't deny that she wasn't afraid of anything. Nothing seemed to scare her. Spiders, closed spaces, clowns, nothing. Just nothing. So what was making her so scared?
Glass.
Hannah shuddered.
Glass was shattering.
She threw her head against the wall.
It threw on to her.
She threw her head against the wall again, proving her unconscious.
Wind rustled through her hair. She was strangely comfortable wherever she was.