Chapter Ten

The Other Letter

Unbeknownst to either party, Max Cross and Matt Potter were writing their letters on the same night. Matt Potter, however, didn't send his for a few days. He spent those few days wavering back and forth about whether or not he ought to send it. Finally, he took it up to the Owlery and selected a nice, sturdy barn owl who could survive the inclement weather on the trip to London. He tied the letter to its leg, and wished it a safe flight as it flapped its wings and disappeared.

He went back down to the Great Hall for dinner, holding onto his scarf tightly as the wind threatened to snatch it away. It was getting so cold this year, and he didn't envy the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, out here practicing. With Barry Knowles not playing for the conceivable future, they'd had to replace him, and Creyton just wasn't as good, let alone familiar with the team's dynamics. The Hufflepuff team had already given up on the season. Without their Seeker, they were pretty much doomed. Nobody could fill Quentin's shoes. They'd put Algie McDougal back in as Chaser and had Charity Pritchard playing Seeker, but it wasn't the same at all. Matt fretted about his own house's team, then felt guilty. What was he like, thinking of the team before the students? Nobody understood what was happening, any of them could be next, and there Barry and Quentin lay in the hospital without much hope. The truth was, Matt had spent so much time worrying about it that worrying only about Quidditch was a relief.

He joined Bear at the table, and Basil came over to sit with them. Matt was absentminded, going over some notes with Basil, and reaching for his plate without looking. He ate through what was on his plate without realizing it, and reached out just as Bear was placing a buttered dinner roll on it. He looked up and didn't know how many rolls he'd eaten. He scowled at her.

"What? You haven't been eating enough," she scolded. "You act just like your dad, I swear."

Basil rolled his eyes sympathetically, but seemed to be in agreement with her, because he picked up his own half-eaten roll and munched on it with his attention on the notes they were studying. Matt sighed dramatically and accepted more food. He honestly didn't remember if he'd eaten breakfast, and he was still hungry. Bear had no right to be watching him like that, he thought to himself resentfully. But his eyes went to the staff table. Dad was sitting there with Professors Malfoy and Kilburne, and they were all three mumbling to themselves a lot and pushing food around their plates without eating it. They were probably talking about Quentin and Barry again. They did that a lot, even though they never got anywhere with it.

"Where did you go, Matt?"

"Huh?"

He and Bear were walking back to the Gryffindor common room, even though he didn't remember saying goodbye to Basil or anything. He did feel full, though, so Bear must have kept feeding him. He was alarmed. He was having a hard time paying attention to himself lately, and it was dangerous for any wizard to walk around in such a state. Especially since he'd discovered last term, during his kidnapping, how powerful a wizard he might be.

Bear rolled her eyes. "Before dinner. After classes. Where were you?"

"Sending a letter," he said without thinking.

"Oh. To who?"

Matt forced himself not to snap at her. He simply ignored the question.

"Matt, what's going on? You've been acting really weird lately."

He looked at Bear, really looked at her, and saw that she was worried and sad. Had he really been behaving so strangely? How long had he been acting so absentminded? "What do you mean?" he asked cautiously.

"You've been so quiet, and you always want to be alone. You study so hard, and you're doing really well in your classes, but . . . it's like it doesn't really matter to you. Like nothing really matters right now. Sometimes it's like you're not really there."

Matt sighed. "It feels like that, a little."

There was obvious concern in her eyes, but she returned to her question. "Who were you writing to, then?"

"My— my mum."

There were tears in his eyes, and he cursed himself for letting Bear see it. He hated to cry, especially in front of people, especially in front of his friends. But Bear didn't seem bothered by it, not at all.

"What did you say?"

"I told her that we miss her. All of us, me and Charley and Crash . . . and Dad. My dad is so sad, Bear, I don't know what to do. He needs Mum back." Then he was crying, really crying, and Bear was holding him, an she was as tall as he was, and his head was on her shoulder. "I'm sorry," he muttered, trying to control himself.

"No, it's okay, we're alone."

Bear had directed them into a deserted corridor on purpose, while Matt was gazing off into space and just following her without thinking. Matt's tears were renewed by realizing how much she cared about him and how thoughtful she could be when she needed to. He hated this, hated the way things were . . . What was wrong with him?

"Bear?" he asked, his voice muffled in her shoulder.

"What?" she replied, her voice right by his ear.

"What would you do if your mother left? If she made your father so sad?"

"I'd go find her and drag her back," she said, almost cheerfully. "But since your mother isn't really the type to go quietly, that's out of the question. Sending a letter sounds about right. What else did you say?"

"I just asked her to come home."

His tears started to dry up on their own after a minute, and Bear's arms were around him the whole time. She didn't much care if anyone saw. Matt was her friend, and if this was what she could do for him, then she would.

"Bear?"

"What?"

"You won't tell Basil or Milt about this, will you?"

She finally pushed him away from her, and looked at his reddened face with disgust. "Boys," she sighed, and started walking toward their common room again.

"Bear? You won't, right?"

"You're so pathetic."

"Bear!"

"Oh, fine, I promise."

---Break---

Ginny's hands trembled while she read the short letter. The owl had arrived soaking wet and tired, having flown through a remarkable downpour to reach her, and it huddled on her grate, ruffling its feathers to dry them. She wished Charlie had stayed longer, now. She wished her brother were here to hold her. A few days of good meals and constant love and friendship had made a world of difference to her, but she could feel the happiness she'd gained draining back out of her.

Oh, Matt . . .

He had to be exaggerating. Had Harry put him up to this? Harry couldn't possibly be that miserable and lonely, or there'd be an article in Wandwork about it; Ginny suspected Rosemary had somehow gotten information from inside the school. And Crash and Charley were doing fine without her, or Harry would have said something to her about them. Last time he'd come to pick them up from their grandparents, he'd said they'd adjusted. Said Charley loved playing with a couple of girls at Hogwarts and that Crash loved to visit Matt in his dormitory. They were supposed to be happy without her.

But Matt's letter said they weren't. Matt's letter said they were all depressed, and that they missed Grimmauld Place and having her with them. Ginny set the letter down very carefully, like she might break it if she didn't treat it with caution. If Harry had told Matt to write this, thinking that Matt would have an easier time softening her up than he would . . . well, that was just more of the same, wasn't it? Still he wouldn't communicate with her. She was waiting, waiting every day for Harry to say it. For Harry to tell her that they missed her and wanted her back. He hadn't said that to her once since they'd moved to Hogwarts. He said they were doing fine. So i must be that things were working out the way she'd intended them to. Of course, Charlie thought her intentions were totally and completely wrong, but if things were playing out that way. . .

She curled up in her chair, and picked up her copy of The Quibbler. That, at least, chased the doubts away. It was working. It was working so well. The sane people out there, the rational ones, were voicing their opinions. She could salvage Harry's reputation for him. He wouldn't have to feel alone and outnumbered again, like he used to. He would know they stood behind him.

She looked at the scribbled-on piece of parchment sitting on the table. She'd written several drafts of The Harpy's second letter to Luna. Did Harry know, as she hoped he did? There were miles apart, in more ways than one, and maybe they'd never be able to bridge that distance, but here at least was her effort to say that he was still a good man, an admirable man. Did he realize that she was standing behind him, too?