Chapter 14

Allen thought about what Hermione had said at breakfast as he went down to the pitch. Hagrid was already there, and, after exchanging hellos and the day's plans, they went straight to work. They didn't talk much as the morning wore on, for which Allen was glad. He was too busy thinking.

After lunch, while Allen was on the ground cutting boards, Hagrid asked him, "So, after we're done here, what are ya plannin' ta do?"

Allen shrugged, straightening up to talk. "Well, I was going to visit a old village parish south of here, see some old friends. After that..." Allen shrugged, a bit stiffly. "Hadn't given it much thought after that."

"Who's at the parish?"

Allen smiled. "An old priest and his wife. They were friends of my master, and helped take care of me after my father died. They have some of his old things. I wanted to see them, and pick some stuff up while I was there."

"What did your father do?"

Perhaps it was because Hagrid was easy to talk to, because Allen found himself replying, "He was a traveling clown. We met when he joined the circus I was working at, and after that ended we both traveled, doing street performances."

Hagrid nodded, eyes sparking with interest. "Can ya still do any tricks?"

Allen grinned. "I'll show you."

He set down the nails, holding onto the hammer and grabbing his water bottle and empty thermos from lunch. He started to juggle, and Hagrid smiled, his eyes squinting together into merry black points. Allen finished the show with high spins, catching the three objects one after another, and bowed with special flourish.

Hagrid laughed, a great booming sound, and clapped appreciatively. "Wha' else can you do?"

Allen set the stuff down. "Acrobatics, balancing acts, being goofy, all the clown things," he said. Cheat at cards, give thugs the slip, kill Akuma, run away...

"Ya know," Hagrid said thoughtfully, "ya might be able to get some money down in the village, doing tricks like that."

Allen snorted. "I wouldn't think wizards would appreciate the show."

"Aye, maybe," Hagrid replied, "but ya might be surprised. Wizards are folk too, and all folk appreciate a show. 'sides, you need some money ta get ya started."

"But wizard money's no good anywhere else."

"Ya can exchange it," Hagrid said. "Wizard bank Gringotts, in London. If ya can find Hogwarts, ya can find the bank. Get some Muggle money and have a decent start, at least fer a while."

Allen stared at Hagrid thoughtfully. "You think I could?"

"Well, folk'll assume yer a wizard, right?" Hagrid chuckled. "Or a Squib, if ya got ta prove it. It can't hurt."

Allen continued to stare at Hagrid, and then shook his head, shaking a thought away. "I'll think about it," he said finally.

"You do tha'," Hagrid said, "and in the meantime, we got ta finish replacin' this wall."

Later, they were taking a break, hiding from the wind and cold in the team locker rooms. Hagrid had brought over a kettle, tea leaves and snacks, and they were enjoying a hot cup, having reached a good stopping point for the day. They had been enjoying a pleasant silence, but Allen had noticed that for a while now Hagrid had been studying him. When he couldn't take it anymore, he smiled and said, "Penny for your thoughts, Hagrid."

"Hmm," Hagrid replied. "I was jus' wonderin' something. You've been able to walk fer a while now, and ya said yer ready to leave. But ya haven't."

Allen laughed, but it was forced, an uncomfortable feeling forming in his gut. "I broke the stands," he said, trying to make his voice cheerful. "Dumbledore told me to fix them. It's only fair."

"Yeah, but before tha', you were ready ta go. Maybe not in the best shape, but eager, from wha' I heard."

Allen took a sip of tea to give himself a moment to think. "What have you heard, Hagrid?" he asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Hagrid glanced down at his own tea, looking uncomfortable. "Things. About you lookin' fer something."

Allen sighed. "Can no one around here keep a secret?"

Hagrid chuckled; that was answer enough. "I'm jus' wonderin' why ya decided to stop lookin', that's all. It's what ya came here fer, right?"

Allen sighed. "Coming here was an accident," he said, more grimly than he meant to sound. "I didn't mean to stay."

"But ya accepted Dumbledore's offer, didn't ya? Why'd ya change yer mind?"

Allen didn't answer, holding his tea cup with both hands. Finally he muttered, "It's complicated."

Hagrid took a loud slurp of tea, then replied gruffly, "Allen, can I be honest wi' ya?"

He glanced at Hagrid, and nodded. "Of course."

"I think I know why yer itchin' ta go. But you've got nothing ta be afraid of, least not here. Hogwarts is safe, safest place in the world."

Allen stared at Hagrid. He knew more than what he was letting on; Allen was sure of it. Narrowing his eyes he asked, "Has Dumbledore told you why I'm here?"

Hagrid looked away uncomfortably. "He might'a mentioned one or two things." Allen sighed heavily, yet he wasn't surprised. Hagrid went on. "If yer really here ta figure out how to break a curse on ya, ya should be spending time on that. And it won't do ya no good to push Hermione away, if she's there ta help. She's brilliant, Hermione is. And kind, if ya give her a chance."

Allen frowned. "She's only there because Dumbledore told her to be. She doesn't want to help, she cares about her professor's approval."

"Then ya don't know Hermione at all," Hagrid replied sternly.

He didn't know what to say to that. They were silent for several moments, until Hagrid continued, "Ya shouldn't be wasting yer time down here. Ya should be in the school, figurin' out yer curse."

"I know what my curse is," Allen said, his voice harder than he meant. "I just..." But the words trailed off; he didn't even know what he was trying to say anymore.

"Just wha'?"

Allen glared at the ground. "You're right, I shouldn't have stayed here. I should've left as soon as I woke up."

"So why didn't ya?"

He opened his mouth to answer, but the words died as he was made to think about it.

He knew he was safe here. He knew as soon as he left that he'd be spending his days running from Akuma, the Noah, Apocryphos... Because he'd eaten a meal with a kind soul who'd looked past the scar and the arm and talked about her father and her summer. Because...

He could list reasons all day, but the truth was he was afraid to leave. It would mean more running, more hiding. And he was afraid to stay, in case his past ended up hurting the people here. He couldn't stand the idea of people being hurt just because he was around.

His motto might have been "keep moving forward," but all he'd done lately was run away. And he was afraid to stop.

Allen sighed, his head throbbing. This was why he didn't like thinking too deeply about things; it was less depressing that way.

Hagrid watched Allen, but had remained silent, pouring himself another cup of tea. He broke Allen's thoughts when he said, "'Nother cup?"

Allen's head jumped up, coming back to the present, and nodded, holding his cup out. Steaming tea filled it and he wrapped his hands around the cup, enjoying the warmth.

The silence stretched onward, and the conversation ended without another word.

xox

"50...51...52..."

Weak grey light was crawling through sleet-streaked glass. The flickering light of a single candle threw wavering shadows across the floor, and Allen stared at the dimly lit carpet, sweat dripping from his forehead. He counted softly, the numbers gasping out with soft breaths until the dawn light filled the room with a soft grey-blue dimness.

"100." Allen picked himself up from the ground, stretched, and got started on the other arm. Curling his hand back into a fist, he pulled his arm behind until the fist rested in the middle of his back, and he was balanced on one arm, legs spread apart.

"1...2..."

When he was finished, the light in the room was brighter and the mantelpiece clock above the fireplace chimed seven A.M.

He'd been up for three hours.

This morning, when he'd first been frightened awake, he'd looked down at his skin and seen grey. It was happening more often now. Now that he was out of danger, Madame Pomfrey had stopped giving him Dreamless Draught. She "wouldn't be responsible for a developing addiction," her words; this was the third morning he'd been woken by nightmares. He'd begun working out almost immediately, shoving it to the back of his mind for the sake of a rep count. Exercise cleared his head. He needed to spar with someone, he realized; it cleared his head, gave him purpose. Fighting always had.

He snorted softly; the idea of a friendly match with anyone at Hogwarts was laughable.

Glancing out the window, Allen watched the rain streak the glass, and walked over, pressing his palm against the window. It was cold. His eyes caught the Fourteenth's shadow behind his shoulder with barely a second thought; he was too used to it.

Something nudged him in the back of the head; rolling his head back, he stared at Timcanpy upside-down. "Guess we're stuck inside today," he said softly. Tim chirped.

Rolling his head back forward, he turned away from the rain and glanced around the room. The sheets of the bed were in disarray, twisted about, the comforter lying on the ground. At the foot of the bed was the bag he had bought in Hogsmeade, just after he arrived, that held all of his worldly possessions: spare clothes; the book Hagrid had given him; a copy of the Quibbler which Luna had given him, for when he needed something incredible to look at; and what little was left of the money he'd stolen when he had first arrived in Hogsmeade.

"We need to leave," he said softly to the room. He was glad when no one answered back.

After a shower Allen went down to breakfast, but as he reached the doors of the Great Hall he saw Hermione waiting outside. She was holding a sheet of paper, and waved him over.

"This arrived this morning," she said, handing him the crumpled page.

Unfolding it, Allen read, "Due to an emergency requiring the groundskeeper's immediate attention, Allen Walker will accompany you to classes for the day." It wasn't signed.

Allen balled the paper in his fist, before glancing up to meet Hermione's eye. Forcing a smile he said, "Guess we're stuck together today, huh?"

Hermione nodded, checking her watch. "We should get hurry if we don't want to be late."

"I haven't had any breakfast."

"We can eat on the way."

Allen stared at her in horror. "You would keep me from food?" Shaking his head, he added, "Hermione, I thought you were one of the good guys." Still looking struck, he turned and walked on inside the Hall.

She stared after him incredulously before following.

Allen took his usual seat at the end of the Ravenclaw table, pulling muffins and eggs toward him. Hermione hovered behind, looking impatient.

"I was kidding about the good guys thing," Allen said dryly, speaking around his buttered toast and preparing another slice with jam. "Take a seat."

When she didn't immediately sit, Allen sighed and turned partway from the table. "Hermione, we have time. What are you so anxious for?"

She shuffled her feet and then said, "I wanted to talk to my professor before class."

Oh. "Well, when does your class start?"

"In about a half hour."

He was tempted to be mean and make her wait; instead he grabbed a plate, stacking onto it several pieces of toast, eggs, sausage, and tomatoes, balancing his bowl of oatmeal on top and taking a jar of jam to stuff into his pockets. Hermione stared at the small pile and Allen said blandly, "Ready when you are."

Since it was still early, they had plenty of space as they walked to Hermione's first class. Allen ate cheerfully, Timcanpy flying nearby. Hermione glanced back at him several times, watching curiously as Allen fed the golem a slice of toast and ate quickly and neatly through his breakfast. He was done sooner than she expected and hadn't let a crumb fall on either the floor or his clothes. They didn't speak; without Hagrid or Luna there to ease the way, they both felt unsure what to say to the other.

The Ancient Runes classroom was on the fourth floor, in a secluded corridor Allen hadn't ventured down. It was a typical classroom, and Professor Sinestra was working at her desk when Hermione and Allen entered. She looked up from her work, glancing at Allen critically for a moment before turning her attention to Hermione. "Miss Granger, you're early."

"Yes, professor," Hermione said, "I was wondering if you had a minute? I had some questions about last night's assignment..."

"Ah, of course," the professor replied, not sounding surprised. "And, uh, Mr. Walker, I've been informed of your joining us today, so if you could take a seat over here," she added, gesturing toward a spare desk in a relatively isolated, out-of-the-way part of the classroom.

Having nothing better to do, Allen walked over and sat down, tuning out Hermione and the professor's chatter, staring at the ceiling and Timcanpy making loop-de-loops in the air.

Over the next few minutes students began filing in, glancing curiously at Allen as they took their seats. Allen looked over at Hermione, the only familiar face, as she and Sinestra concluded their conversation. The professor enchanted a piece of chalk to write notes on a blackboard, strange symbols mixing with small cursive script. Sinestra called the class to order and began to lecture.

Allen's mind drifted, glancing out the window to look at the overcast gray sky and sleet as it slapped the glass panes, while the students scratched notes on parchment paper around him. He ignored the leering smile of Neah in the reflection of the glass, absentmindedly rubbing his arm.

He must have fallen asleep at some point because the bell rang suddenly, startling him awake. Students were coming to their feet, talking as they left for class changes. Hermione came over to Allen and he got to his feet, following her to her next class—a double period of Defense Against the Dark Arts, she informed him.

There were not spare seats in this classroom, and so Allen took a seat next to Hermione, looking at the winged horse skeleton above his head curiously. She sat near the front of the room, and Allen could feel the glances on the back of his head, the whispers creeping in his ears, as students filled the room.

Timcanpy, who'd spent the better part of the morning hiding in his coat collar, peaked out and nuzzled into Allen's hair. He reached up and patted the golem reassuringly, comforting the both of them.

Just before the bell rang Harry and Ron walked inside, and while Ron continued on to his seat without glancing in Hermione's direction, Harry walked over to their table. "Hey," he said to the both of them.

"Hi," Hermione replied. "What is it, Harry?"

"I've got another meeting with Dumbledore tonight," he said. "Who's on prefect duty?"

Hermione racked her memory for a moment before she said, "Macmillan. You should be fine."

"Good," Harry replied. He glanced at Allen. In a strange gesture of polite goodwill he asked, "You...er, doing okay, Allen?"

"Fine," he said, shrugging noncommittally. "Took a nap last class."

Harry grinned appreciatively, while Hermione rolled her eyes. "Aritchmancy is fascinating," she said, a bit defensively.

"Looked like a lot of unnecessary symbols to me," Allen replied dryly, to which Harry smiled.

"Well, honestly, if you wanted to know what it was all about," Hermione began.

The hubbub in the classroom died down suddenly, and Allen turned his attention to the front of the room, where a familiar man with greasy black hair and a dour expression stood, looking down his long nose at the students. His eyes roamed around the class before fixing a cool glare on Harry. "Sit down, Potter," he hissed, and Harry managed a quick glance of irritation at Hermione and Allen before returning to his seat.

"Quiet," Snape said softly, but he needn't have bothered; the room was silent as the grave. "I recall that in your fourth year, you were introduced to the Unforgivable Curses," Snape began without preamble. "Can anyone name them?"

Hermione's hand rose beside Allen. Glancing around he saw a few other hands, and Snape nodded toward a boy in a green tie and the boy put his hand down.

"The Imperius, the Cruciatus, and the Killing Curse," he said. Snape nodded.

"Good. Five points to Slytherin."

Hermione had lowered her hand and Snape began walking around the room, every eye following him silently.

"It is common knowledge that, with one exception, the Killing Curse cannot be blocked, and the Torture Curse is difficult to counter." Allen's insides chilled; torture curse? He listened on. "However, it is possible for a witch or wizard to combat the Imperius, given they have the will of mind and the knowledge." Snape paused to glance around the room before sneering, "Though most of you I doubt have either."

Allen frowned; no one moved, but some students glanced at one another, mixed expressions on their faces. He was wondering when Snape would remind the class what the Imperius curse was; he certainly wanted to know.

"Can anyone tell me one way a wizard can combat the Imperius?" Snape asked softly. Hermione's hand rose; she was the only one, but Snape didn't immediately call on her, eyes moving past as if he hadn't seen it. Several silent moments passed and no one else moved, so Snape finally conceded with a cool, "Miss Granger?"

"Sir, a wizard with the knowledge of Occlumency can shield his or her mind from attack, and—"

"Thank you Miss Granger," Snape cut in, and Hermione shut her mouth reluctantly. Looking away from her he said, "Occlumency is the art of shielding one's mind from probing invaders, a method the Dark Lord is supremely gifted in and which few wizards or witches have the capacity to truly master. The ability to probe the thoughts of another is called Legilimency. It takes a certain spirit and strength of will to become a gifted Legilimens or Occlumens." His mouth curled in a cruel smile as he glanced around the room; Allen's frown deepened.

"Tell me, what is the advantage to performing Legilimency on an opponent?" There was some hesitation, but Snape plowed on regardless. "If you find your opponent's weakness, break them down from inside, than there is very little left to do to defeat them." Allen shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Anyone else have any ideas?"

A hand went up and Snape gestured. "Yes, Zabini."

"You get information from them," the boy called Zabini said, with a certain affected ease. "In case they have something you want to know but they won't tell."

"Correct," Snape said. His turn around the room had ended; he was now standing at the front of the class again, and his eyes, which had been roaming, rested on Allen. He caught Hermione glancing nervously at him in the corner of his eye, but didn't remove his stare from Snape, meeting the teacher's gaze without blinking.

Snape was quiet for another moment, before turning and walking off. Allen heard Hermione exhale softly in relief.

"Turn in your texts to page 251, the section on Occlumency. Read, quietly. In twenty minutes I will check to see whether you have done the reading and actually absorbed it."

Allen glanced back at Hermione, using the sounds of books being opened and soft whispers to softly ask, "Is he always like this?"

She nodded, glancing back toward Snape before replying quietly, "He's been worse. For a moment I thought he might..." She glanced behind her shoulder and whispered, "He's coming back."

Allen could feel the tension in the room oozing into him, making him twitchy. Except for the rustling of pages, no one spoke or moved. The darkness of the room added to the overall oppressive atmosphere, and Snape's hovering only made Allen feel caged.

A slight headache was building at his temple, and he rubbed his head absently, trying to massage it away. He wiggled in his seat, needing to move around, needing desperately to leave the classroom.

The longer he sat here the more uncomfortable he got.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Walker?"

He glanced up sharply. Snape stood over the desk, hands clasped together as he stared down his nose at Allen. "No, sir," Allen said, resisting the urge to massage his temple. He hadn't heard Snape approach; it was entirely too creepy. And the man's presence seemed to make his headache worse.

"Then sit still."

Allen clutched his hands around his knees to stop them from jiggling, and after several silent moments Snape finally walked off. The headache seemed to lessen some.

Hermione hadn't been reading, discreetly watching the exchange. Allen was being antsy, and in spite of her unsure feelings on the boy, she pitied him. After days spent outside, being stuck in a classroom, especially with Snape, must have been awful. But Snape had that effect on people.

She'd finished reading the chapter a while ago, and making sure Snape was far away, bent over and whispered, "Allen? Are you okay?"

He glanced at her and she saw he was rubbing at his temple in slow circles, his right leg bobbing up and down in restless motion. "When does this class end?" he asked, just as quietly.

"Not for another hour and a half."

He groaned softly, glancing toward Snape before muttering out the corner of his mouth, "Hermione, can people do magic without others noticing?"

She nodded. "Spells can be performed non-verbally, yes. Why?"

"I think Snape's doing something," Allen said, sounding very sure.

Hermione glanced at Snape, who was busy hovering over Harry's shoulder. "Like what?" she replied, looking back at Allen.

"I don't know," he replied. "But my head is killing me and it gets worse when he gets close."

"You should come up with a reason to leave," she said softly. She glanced at Snape, who was walking around the room. He was far enough away from them. "Stomachache, or something."

"Is it for real? Occlumans or whatever?" Allen whispered. "You can actually read people's minds?"

"It's not mind-reading," she said softly, "but you don't want Snape in your head. Last year Harry..." she stopped and glanced over her shoulder again. Continuing in a hurried whisper she said, "Last year Harry had to do lessons with Snape on Occlumency, and they went badly. I did some reading on it, though, and if you can't get out of it, you can fight back."

"How?" Allen hissed. "I can't do magic-"

"The link works both ways," she said, but went no further, because Snape sneered, "Care to share with the class, Miss Granger?"

Allen and Hermione started and snapped their heads up. Snape was hovering, a dangerously calm expression on his face. "Perhaps you would like to share what you and Walker were discussing."

"Uh..." Hermione said, and Allen spoke up then.

"I'm not feeling well," he said, grabbing at his stomach for effect.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?" he said softly.

"Allen's not feeling well," Hermione cut in. Snape turned his head just slightly to stare at her. "Can I take him to see Madame Pomfrey?"

Snape seemed to consider saying no, but finally: "Very well. Drop him off and return immediately. Do you understand?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir," she said, shutting her textbook and leaving her bag. Allen stood up a bit too quickly and they walked out, feeling Snape's sharp gaze on their backs even as they shut the door behind them.

When they left the corridor Allen stopped and slumped against a wall, breathing a heavy sigh of relief.

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked.

"Better," he said, but didn't move from the wall. "Just give me a minute." His hand rested on his temple, but he was no longer rubbing it.

Hermione frowned, concern knotting her brow as she bit her lip uncertainly. "Allen, are you sure you shouldn't actually go see Madame Pomfrey?"

"No, I'm fine," he said, but just a bit too quickly. He seemed to realize that, because he looked up and smiled at her. "I just needed to leave the room, that's all."

"Is your headache gone?"

He nodded. "It's better, at least." He straightened up, getting off the wall. "I'll be fine, Hermione. Go back."

She frowned at him. "Do you think he was using Occlumency on you?" she said, very seriously.

"I don't know. I just felt this pain in my head, and it was like that the last time I met him."

"When was that?"

"Just when I got out of the hospital," Allen replied. "I ran into some ferret-faced kid and we had a disagreement. Snape showed up and stopped it before it got serious."

She considered Allen thoughtfully. "Ferret face?"

"Yeah."

She smiled slightly. "Blond hair? Holier-than-thou attitude?"

He nodded. "That's the one. Know him?"

She snorted. "Oh, do I. That's Malfoy. Harry, Ron and I have been enemies of his since we all first came to Hogwarts. He's all talk, though," she added. "And Snape's favorite. No wonder he intervened." She glanced around, making sure the corridor was empty. "Can I tell you something?" she asked softly.

"Uh, sure," Allen replied.

"Our fourth year, our old Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Moody, turned Malfoy into a ferret," she said conspiratorially. "He shouldn't have, it's against school rules and it was highly inappropriate—" and then she grinned widely, "but secretly, I was really pleased. He deserved it."

Allen grinned. "No wonder he looked like he wanted to hit me."

Hermione laughed in a loud burst, covering her mouth immediately to quiet the sound, but she met Allen's eye and they were both grinning, Allen chuckling as Hermione tried to quiet her laughter. She calmed down after a minute, and still smiling said, "I shouldn't be so mean, but he's terrible. What an awful wizard to meet just when you were getting better."

"Well, beats my first introduction. I didn't even get a name before I got cursed," he said glibly. "Just my usual luck," he added in afterthought.

Hermione's mirth dimmed, but not much. "I've been wondering about that," she said. "How did you get better so quickly?"

"I don't know," he said, and he meant it. He had his suspicions, though. "I had some bad dreams, but after a while I woke up. Madame Pomfrey took care of the rest." He then remembered the other girl. "How is the girl that got cursed with me? Is she better?"

Hermione shook her head. "Haven't heard much. Katie's still at St. Mungo's. That's the wizarding hospital in London," she added.

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

Some moments passed where Allen wasn't sure what to say; Hermione didn't either, and they stood in a kind of not-quite-awkward silence, until Hermione said, "So should we go to the hospital wing or not? Snape will get suspicious if I'm gone too long."

Allen shook his head. "No, I'm fine now. You should head back."

"What will you do?"

He shrugged. "Walk around, I guess."

Hermione bit her lip thoughtfully. "If you're still serious about looking for that counter-curse," she said, "maybe you should try the library. You haven't been in there in some time, have you?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, maybe."

"It wouldn't kill you to open a book," she said, somewhat exasperatedly. "You might even find something."

"You're probably right," Allen said complacently, lips spread in a small smile. "Go on, I'll be fine on my own."

Hermione just shook her head, but she was done trying to convince him. For now. "Fine. But, Allen?"

"Yeah?"

"Stay out of trouble while I'm gone, won't you?"

He chuckled. "I'll try." She turned and walked off, and Allen's smile dropped. I don't have that kind of luck, he thought.

It was after they had both gone their separate ways when the two realized they'd had their first natural conversation alone, without the aid of others to ease the way. To Hermione, it was a sign of progress. As for Allen, he wasn't sure at what point he'd decided to give Hermione a chance, but it was done. For some reason, he wasn't as scared of that as he had expected.