To say Harry's first week was overwhelming would have been an understatement. Between learning names, being introduced to American customs, and sinking his teeth into classwork, his mind felt like it was going to implode under the weight of all the new information.
His schedule consisted of five classes, and each one was shared with the same nine other freshman students. Harry's week was Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays- 9:00 a.m., Advanced Herbology, 10:30 a.m., Advanced Potion Concepts & Concoctions, 1:30 p.m., Defense Against the Dark Arts. Tuesdays and Thursdays- 8:30 a.m., Concealment and Disguise, 1:00 p.m, Charms.
Harry was up early Tuesday morning, the first day of classes. Ginny's bedclothes had aided him in falling asleep, but his sleep hadn't been peaceful. The big bed was lonesome and slowly, but surely, the nightmares crept in. At five twenty-five, he was forced awake by the image of teenage Tom Riddle hovering over Ginny's lifeless body, while Harry struggled, uselessly, against the weight of the crushing basilisk.
Harry laid in bed, watching all the moving pictures of the lively girl that adorned his wall, and reassured himself that it was just a dream. Since sleep appeared to be a waste of time, he slowly made his way to the bathroom, for a shower. By six o'clock, Harry was sitting on the beach, enjoying the coolness of the sand, before the sun began its' baking. After walking the beach for an hour, he walked back to campus.
As Harry passed the dormitory, a girl named Emma Porter was just walking out. He had first met her, on Saturday afternoon, when she moved into the room next him. Emma was Hermione's American clone, at least in personality. She had gushed over Harry's collection of books, and promptly asked to borrow Hogwarts: A History. She had heard of the school and wanted to see how it compared to America's, Ilvermorny. Feeling confident that his name was not in that particular book, Harry happily lent it to her.
As for looks, Emma was Hermione's complete opposite. She had electric blue hair, ears full of piercings, eyes shadowed with black liner and lips to match. Harry was a bit taken aback when she came knocking on his door, asking for his help. The senior that had inhabited her room the previous years, had left behind a muggle poster, featuring a scantily clothed model. Emma was not amused by it, and even less so by the unyielding sticking charm that had been left on it.
When Emma spotted Harry, Tuesday morning, she jogged up to him, holding out a book to him.
"Thank you so much for letting me borrow it," Emma said, smiling. Her lipstick that day was a deep shade of violet. "It sounds like a really fun school. Quite a few similarities to Ilvermorny, like the four houses. What house were you in?"
"I was in Gryffindor," Harry answered. "I was just about to go have breakfast. Are you heading that way?"
"Yep," Emma chirped, falling into step with Harry. "Ilvermorny has four houses too- Horned Serpent, Wampus, Thunderbird, and Pukwudgie. I was a Horned Serpent."
Emma continued to chat about her old school as they entered the Golden Gate Cafe. Emma loaded up her tray with a grapefruit, a banana. granola and yogurt, and a glass of orange juice. Harry opted for oatmeal, with honey and currents, side of toast, and a cup of tea. They found Cliff already at a table, eating his way through a mountain of bacon and eggs.
"So, does every witch and wizard in this huge country attend Ilvermorny?" Harry inquired, stirring his oatmeal.
"Most do," Emma answered. "It's the biggest one and anyone with magical ability is accepted. But there are quite a few private schools around too."
"Usually only upper class, rich families send their precious little snowflakes to those kind of schools," Cliff commented. "I couldn't imagine not going to Ilvermorny. I was captain of the Wampus Quodpot team," he smiled, flexing his muscles.
"I was quidditch captain during my last year at Hogwarts," Harry replied. "Is there a quidditch team here?"
"Uh, I think there might be local rec team," Cliff mused. "In Los Angeles though, we really only follow two sports- Broomstick Beach Volleyball and Dodger's baseball."
"You've lost me on both counts," Harry said, shaking his head.
"You've played volleyball, right?" Cliff started.
"I tried a bit, during physical education classes, in my muggle school."
"Well, take that and add broomsticks," Cliff explained. "The challenge is balancing and steering your broomstick with just your legs. As for baseball, it's an American no-maj sport. The Dodgers are our local team. My Uncle Walt has season passes, and he always tosses me tickets to the games he can't make. I'll take you to the next one."
"Sounds like a valuable learning experience," Harry laughed.
Cliff continued to instruct Harry on the ins and outs of baseball, spouting off various Dodgers players and statistics, until it was time for them all to head to their first class, Concealment and Disguise, in Eureka Hall.
Harry chose a seat in the center row, thinking it the optimum row to just blend in with the rest of the class. Cliff plunked himself down in the seat to Harry's right. Emma took the seat in the front row, directly in front of Harry.
He was taking out the course book, That Which We Cannot See, when the seat to his left was suddenly occupied. Harry glanced over and saw a boy, named Grant McMann, has just sat down.
"Gotta love it when the girls outnumber the guys," Grant simpered, playfully elbowing Harry.
"Potter's already spoken for," Cliff defended.
"Even better," Grant chuckled. "More for the rest of us."
Harry pulled out a notebook and pen. At the orientation, he quickly learned that no one used quills or parchment, and he had to make a supply run the following afternoon.
Harry had just turned to chapter one, when the teacher walked in and set his briefcase on the large desk, in the very front of the classroom. The teacher appeared to not be much older than thirty and, even Harry had to admit, was quite handsome. He had dark brown hair, that was layered and fell just below his ears. His eyes were an icy blue and his strong jaw and high cheekbones were covered with stubble. He tapped the chalkboard with his wand and the name, JASON CARTER, appeared. When brushed his hair behind his ear, Harry heard a little gasp from the front row and noticed Emma sat up straighter.
"Good morning everyone," Jason greeted, with a southern drawl. "I will be your teacher for Concealment and Disguise. Please, I beg y'all, don't call me Mr. Carter. It's way too formal, and I'm anything but that. Jason will be perfectly fine, though most people just end up calling me Jase."
"Our main focus for the semester will be on disillusionment charms and basic facial transfiguration," Jason announced. "An Auror at the top of his, or her, game can become unrecognizable, even to those that know them best. Sometimes a simple pair of sunglasses and a beard is enough to not blow your cover. Other times, you find yourself with long, blonde curls and dimples, in an attempt to procure information." His analogy brought looks of disgust to some of the boy's faces and giggles from the girls. "You laugh now, but rest assured it got the job done." He opened up his briefcase and pulled out his own book, as he added, "Plus, I don't look too bad as a blonde."
They spent the bulk of class time going over the theory of disillusionment charms and wand technique. The last ten minutes, Jason allowed them to pair off to have a go at the spell. Harry quickly turned to Cliff, before Grant could suggest Harry pair up with him.
Harry had a hard time tweaking the exact wand movement and wasn't able to pull off the spell. Cliff, on the other hand, achieved a minor success in camouflaging all of Harry's hair.
"Whoa, killer scar," Cliff cried, leaning in close to Harry's forehead. Harry clapped his hand quickly over the lightning bolt shape. "How'd you land that one?"
"Car accident, when I was a kid," Harry said quickly, falling back on his aunt and uncle's old lie.
Jason passed by the pair and tapped his wand on Harry's head. "You look much better with eyebrows," he commented, before moving on to Emma and her partner.
Their first homework was describing the benefit of disillusionment charms for Aurors, and also the side effects of overuse.
During lunch, Harry got to know a few others from his class. A petite girl with long, thick, jet black hair named Naomi Suarez and quiet girl, with a blonde pixie cut, named Alana Kyle, joined him, Cliff, and Emma in the cafe. Both Naomi and Alana were from small towns; Naomi from Texas and Alana from Utah.
From them, Harry learned that not all towns in the states were as accepting of magic. While wizards in Los Angeles could be a bit lackadaisical with their magic, many smaller, close-knit towns frowned upon the thought of magic even existing. Magical families were almost forced into hiding, for fear that accidental magic from small children would be met with violence from no-majes.
Harry fell very quiet listening to the girls' stories of having to be home schooled and being restricted to their fenced in back gardens. Harry very clearly recalled the story of Dumbledore's younger sister, Arianna, being tortured by muggle neighbors, because of what she was. It pained him to know that people still suffered this pain and segregation.
A little before one o'clock, the small group made their way to Sabre-Tooth Hall and filed into the Charms classroom. Harry slid into a desk between Cliff and Alana. A plump witch, with flowing silver hair and big, round, wire rimmed glasses, beamed at them, as they found seats.
"A good afternoon to you all," the witch greeted. Her voice was high and chipper and her grey eyes gleamed, showing that she truly enjoyed being surrounded by the students. "My name is Delilah Docket, and I will be your charming Charms teacher!" Her joke sparked a few polite laughs as she clapped her hands together."
"It is my privilege to introduce you to the basic charms every Auror needs to have in their arsenal. I like to have fun with my classes, but I will not tolerate foolishness or carelessness. While the charms we will be performing over the next few months are safe, with only minor consequences in error, they form the basis for your more advanced spells as you progress through your training. Fail to master the basics, and you can bet your bottom dollar that future consequences will be much harsher."
The gleam in her eyes had dulled as she looked from student to student. "I have yet to see a class reach graduation with all ten members. I hope that this group breaks that record." Delilah nodded and clapped her hands once more. "Now, I trust you all have your books. Let's get those out and find the section on Silencing Spells."
Much like the previous class, the bulk of Charms was spent learning about the history and theory of Silencing Spells. Towards the end, the teacher paired them off and told them to "hang tight" while she procured their victims from her office.
Harry was coupled with a girl named Sophie Miller. He had noticed her around the dorm, and in Concealment class she had sat in the very back row. She was tall, with long, perfectly curled, blonde hair, sapphire eyes and blood red lips. When their names had been called to pair up, Sophie showed no sign of budging from her seat, so Harry quickly gathered his things and moved to the back row.
"Hi there," Harry greeted, reopening his notebook. "I'm Harry."
"I know," Sophie smirked. "I've seen you around. I adore your accent. Where are you from?"
"England," Harry answered. "And you? Are you from Los Angeles?"
"No, San Francisco. Ever been?"
"Not yet. This is my first time in the states."
"Oh, it's a great city. You should come visit sometime. I could show you around," Sophie leered. She leaned forward, pushing up her already ample chest, and slid her hand along Harry's forearm.
"Here we are!" Delilah proclaimed. Harry exhaled slowly, in relief, as the professor floated a shoebox to each pair. "There are your willing victims. Let's see if you can keep them quiet."
Sophie removed the lid and leapt back, with a scream of, "Eww, mice!"
Sure enough, scurrying around in a bed of cedar chips, were three tiny, squeaking, white mice. Harry shot a skeptical look back at Sophie, who was practically out the door.
"It's just a couple of feeder mice," Harry laughed. "They won't hurt you."
"They're disgusting! What if they jump on me?" Sophie fretted.
Harry groaned and conjured up a net, wishing he could use the silencing spell on his partner.
"There," Harry urged, securing the net, over the box. "You're safe now."
Sophie reluctantly returned to the desk, her wand pointed at the box, as if afraid the entire thing would hurl itself at her, at any moment.
"Silencio!" she cried, poking her wand toward the mice. Not surprisingly, the little critters continued to squeak and claw at the cardboard. Sophie attempted the spell four more times, each with the same result. "Why won't these rodents shut up!" she gritted.
"When you say the incantation, try keeping your voice firm, yet slow and even," Harry suggested. "And you barely have to move your wand. Just a sharp jab." Harry pointed his wand at a mouse that had managed to climb onto the net, and was hanging upside down. With a minute jab of his wand, he asserted, "Silencio," and the squeaking ceased. Harry repeated the spell two more times and the only sound from their box was the scratching of miniature claws.
"You're really good at this," Sophie admired, placing her hand on Harry's shoulder.
Delilah was just passing their table and echoed Sophie's sentiments. "I see Filius taught you well! Am I right in presuming that you can lift the spell?"
With a wave of his wand, Harry let the mice resume their squeaking. "You know Professor Flitwick?" he asked, warily. Was she about to call out his past?
"An old friend from my many travels," Delilah affirmed. "When I saw that I had a British student on the roster, I assumed it would be one of his pupils. Now, Sophie, how are you coming along with this spell?"
Harry relaxed his body and breathed a sigh of relief. If she knew his past, she, thankfully, didn't appear as though she wanted to discuss it now
Sophie twitched her lips, and raised her wand. She jabbed it harshly at the mouse, on the netting, and called "Silencio!" Instead of muting it, she singed it's fur and caused it to enlarge, its' squeaks rising to an earsplitting wail. Harry quickly silenced the mouse once more, before the entire class was deafened.
Delilah returned the mouse to normal size and smiled at Sophie. "I believe I did well with this pairing. Harry will be a great coach for you." She gave them a thumbs up and moved on to Cliff and Naomi.
Sophie gazed at him, beaming with excitement. Harry tried to smile, but couldn't quite pull it off. He was not keen on spending the semester, working alongside a girl that looked as though she wanted to devour him.
"How about we meet up for dinner tonight," Sophie suggested. "You could show me proper wand technique."
"Sorry, I have plans with Cliff already," Harry quickly made up, shoving his things into his satchel. He placed the lid back on box of the mice and sent it flying to the desk, in the front of the room. "We'll work on it more Thursday." 'With witnesses' Harry silently added.
Delilah dismissed them and Harry pushed Cliff hastily out the door.
"We're grabbing dinner tonight, somewhere off campus," Harry hissed, putting as much distance between him and Sophie. "I don't care where we go, I'll pay."
"Burritos it is, my man," Cliff declared, clapping his hands together.
After that, it seemed like Sophie was around every corner, waiting to pounce on Harry. She sat next to him in every class, casually brushing his arm with hers. Every now and then she got brazen enough to grab his knee. By the end of their second Concealment and Disguise class, Harry was practically sitting on Cliff's lap, in attempt to avoid her advances.
"I don't know what to do about her!" Harry cried out, walking with Cliff to the Defense Against the Dark Arts building, on Friday afternoon. Harry had just excused himself early, from lunch, as Sophie had sat down at their table, licking a popsicle and not breaking her gaze from Harry.
"She's persistent, you have to give her that," Cliff tried to comfort.
"It's been only one week and I already don't want to give her the time of day." Harry looked at his watch and saw it was only quarter 'til one. "Speaking of which, I'm going to detour to the library and write a letter to Ginny quick. I haven't gotten to write her all week and she's written me twice. Can you try and claim me a seat at the end of the row?"
"Consider it done, Potts!" Cliff declared, using the nickname he had bestowed upon Harry. "Godspeed, good sir." And he departed with a salute.
Harry jogged to the library, looking over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure he wasn't be followed. It had been a while since he sought refuge in a library. He smiled, sadly, thinking about how he would give anything to find Hermione among the shelves, ready with the perfect advice to get him out of this situation.
Finding a deserted table, in the back corner, Harry dug through his bag till he found some parchment and a quill in his bag. He had come to see the convenience of pen and paper, but still preferred the feeling of a quill scratching against thick parchment.
He wrestled with what he should include in this letter. Leave Sophie out and save Ginny the worry, or mention his dilemma and cause him to worry about how Ginny would handle it?
"We're adults, in an adult relationship. She deserves to know," Harry reassured himself. He took a deep breath and began his letter.
He started out light, asking how classes were going and when her first Quidditch practice would be. Sophie didn't get mentioned until halfway through, when he was describing his other classmates. He told her about his unfortunate partnering and how he was trying to throw off her stalking attempts. When he had finally finished, he mentally crossed his fingers that Ginny wouldn't overreact about it all.
Checking the time, Harry figured that if he ran, he could make it back to his room, send Athena off, and still make it to Defense class in time. He was just coming out of his room, about to bolt down the stairs, when he ran head first into someone. As Harry worked to steady himself, and the other person, he caught a glimpse of blonde hair and jumped back.
"Everything okay, Harry?" Alana asked, grabbing his arm before he toppled backwards.
"Oh, thank Merlin!" Harry gasped. "Sorry about the collision there, Alana."
"You thought I was Sophie, didn't you?" Alana inquired.
"I saw the blonde hair and it set me on high alert," Harry admitted. "I'm very glad it's you though. Heading to class?"
"Yeah, I'll be your bodyguard," Alana said, with a wink.
Harry laughed and fell into step with his classmate. The thought of petite and quiet Alana, taking on Sophie, would be quite the scene. It conjured the memory of Hermione throwing a right hook at Draco Malfoy. The quiet ones always surprised you.
True to his word, Cliff had saved Harry an end seat. Unfortunately, Sophie claimed the seat directly behind him, before Alana had a chance to slip in. The sudden feeling of fingers in his hair, made Harry cringe and pull himself as far into the desk as possible, without cutting off his oxygen.
"You're hair is as soft as I imagined it would be," Sophie whispered, leaning over her table to Harry's ear.
"Sit down, Miss Miller," a voice barked, sending Sophie quickly back into her chair.
Sergeant Roy Richmond had entered the room and took immediate control. Coming in at just over six foot tall, the Sergeant kept his salt and pepper hair in the high and tight military style and was outfitted in all black, from his combat boots to the aviators resting on his head. Even though he was a wizard, Roy Richmond had served in the United States Army for fifteen years, before retiring to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. He referred to the class as his platoon and did not take it lightly when his soldiers broke rank. The very first class, the Sergeant made it very clear that at one-thirty the classroom door would be locked, and no one would enter or exit, for less than loss of blood or consciousness, until exactly 1600 hours.
"Today, I want to start discussing Patronuses," Sergeant Richmond announced. He placed his sunglasses and briefcase on the desk. "The Patronus Charm is a difficult spell, but an important one for an Auror to master. Can anyone tell me the two forms a patronus can take?"
Harry looked around the room and noticed blanks stares on the others' faces. Slowly, he raised his hand.
"Go ahead, Potter," Sergeant acknowledged.
"It can be either non-corporeal, which simply looks like wisps of smoke," Harry started. "Or it can be corporeal, which means it will take the form of an animal, unique to the witch or wizard conjuring it."
"Excellent and concise," the Sergeant boomed. "Our goal is that by the end of this year, each one of you will be able to produce a non-corporeal patronus. By the end of your third year, it will be mandatory for everyone to produce a corporeal patronus. Who can tell me why this spell is so crucial?"
Again, the other students were mum. Harry half raised his hand.
"Potter," the Sergeant urged.
"It's the only defense against a Dementor."
"Yes, and also Lethifolds," the Sergeant affirmed. "But you only need to worry about those should you find yourself in the tropics. Mr. Potter, can I ask why you might be the only one here that knows this information?"
Harry felt the color leave his face. He had been so worried about someone else discovering his past, when all along he was going to be the one to blow his own cover. In the first week, no less.
Harry attempted to be as vague, yet honest, as he could. "We, umm…we had Dementors guarding our prison, Azkaban, back in England. At one point, a high profile prisoner escaped and the government sent Dementors out to patrol the streets and guard the school. I seemed to be particularly sensitive to them, so an old family friend coached me on the spell."
Sergeant Richmond stayed quiet for a moment, appraising Harry and his answer.
"So then you have experience with the charm?"
"Yes, sir," Harry said, slowly.
"Would you care to indulge me, and the rest of our squadron, in a demonstration?" the Sergeant grilled.
Harry nodded and reluctantly stood, drawing his wand. Closing his eyes, he thought of snogging Ginny in the dance club. A grin spread across his face and, as his wand drew circles in the air, Harry bellowed, "Expecto Patronum!"
He opened his eyes just as the silver stag burst from his wand. With a quick flick, he sent it cantering around the room. A few students stared, wide eyed and unblinking, at Harry. The rest oohed and ahhed as the stag continued to circle around the desks. On it's fourth lap, Harry waved his wand and the animal faded away.
"Most impressive, Potter," the Sergeant complimented. "I don't think I've ever had a student pull of that spell in the first week. When did you learn that?"
"Err, my third year," Harry muttered, shrinking back into his chair. He really was shooting himself in the foot with this whole not wanting to be the center of attention task.
It appeared as though Sergeant Richmond caught Harry's withdrawal and didn't press him to supply anymore answers. The rest of the lesson was devoted to the nature of Dementors and Lethifolds, and where they were most likely to be encountered. As the clock ticked over to four o'clock, the sound of the door unlocking cued the shuffling of papers and scraping of chairs.
"Potter, could I have a word?" Sergeant Richmond called, before Harry could reach the door. Harry sent Cliff and Alana ahead, and trudged back to the Sergeant's desk. Using his pen, the Sergeant moved Harry's fringe to the side and stared, impassively, at the lightning bolt scar. "Just as I thought."
Harry stood frozen. Just when he thought he was out of the woods, it seemed as though he had, indeed, let the cat out of the bag.
"Don't worry son, I'm not about to go sharing confidential information," the Sergeant assured. "But yes, I know who you are. Not many are going to recognize your name, but, being in the military, I was privy to international information and we were keeping a pretty close eye on the Dark Lord's affairs."
"When I saw Harry Potter, on my roster, I thought maybe it was just a coincidence that I got a student with the same name," the Sergeant continued, latching up his briefcase. "But after that impressive display earlier, it confirmed my suspicions. You're a talented kid, with more courage than some of my most decorated soldiers. You'll go far in this field, Harry."
Sergeant Richmond held out his hand and Harry quickly shook it. With a curt nod, the Sergeant turned and strode out of the room. Harry waited until the clomp of his boots faded, before exiting himself. Outside, he found Cliff and Alana waiting for him.
"Everything okay, Potts?" Cliff called.
"Yeah, we're good," Harry replied, dismissively waving his hand toward the building. "He just wanted check in on how I'm adjusting to America. I think I need a drink," he sighed, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes.
"I've got some beer back in the dorm. Should I bring a few over and we'll have an end of the first week toast?" Cliff offered.
"Sounds brilliant," Harry said, gratefully. "Alana, you in?"
"How about I go grab a pizza or two and meet you back at your place?" she suggested.
"Pizza and beer, a girl after my own heart," Cliff laughed, kissing the top of Alana's head and making her blush.
That evening, Harry experienced his first standard American Friday night. Along with the beer, Cliff brought along a few albums from the band, The Cure. Harry quickly took to the music and made note of the albums so he could send one or two to Ginny. Alana arrive with four pizzas, and Naomi and Emma.
Never having had pizza before, Harry overindulged in half of the one topped with mushrooms and sausage. As for the American beer, he was only able to handle one before declaring that it was, in fact, NOT beer, but rather a watered down imposter.
Naomi wondered around the room, inspecting all of Harry's pictures. "You're girlfriend is adorable," she cooed, looking over the pictures next to Harry's bed. "Is this her pillow and blanket?" Naomi asked, motioning to the the pink pillow and flower quilt.
"Yeah," Harry acknowledged, flushing. "Was hoping it would help me sleep better in an empty bed."
"Aww, that's so sweet!" Alana gushed. "Does it work?"
"Not really, unfortunately. I suffer from nightmares and they've started up again since coming here," Harry frowned.
"I can help with that," Cliff piped up.
"Doubtful, but at this point I will try just about anything to get a good night's sleep," Harry conceded. "I don't think I can keep fending off Sophie when I'm only half conscious."
"Tomorrow night, before bed, come running on the beach with me," Cliff advised. "I promise, it will burn off your energy and clear your mind. After a mile or two, you'll sleep like a baby."
Harry wasn't sure how keen he was on that idea. He wasn't much of a runner. His position as seeker had been more about patience and speed on a broomstick. He had never had to focus on his physical ability, as much as the others team members had. But, as he had said, he was willing to try anything for a full night of rest.
The following night he donned a pair of old sweatpants and a t-shirt, and met Cliff on the beach. Cliff had on a pair of mesh athletic shorts and a sleeveless shirt.
"I usually run a mile north, towards Santa Monica, and then a mile back. You up for it Potts?" Cliff challenged, stretching his legs.
"Let's give it a shot," Harry yielded. "If I die, don't send me home in these sweatpants."
"You got it. Let's roll out!" Cliff waved Harry on as he started off, at a jogging pace.
Harry surprised himself by keeping up for the first half mile. Gradually Cliff increased his speed and by the one mile mark, Harry was doubled over with a stitch in his side. Cliff slowed to a stop and jogged in place while Harry gulped the salty air, trying to catch his breath.
"Just let me know when you're ready to trek back," Cliff puffed.
Harry was bent over, hands on his knees. He was finally able to slow his breathing and suppress the urge to vomit. Slowly, he eased himself back up and pointed south, stumbling the first few steps across the sand. Cliff followed Harry's signal and set off at a leisurely pace, allowing Harry to work back up to a run.
When the pair finally returned to the Venice sands, Harry dropped to the ground and let a few cold waves crash over his exhausted body.
"Alright Potts! That was excellent!" Cliff exclaimed. Harry shot him a wary stare and Cliff chuckled. "For your first time, you kept up well. It gets easier, I promise.
Harry staggered to his feet and willed himself to put one foot in front of the other, as they walked back to the dormitory. When they approached the stairs, Harry almost cried.
"I think I'll sleep in the laundry room tonight," Harry groaned.
"Onward and upward!" Cliff whooped, nudging Harry's back.
Every muscle in his body screamed no, but Harry persevered up one flight of stairs, and then the next. By the time his soggy feet landed on the fifth floor, his urge to vomit had come roaring back with a vengeance. He could barely pull his key from his pocket and hold it steady.
"Same time tomorrow night?" Cliff offered.
"If I make it through the night," Harry grunted.
Once in the door, Harry stripped off his soaked clothing and hurled them into the bathroom. He all but crawled across the floor, as he made his way to the bed. He fell asleep, cursing Cliff's "brilliant" idea. But, Merlin be damned, he slept the entire night, without one nightmare tormenting his mind.