Author's Note: I wanted to alert all of you reading to a Trigger Warning for this chapter.The following chapter contains multiple instances of ableist language and allusions to past abuse of a person with a disability. Take care of yourselves, lovelies.
Chapter Six: BetrayalMairead awoke slowly. Light was pouring into the room and across her face. She went to push herself into a sitting position.
Okay, bad idea.
She collapsed back into the pillows in pain and took stock.
Well, first thing is, I'm alive - yay! Honestly didn't expect that one.
She looked around. She tried to crane her head up but that was also a mistake, so she settled for lolling her head over from one side to the other.
She appeared to be in the Hospital Wing, though she had no memory of how she had gotten here. Her entire body felt sore, but especially her torso, and there was a metallic taste in her mouth.
She heard someone walk in.
"Ah, you're awake!" she heard Madam Pomphrey say. The nurse shuffled into view and began gliding her wand up and down Mairead's body.
"You are lucky to be alive," Madam Pomphrey stated when she had finished.
"Aren't we all?" Mairead responded. Her voice sounded gravelly.
Madam Pomphrey gave her a look. "Some more than others," she said evenly. "Let's sit you up," the nurse reached behind her and helped Mairead struggle into a seated position. Mairead hissed in pain.
The nurse shuffled off and returned with two potions and a glass of water.
"You need another Blood-Replenishing Potion, and this other is for the pain," she said, unstoppering one and handing it to Mairead.
Mairead choked down one potion, then the other. Clearly, the Blood-Replenishing Potion was where the metallic taste had come from.
"You gave Professor Lupin quite the fright," said Madam Pomphrey reproachfully when Mairead had drained the glass of water.
"Professor Lupin was here?" Mairead asked, trying to sound like she didn't care either way.
Madam Pomphrey raised her eyebrows. "Professor Lupin saved your life. He's the one who found you and brought you here."
Mairead blinked at the nurse for a few moments. Finally she managed a quiet, "Oh."
"I'm not surprised you don't remember it; you were in quite a state," Madam Pomphrey said, then added with a sniff, "I just don't understand why Professor Dumbledore lets students wander around this castle completely unaccompanied during the best of times, let alone when there's a mass murderer on the loose."
Mairead looked up from observing the dried blood under her fingernails. "Did they catch him?" she asked eagerly.
"No, they did not. And I'm sure Dumbledore will want to talk to you about your... encounter last night," Madam Pomphrey sounded disapproving. "But he's not going to say one word to you without my say-so first. You've already been through enough."
Mairead knew from previous stays in the Hospital Wing that earning Madam Pomphrey's say-so was somewhat of an arduous process. In this case, Mairead spent the morning undergoing various tests to determine whether her blood volume had risen sufficiently, whether she had developed an infection, and whether her spleen had returned to full functionality. Mairead observed curiously and wistfully as the nurse gave her a few more potions to drink, applied salves to the faint pink scar on her side as well as to bruises on her chest - Professor Lupin had evidently cracked her sternum and broken one of her ribs while restarting her heart (which had apparently stopped? Like, a lot?) - and finally declared that Mairead would have to stay one more night for observation and skip classes on Monday, but could return to classes on Tuesday.
"All right, then, let's get you up and into the tub for a bath," said Madam Pomphrey.
"I don't take baths," Mairead reminded her firmly.
"Oh, that's right," Madam Pomphrey said, clicking her tongue and sounding annoyed. "You do have your peculiarities, don't you?"
The bathroom in the Hospital Wing did not have a shower head, so the nurse ended up giving Mairead a sponge bath instead. Mairead found this embarrassing, but far preferable to getting into a tub full of water. Just the thought was enough to set her skin prickling.
After Madam Pomphrey was finished with Mairead, she was allowed to have visitors. Ansel, Cedric, Sophie, and Edgar mercifully all came in a group, because Mairead wasn't sure how long she could sustain her energy. Ansel had told the other St. Hedwig's students not to come because she would be overwhelmed, for which she thanked him sincerely. She was also grateful that no one asked her what had happened. She was sure she would already have to tell the Headmaster and shuddered at the thought of repeating the story over and over. The kids at St. Hedwig's had enough experience with trauma to know not to ask, and Cedric knew she would tell him when she was ready.
After they left, Mairead sighed and relaxed into her pillows. She wished someone had thought to bring her a book. As it was, she had nothing to do but listen to an obnoxious Second Year boy a few beds down from her entertain his endless string of obnoxious visitors.
When the boy began belching the alphabet (to much encouragement and applause from his pals), Mairead closed her eyes, determined to shut out the sight if not the sound. Eventually she fell into a doze. When she awoke there was a large, fluffy ginger cat with a squashed face sitting on her stomach watching her through yellow eyes. She stroked the cat and he settled down on her stomach and began to purr.
She scratched the cat under his chin, distracting herself from the annoying boy by thinking about what Madam Pomphrey had told her.
Though she had no recollection of it, Professor Lupin had evidently saved her life. He had known she was in danger and had come back for her. No one else had visited the library all day. She felt that chances were good that no one else would have thought to go looking for her. She couldn't recall whether any of her friends had known she would be working. She wondered what would have become of her had Professor Lupin not come searching for her at the library.
Great, so now I can add this to the list of reasons why he's perfect, she brooded.
She was so lost in frightening thoughts of her narrowly-avoided fate and the man who had rescued her that she didn't notice that the object of her rumination had entered the Hospital Wing and was walking towards her bed until he said, "Are you up for a visitor?"
Mairead looked up and her heart gave a leap of excitement and nerves.
"Oh! Hi, Professor," she said.
She suddenly felt self-conscious about her looks. She had to look horrible. Her hair was a scraggly mess because she hadn't permitted Madam Pomphrey to pour water over her head, and she also hadn't brushed her teeth since the day before. But he was standing right there smiling with his hands in his pockets and being absolutely perfect and he had come here to see her and she could hardly tell a teacher to wait while she made herself pretty for him, so she resigned herself to looking dreadful, gestured at the chair beside her bed, and said, "Absolutely."
Lupin took a seat and eyed the cat on Mairead's lap.
"I didn't realize that cats were allowed in here," he said. His voice was mild, but his nose wrinkled slightly in distaste.
"Oh, not a cat person?" Mairead asked.
"More like cats aren't 'me' people," he said wryly, and indeed, as he spoke, the orange cat rose from her lap, jumped off the bed, and trotted daintily out the door.
Mairead arched an eyebrow. "Maybe they can hear you talking trash about them all the time."
"I just don't see why Madam Pomphrey lets them come in," said Lupin with a shrug. "It can't be very sanitary."
Mairead looked over at the Second Year boy, who was now making rude sounds with his hand in his armpit, much to the entertainment of his friends. She watched him stonily for a moment and then looked pointedly at Lupin.
"Madam Pomphrey lets Second Year boys come in here," she said evenly. "And they're definitely not sanitary."
Lupin laughed. "Point taken."
"Besides," Mairead went on. "Cats are really good for the healing process."
"Oh?"
"Yes, they're comforting, and snuggling with cats lowers your heart and respiratory rate," she said. "Plus their purrs have healing powers. One study showed that patients who had cats staying with them at MahÅ No Hospital in Japan recovered 7% faster than patients with no cat visitors. And they also reported higher morale throughout the duration of their stay."
Professor Lupin tilted his head to one side. "How do you know all of this?"
Mairead didn't answer, opting to shrug and brush cat hair off her lap instead.
"Are you planning to become a Healer once you graduate?" Lupin pressed.
Mairead smiled humorlessly. "You need to get an E in your Defense Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T. in order to be admitted to a Healer program."
Lupin winced. "I'm sorry."
"It's fine," said Mairead casually. "My fallback is to marry rich... or I guess I could always become a crazy cat lady," she added with a teasing smile.
Professor Lupin laughed again, but quickly sobered. He looked at her closely.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, changing the subject.
"Fine, thanks."
He didn't look convinced. "Are you in any pain?"
"Nah, I'm grand," Mairead lied.
Professor Lupin smiled, but he still looked concerned. Mairead felt a sudden impulse to reach up and smooth her finger over the line between his eyebrows. The thought of touching him made her feel warm and bashful.
"I assume you've already realized that Professor Dumbledore is going to need to talk to you about what happened last night," said Lupin. He watched her closely for her reaction.
Mairead nodded, "Yeah, I figured."
As if on cue, Professor Dumbledore walked into the Hospital Wing, followed by Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, and Snape. Mairead grinned at Lupin.
"What, did you summon them or something?" she teased.
He chuckled, then asked, "Would you like me to leave?"
Mairead felt a twinge of panic as the Headmaster and all four Heads of House neared her bed. She didn't want Lupin to think she was a coward, so she tried to sound offhand when she said, "No, you can stay if you like."
He looked at her closely, and she had a feeling he saw right through her bravado.
Dumbledore smiled at her. "Good afternoon, Mairead," he said pleasantly. His blue eyes peered at her from behind his half-moon spectacles, and Mairead could tell that he was assessing her. She swallowed.
"Good afternoon, Headmaster Dumbledore," she said respectfully.
"Would you mind if we had a few words with you?" he asked. Mairead shook her head.
"Excellent," the older man said cheerfully, then looked over at Professor Lupin. "Ah, Remus, it's good you're here, too."
Remus, Mairead thought with a twinge of pleasure. His first name is Remus. Mairead decided she loved his name. Remus Lupin. However unpleasant this meeting, at least she had the aching pleasure of knowing his name. She would hold onto it like a secret love letter she could pull out and admire anytime she wished.
Dumbledore was pulling the privacy curtains around her bed. A brief buzzing filled the air and then faded.
"I think that ought to do," he said. He looked around. "It is a bit cramped in here, though," he acknowledged as Sprout, Flitwick, Snape, and McGonagall came behind the curtain and stood shoulder-to-shoulder, awkwardly squashed together. Professor Lupin stood up and offered his chair to whomever might want it.
Dumbledore flicked his wand and the curtain began to recede. Mairead watched as the area behind the curtain grew until it was more the size of a cozy sitting room. To add to that effect, Dumbledore twirled his wand in a circle above his head and six cushy armchairs appeared. He placed them evenly throughout the space, then shook his robes out of his way and took a seat in one that had a pattern of teapots on it.
"That's much better!" he said, stowing his wand inside his robes. "Would you like some tea, Mairead?"
Mairead blinked at him. "Erm, I'm set, but thanks," she said quietly.
"Anyone else?" Dumbledore asked, looking around at the teachers now settling into various armchairs. Mairead noticed that Professor Lupin had waited until everyone else had taken a seat before choosing the last chair. The fabric on that chair depicted cats in various states of repose. She looked from the chair's pattern to Lupin, who met her eyes, his mouth twitching at the corners. Was it just her, or had he winked subtly? She decided he hadn't winked. She didn't think she could handle it if he winked at her.
"I think we should get started," said Professor McGonagall. "Madam Pomphrey will only tolerate this for so long before she throws us out."
"Yes, of course you're right, Minerva," Dumbledore said. He looked at Mairead. "I assume that you know why we are here, Mairead?"
Mairead toyed with the idea of being cheeky for less than one second before she realized she didn't have the guts to. "Yes, sir," she said. She hated how shaky her voice sounded.
"I must ask you to tell us what happened last night," Dumbledore said gravely. "Take your time."
Mairead nodded, took a deep breath, and began telling them what she remembered of the previous night. When she got to the point when Black had ordered her to hand over her wand, Professor Sprout put a hand over her mouth and Professor McGonagall closed her eyes briefly.
"Did you give him your wand?" Professor Dumbledore prompted gently. He did not look angry with her. If anything, he looked as though he assumed the answer was "yes."
Mairead shook her head. "I told him I wouldn't give it to him," she said softly.
"And that's when he stabbed you?" guessed Professor Flitwick.
"No, sir," she said. "He tried to talk me into handing it over first. He said he wouldn't hurt me if I gave it to him."
"What happened next?" Professor Dumbledore asked.
"He was sort of... working his way towards me, and then he lunged at me," she said. Her heart was pounding at the memory.
"And that's when he stabbed you," said Professor McGonagall.
"No, Professor," she said, then, "I mean, yes, but not exactly."
"Why don't you tell us when he stabbed you?" Dumbledore asked.
Mairead furrowed her brow. "It... he... the thing is..." she tried.
"Take your time," Professor Lupin reminded her quietly.
Mairead tried to form her thoughts into words that would make sense. "You're going to think I'm crazy," she finally said desperately.
"No one here is questioning your sanity, Mairead," said Dumbledore serenely.
Mairead sighed, then said, "The thing is... I don't - it's like... I don't think he meant to stab me." Five pairs of eyebrows went up. Only Professor Dumbledore remained passive. "It kind of seemed like it was an accident," she went on. "He lunged at me and was trying to get my wand, and I was fighting back and then we stumbled and then the knife just sort of... ended up in me." Even as she said the words she knew how dumb they sounded. The room of professors regarded her in silence. Great, she thought, They're going to send me to St. Mungo's. To her surprise, it was Snape who came to her rescue.
"Black is a master of manipulation, Miss O'Keefe," he said softly. Oddly enough, Snape almost sounded like he was enjoying himself as he went on. "His chief weapons are chicanery and deceit. You are not crazy. If you believe he stabbed you accidentally, it is because Black had a reason for wanting you to think it an accident."
Mairead considered this for a moment. "That makes a lot of sense," she said slowly. "Because he told me he would fix me if I gave him my wand. He said the wound was fatal and I would die if I didn't give him my wand so he could heal me."
"There you have it." Snape sat back and looked around, triumph curling his lip.
"Did you give him your wand, Mairead?" Dumbledore asked again. His voice was still calm and his face held no judgment.
"No," said Mairead emphatically. "I told him... I told him I wouldn't give it to him." She was not about to tell all four Heads of House and the Headmaster and Professor Lupin what she had actually said to Black.
A heavy silence met her answer. Finally, Professor McGonagall delicately said, "No wand was recovered at the scene. And Madam Pomphrey said it was not among your possessions."
Professor Sprout was quick to jump in. "No one here is accusing you of aiding Black, Mairead," she said quickly with an anxious glance at Dumbledore. "And no one could blame you if you did give him your wand," she added, shooting a look at Professor McGonagall.
"It would have been the logical thing to do," Professor Flitwick added sympathetically. "He put you in an impossible situation."
Mairead shook her head. "I didn't give him my wand," she insisted. She looked to Professor Lupin for support. "I didn't."
Professor Lupin was frowning, but he nodded at her, then said to the group, "Mairead was unconscious when I found her. She had lost a lot of blood. He must have waited until she passed out and taken it then."
"That's what he said he would do," Mairead conceded. "He said that I could either give him my wand and he would heal me before he left or he would wait for me to die and then take it. So I broke it before I fainted."
Lupin blinked at her. "You what?" he said.
"I broke my wand," she repeated. "So he wouldn't get it." A stunned silence followed her words.
Finally, McGonagall spoke. "You broke your own wand," she said slowly. "The wand Black told you was your only chance of survival. You deliberately broke it."
Mairead became aware at that moment that she was sweating nervously. "What should I have done instead?" she asked defensively, once again looking to Lupin for help. "It was the only way I could think of to stop Black from taking it."
She looked around at the teachers, feeling desperately childish. Then she noticed that McGonagall and Dumbledore were smiling proudly at her. Professor Sprout laughed weakly and said, "Thank heavens."
Professor Lupin looked over at Professor McGonagall and raised his eyebrows. "She should've been in Gryffindor," he remarked with a small smile.
Mairead frowned. "That's what Black said," she recalled.
Professor Lupin looked at her, a startled expression on his face, and she heard Snape scoff quietly, staring at the ground.
"My, my, where do the similarities end?" Snape asked the floor.
Professor Dumbledore held up a hand for silence. "You've done very well, Mairead," he said kindly. "That was incredibly brave of you. Now, I must ask you another question, but I want to be clear: your answer in no way diminishes the immensity of the sacrifice you were prepared to make. How did you break your wand?"
"That's right," said Professor Flitwick. "We searched the area thoroughly, and the pieces were nowhere to be found."
"He could have taken the pieces," said Professor McGonagall, concern etching her face. "It wouldn't be a fully functional wand, but even with just some Spellotape he could get some use out of it."
Mairead shook her head. "No, I don't think so," she said. "I was careful to destroy it."
"The sawdust," Professor Lupin said. "There was sawdust on you when I found you."
Mairead nodded.
"Brilliant!" said Professor Flitwick. "She used the Reductor Curse on her own wand!"
"No, she couldn't have," Professor McGonagall interjected. "She can't perform curses."
"What did you use, Mairead?" asked Professor Lupin, looking at her closely.
"A Severing Charm," Mairead answered quietly. "I used it a few times to make the pieces smaller until the wand disintegrated." She stole a glance up at Professor Flitwick. He was always quick to warn his students not to use Charms other than for their intended purposes. Would he be angry with her? She was not the only one looking to Flitwick; Professors McGonagall, Sprout, and Lupin were all looking at him as well.
But Flitwick raised his bushy white eyebrows and simply said, "Ingenious."
Mairead felt relief wash over her.
Professor Dumbledore smiled his warm yet always slightly enigmatic smile at her, his blue eyes twinkling merrily. "A job very well done, Mairead," he praised. "I would say that the entire school owes you an enormous debt of gratitude."
Mairead felt her face burn with embarrassment. She looked down and fiddled with a loose thread on her bedspread. "Oh, okay," she whispered, unable to think of anything else to say.
"Well," said Dumbledore, clapping his hands together in satisfaction. "This is better news than I think any of us expected. Now, let us leave Miss O'Keefe to get some rest. I daresay she has earned it."
The teachers all stood, and Mairead stole a quick glance up through the curtain of her hair to see that they were all still smiling, with the exception of Professor Snape, who was regarding her with a cold, calculating expression on his face, as though he were sizing her up.
Professor Dumbledore flicked his wand once and all of the armchairs vanished. The curtain around her bed folded back on itself and Mairead found herself blinking at the daylight suddenly flooding the space.
Professor Dumbledore turned back to Mairead and smiled graciously at her once more. "I wish you a speedy and full recovery, Mairead," he said, then turned and headed for the door, followed by the Heads of House. Professor Lupin was poised to follow them but hesitated.
"Are you all right?" he asked, brow once again furrowed in concern.
Mairead nodded. "I'm fine," she said shakily.
He looked at her closely for a moment, then smiled. "I'll let you get some rest."
He turned to go, but Mairead called, "Professor Lupin!"
He turned back. "Yes?"
"Thank you," she said shyly. "For saving my life."
He raised his eyebrows and then smiled crookedly at her. "Thank you for saving everybody else's."
...
Remus lengthened his stride once he left the Hospital Wing to catch up with the other Professors. When he drew level with them, Snape was in quiet conversation with Dumbledore and McGonagall, Sprout, and Flitwick were talking among themselves.
"...remarkable," Professor McGonagall was saying to Professor Sprout. "You can imagine how I regret all the times I thought her mediocre."
"Being a mediocre student does not necessarily make one a mediocre witch," Professor Flitwick mused philosophically. "The two are not mutually inclusive."
"'Mediocre'?" Remus broke in. "Do you really think so?"
All three Professors nodded emphatically. Remus furrowed his brow.
"That's peculiar," he said mildly. "Mairead strikes me as being rather a good student."
"Yes, she's a decent student now," Professor McGonagall conceded. "But you've only known her this year."
"There are still times I can't believe she made it to her Seventh Year," Professor Sprout laughed lightly.
Remus's eyebrows went up in surprise. "Really?" he asked.
"Oh, yes," said Professor Flitwick. "Her grades were appalling her first four years at Hogwarts."
"And for most of her Fifth Year, as well," Professor Sprout added regretfully.
"Dumbledore asked us to keep her at a passing grade so she could stay here for her protection," Professor McGonagall confided. "She'd be a sitting duck, disabled as she is. He couldn't see himself turning her out into the Wizarding world without any education at all."
"But he couldn't very well persuade the Wizarding Examinations Authority to look the other way," added Professor Sprout. "So when she was still performing dismally at midterms in her Fifth Year, he told her his hands would be tied if she couldn't muster at least three O.W.L.s."
"Obviously she managed that if she's here," said Remus slowly.
"More than that, actually," Professor Sprout said proudly. "She managed five."
"Mairead has done an admirable job turning her education around," came Professor Dumbledore's voice as he joined their conversation. "She has matured into an exceptional young witch. How is she getting on in your class, Remus?"
"She's doing well," Remus said carefully, "but I actually think she could be doing better."
"Oh? She's not giving you any trouble, is she?" asked McGonagall, frowning.
"No, no, it's nothing like that," Remus said quickly.
"What is it that is on your mind, Remus?" Dumbledore asked placidly.
"Well," said Remus in a measured tone, "I've been observing her for a while now, and I have been turning a thought over and over in my mind. She appears to be very clever, and from what I've noted, her creative use of the Severing Charm is not out of the ordinary. I've been having a thought, and I've actually been wanting to run it past you, Professor Dumbledore."
"I am all ears, Remus," Dumbledore said pleasantly.
"Well, I'm still formulating it in my mind," Remus said thoughtfully, "and of course I'm not positive that my idea would hold any water, and I would definitely need to give a lot of thought to how I would go about it -"
"We're dying of suspense here, Remus," said McGonagall dryly. "What are you trying to say?"
Remus took a deep breath before spitting out the thought that had taken root in him.
"I think I can help her."
...
Despite how pleasantly surprised Mairead was to have survived her "little encounter" as Madam Pomphrey obliquely referred to it, November marked the beginning of a long stretch of discomfort and unhappiness for Mairead, starting with her return to the castle at large.
Madam Pomphrey wound up keeping Mairead in the Hospital Wing until midweek. Mairead had developed a minor infection and with the weather turning colder the nurse wanted to ensure Mairead had successfully fought it off before she returned to classes.
Finally on Wednesday at noontime, Madam Pomphrey declared Mairead fully recovered and released her. Mairead headed straight to the Great Hall for lunch. After three days of reduced rations in the Hospital Wing in case she had perforated her bowel (gross, gross, gross) Mairead was ravenous.
No sooner had she walked through the doors, however, than the whispers began:
"Is that her?"
"I think that's the girl!"
"That is! That's the girl!"
Mairead thought at first that a bomb had gone off. Then she realized that the entire student body (or at least, three quarters of the student body) had burst into deafening applause. People were standing up. Some of the staff were joining in. The Weasley twins were pumping their arms and chanting her name. Younger students were clambering onto their chairs to get a better look at her. Lights started flashing and Mairead realized that Thomas's Gryffindor friend, Colin, was snapping photo after photo of her.
Given the situation, Mairead did the only thing that seemed reasonable: she ran for it.
Back out in the Entrance Hall, she hovered uncertainly, half-concealed behind a statue of Paracelsus. She had no idea what to do. Her stomach lurched with hunger and she felt light-headed, although she wasn't sure whether that was a result of low blood sugar or stress. Perhaps if she waited until the half hour the Great Hall would clear out somewhat and it wouldn't be so bad.
Before she could make a decision, the doors opened and Sarah Quimby and Sophie came out in their matching Slytherin robes. Sophie was scowling and Sarah was grinning.
"That was obnoxious," Sophie growled, at the same time that Sarah enthused, "That was excellent!"
"I don't know what to do," said Mairead, wringing her hands and uncomfortably aware of the whiny tone her voice had taken on.
"Ansel and Cedric are telling the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs to cut it the fuck out," Sophie said. "Not sure what can be done about the Gryffindors, though. They're so loud," she added distastefully.
Mairead nodded.
"Buck up!" said Sarah bracingly, putting her arm around Mairead's shoulder. "You could do with some positive P.R. Just enjoy it."
"There was nothing enjoyable about that!" Mairead said emotionally. She felt a little tearful and scrubbed a hand over her eyes. "I thought my heart was going to stop again!"
"What do you mean, 'again'?" asked Sarah.
"Her heart stopped and Lupin had to restart it," said Sophie, looking irritated. "She almost died. You'd have known this if you had visited her once in a while when she was in the Hospital Wing."
"Yeah, sorry about that," Sarah said, not sounding very sorry at all. "School's been brutal."
"No, it's fine, really," Mairead said. "You didn't have to visit me. I appreciate your coming out here."
"So you forgive me?" Sarah asked.
"Of course!" Mairead said emphatically.
"Still friends?"
"Forever," said Mairead.
"So Lupin restarted your heart, huh?" Sarah changed the subject, and Mairead nodded.
Sarah considered this for a moment before saying, "You realize that means he touched your tits, right?"
"What?!" Mairead recoiled from Sarah's embrace and stared at her in shock.
"Well, yeah," Sarah said casually. "What do you think's lying overtop your heart?"
Mairead could feel her face burning. How had she not realized this? Mairead knew from her interest in Healing that a potion was needed to help work someone's heart when it stopped, but it took a minute or two for it to kick in and so typically chest compressions were performed while waiting for the potion to take effect. Madam Pomphrey had told her that Lupin had injured Mairead while restarting her heart, so it stood to reason that he had been the one to pump her heart for her while Madam Pomphrey fed her the potion. She could never face him again after this.
"I want to die," she moaned, hiding her face in her hands. Her skin even felt hot to the touch. "I wish I had died."
"Oh, cheer up," Sarah said. Mairead couldn't see her face, but she sounded suspiciously like she was enjoying herself far too much. "He probably liked it. I mean, he's no Lockhart, if you know what I mean. It's probably been a while since he got his hands on a nice, juicy pair of -"
"Shut the fuck up, Sarah. You're not helping!" Sophie snapped.
Sarah sighed and rubbed a hand across Mairead's shoulders. "Calm down, I'm joking!"
Mairead wanted nothing more than for the ground beneath her feet to open up and swallow her whole. She forced herself to look up when she heard Cedric's voice.
"It's okay now, May," he called gently. "We've got things under control. You can come eat and no one'll bother you."
"I'm not hungry anymore," she said, hating herself, hating school, hating that persistent whiny note to her voice.
"Of course you are," said Sarah.
"C'mon and eat, Mairead," Sophie said. "I'll hex the face off anyone who gives you shit."
Mairead considered her options for a long moment and realized that, as embarrassed as she was now, she would be even more embarrassed if she passed out from hunger between now and dinner. She took a deep, shaky breath and walked hesitantly back to the Great Hall.
Cedric put a steadying hand on her shoulder and, in an uncharacteristic display of affection, Sophie gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze.
Mairead walked through the doors cautiously. Heads still turned and people still gawped, and there was a strained, carefully held silence, which in Mairead's opinion was only slightly less painful than the applause. But she gamely took another step towards her table. The silence held. She could do this. Maybe this wasn't as bad as she was making it out to be.
Behind her, Sarah took a deep breath.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you, my best friend: the HERO OF HOGWARTS!"
No, Mairead decided as she darted for the door once more. The applause is definitely worse than the silence.
...
Things did not improve significantly as the week went on. The spontaneous clapping tapered off rather quickly, but everywhere Mairead went, students stopped her to talk to her. They came up to her in the Great Hall and in corridors between classes. Sometimes an especially enthusiastic student even tried to follow her into her classrooms or the loo.
Their questions were all the same: what did Sirius Black look like? What had he said? Had he told her how he had gotten into the castle? Mairead hadn't wanted to answer any of their questions, and so in true rumor mill fashion, the student body developed their own answers. Soon Mairead was being asked if Black had really landed a dragon on the Astronomy Tower and whether she had engaged in a sword fight with him.
Not even Roger Davies stopping to talk to her on her way out of Herbology as his class arrived did much to improve her spirits. He had leaned against the doorway of the Greenhouse, smiled crookedly at her, and asked her if she was really the one who had fought off Sirius Black.
"Me? No," she had said breathlessly. Then, "Oh, wait! Yes, that was me. Well, sort of."
He raised his eyebrows slightly and let his gaze rake over her body in an appraising manner. Normally she would have loved this kind of attention, had it not been for the fact that during class a Venomous Tentacula she had been walking past had seized the bag of fertilizer she had been holding and shaken it violently at her, strewing her with the substance and imbuing her with an eye-watering odor of dragon dung. She was now standing before Roger sweaty, filthy, and reeking of excrement.
She could tell the moment the scent reached his nostrils. He shrugged off the doorway and gave her a wide berth as he walked around her.
"Well, nice one, Mary," he said perfunctorily.
To make matters worse, some of her teachers hadn't quite picked up on her discomfort with her newfound fame. Professor Flitwick asked her if she would like to come and speak to his Second Years about Severing Charms (no, she would not), and Professor Trelawney, whose class Mairead had dropped in her Fifth Year, asked her to visit her Divination classroom to talk about omens she may have seen in the weeks leading up to Halloween (double no). And while Professor Lupin seemed to have quickly picked up on Mairead's discomfort with the attention she was receiving and took steps to reduce the focus on her in his class, she was so mortified by what Sarah had made her realize about what he must have done in the course of saving her life that she was too embarrassed to look him in the eye and found herself overcome with bouts of awkwardness whenever he directly addressed her.
Mairead knew from her early days at Hogwarts how to make herself as inconspicuous as possible, and quickly found herself returning to the same methods she had utilized when she was younger. She took her meals when the Great Hall would be the quietest, or if her schedule did not allow for that she simply skipped meals, she did her studying in empty classrooms, and spent none of her spare time in common spaces like the library or the Common Room. But there was little she could do to avoid her peers in the corridors and in classes. By Friday, the St. Hedwig's students had rallied to her aid. They had arranged among themselves and coordinated schedules so that someone could always accompany her around the castle to prevent her from being ambushed by the other students.
Normally, Mairead would have been able to lean on Cedric for support during a time like this, but he told her regretfully that Marcus Flint had spoken to him about switching places in the Quidditch match lineup because their Seeker had done some foolish thing and gotten his arm slashed up in class. Naturally Cedric didn't want to be caught flat-footed, this being his first match as team Captain, and what with the incredibly short notice, he was practicing with his team every waking moment.
Compounding all of this was the mounting stress Mairead was feeling in her classes. The end of Fall term was approaching, she had missed three days of classes, and she couldn't even do her work properly now that she was back because she had destroyed her wand and the replacement - which had cost Mairead eight of the galleons she was saving for a flat after graduation - had not arrived yet. Mairead wished badly to escape outside to her favourite tree by the lake, but to top everything off, the weather had turned foul and stormy.
I guess that would be one place I could go where no one would follow me, Mairead thought acidly as she left her last class of the week. Ansel was walking beside her this afternoon.
"Fancy a game of chess before dinner?" he asked her companionably.
"Normally that would sound lovely, but I'm completely knackered," Mairead confessed. "I need to have a lie-down before my shift at the library." It would be her first shift back at the library since Halloween, and she got a nervous jolt in her stomach every time she thought about returning to the place where she had almost died. She definitely needed to get her head on straight before going in.
Ansel nodded sympathetically. "Hufflepuff Common Room, ahoy," he said, trying to get her to smile.
But they had only made it to the staircase leading down to the basement when Percy Weasley strode up to them.
"You're wanted in the Headmaster's office, O'Keefe," Percy said briskly. "I've been sent to fetch you."
"Oh... okay," said Mairead, turning to Ansel uncertainly.
"D'you want me to come with you?" he asked her.
"No need, Williams. I'll make sure she gets there in one piece," said Percy, puffing out his chest. Mairead sometimes wondered if he would explosively decompress if she poked him hard enough in the stomach.
"D'you want me to come with you?" Ansel repeated to Mairead, ignoring Percy's self-importance.
Mairead forced herself to smile. "Nah, I'll be grand," she said. "Thanks though. Maybe we can get in that game of chess this weekend?"
"Just say the word," said Ansel. He ruffled her hair affectionately before turning and walking back towards the Ravenclaw Tower.
"This way, then, step lively," Percy said, forcibly reminding Mairead of a portly old man patting his grandchildren on the bottom before sending them off to bed.
She fell into step alongside him. They walked in silence for a few moments before Percy said, "I understand you've been fielding a lot of questions regarding the attack you endured."
Mairead nodded. "Yep," she said, popping the 'p.'
"Well, you don't have to mind me," said Percy. "I'll be the soul of sagacity. Discretion is one of the traits they look for in a Head Boy, from what I've been given to understand," he added in a confidential tone.
"Oh, sure, that makes sense," Mairead said vaguely.
"Yes, it's quite the arduous process," Percy went on with a small sigh. "Not to mention a great deal of extra work on top of preparing for N.E.W.T.s. I can only take comfort in the knowledge that this will prepare me for the rigor of a position at the Ministry of Magic. Not that I'm counting my chickens, mind!" he chortled.
It was a long walk from the Hufflepuff Basement to the seventh floor, and Mairead paced herself mentally by trying to sound interested enough to keep Percy talking without any real input from her. By the time they began to ascend the staircase to the seventh floor, Percy had already laid out his plans to work in some such Ministry office, to be mentored by some officious stuff-shirt bureaucratic Ministry official, and what sort of pension plan he intended to have.
"Of course," Percy leaned in conspiratorially. "These are all just aspirations! There are untold numbers of Hogwarts graduates dreaming of just such a start at the Ministry. Anything that could put me head and shoulders above the rest would be a real boon to me. And it wouldn't quickly be forgotten," he added, raising his eyebrows significantly at her.
"Oh, yeah," Mairead said, worried she had missed a step while focusing on other things. "Uh-huh?"
"So, all I'm saying is, I know you have been reticent on such matters with the student body in general, which I think is really quite wise of you," said Percy condescendingly. "But if you had some snippet of information, anything really, about Black's plans or whereabouts, anything that I could pass along through the proper channels at the Ministry, well, all I'm saying is it couldn't hurt for someone with your... shall we say, limited talents and capabilities? To have a friend at the Ministry, could it?"
"Gee, it sure is great how sagacious you are," Mairead said pointedly.
Whether Percy picked up on her sarcasm or not Mairead would never know, because they had just arrived at the stone gargoyle guarding the entrance to the staircase to Professor Dumbledore's office.
"Pumpkin pasties," Percy announced to the gargoyle as if he were ordering them off a menu. The gargoyle sprang to life and hopped out of the way. Percy turned to Mairead.
"Will you be all right if I leave you here?" he asked.
"Erm, yeah, I think I'll make it," she said.
"Excellent," he said in a businesslike tone. "And, you won't forget what I said, will you? Any little thing."
"Oh, yeah. Definitely won't be forgetting anytime soon," she responded, climbing onto the moving staircase.
"Oh, and O'Keefe!" Percy called after her. "Do be sure to knock once you get to the top. The Headmaster can't very well have students barging in at every moment."
Mairead tried to force a smile but was only able to manage baring her teeth at Percy.
Once at the top, she knocked on the heavy wooden door (Good thing Percy told me what to do or else I probably would've licked the door like the imbecile I am, she thought savagely), and watched the door swing open.
Mairead entered the Headmaster's office. She had been sent here many times during her tenure at Hogwarts, so she was familiar with the layout. Dumbledore had always been kind to her, even when she was performing her worst in classes. He had even permitted her to explore some of the trinkets littering his office. All of them were fascinating, in Mairead's opinion, but she was unable to focus on them now, nervous as she was. Why had he asked to see her? Had her performance in classes already slipped so significantly in just one week?
"Good afternoon, Mairead," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Have a seat."
When Mairead was seated, Dumbledore reached for a crystal candy dish on his desk and offered it to her. "Have you tried one of these sweets yet? I just learned of them over the summer. They are apparently all the rage among Muggle schoolchildren."
Mairead peeked into the candy dish and saw little, round, hollow, pastel-colored sweets. She reached to pull one out and found that a whole string of them came along with it.
"They're called candy necklaces!" said Professor Dumbledore happily. "You put them around your neck and they resemble nothing more than a piece of jewelry. Excellent for satisfying the sweet tooth subtly while in class. Or in Board meetings," he added mildly.
"Thanks," said Mairead, unable to keep herself from smiling at the Headmaster. Gingerly, she slipped the necklace over her head. She found that the string holding the candy together was quite stretchy.
"Well, I suppose we'd better get down to it shouldn't we?" said Dumbledore. His tone was light and easygoing, but Mairead still felt apprehensive. "The reason I asked you here, Mairead, is because the Hogwarts Board of Governors has voted to present you with an Award for Special Services to the School."
Mairead gawped at him. "Bu- er - erm - for what?" she asked after a moment.
Professor Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Oh, I can think of one or two meritorious acts on your part," he said, eyes twinkling. "They would like you to take part in a special ceremony on December first at seven o'clock. That is a Wednesday."
Mairead stared, wide-eyed in horror at the thought of standing up in front of the entire School Board to be handed some trophy that would then be on display in the Hogwarts trophy room for all time. Would she be expected to make a speech?
She forced herself to speak. "Oh, erm, that's very... I... they didn't... er -"
"Unfortunately I felt the need to step in," Dumbledore went on. "I explained to the Governors that, while you would have been honoured to meet them and would love nothing more than to stand before the whole school and receive an award while hundreds of your peers stare at you, you were still in a fragile state of health, and I didn't believe that a strenuous ceremony would be in your best interests."
Mairead sagged against her chair with relief.
"I hope you don't mind," Dumbledore added delicately, "but I suggested that what might be a more suitable way to recognize your act of courage would be for the school to reimburse you the cost of replacing your wand."
Mairead's heart gave a leap. "Really?" she asked excitedly.
Dumbledore smiled fondly at her. "Really. It's the least we can do... though it does sound as though the most we can do would be to subject you to public scrutiny and embarrassment."
Mairead laughed, as much with relief as from the Headmaster's curious sense of humor.
"Thank you," she said sincerely. Dumbledore nodded.
"I have already instructed Mr. Ollivander to have the funds transferred back into your account at Gringotts and removed from the school's. Now, why don't you take another candy necklace with you? I find I go through them rather quickly."
...
Mairead made it through her first and second shifts back at the library without having a mental breakdown, which she considered to be a major victory. She normally signed up to work in the library during Quidditch matches, since most other people wanted to go and Mairead couldn't make heads or tails of Quidditch. She had wanted to go to the Hufflepuff matches, however, so that she could support Cedric, but unfortunately the last-minute change in the lineup meant that she was stuck working during Cedric's first game as Captain.
It was all just as well, though: the match meant that the library was nearly abandoned, so Mairead managed to get a lot of her backlog of homework done. That, combined with the first moments of solitude and peace she had experienced in a week, topped off by the knowledge that she had not spent her day sitting in uncomfortable stands in the torrential rain that was currently lashing the windows, meant that Mairead was feeling more herself than she had done since Halloween.
When she got back to the Common Room and looked around, she assumed that Hufflepuff had lost the match. Everyone had hangdog expressions on their faces, and Cedric was nowhere to be found. She was therefore surprised to learn from Statia that Hufflepuff had actually won the match.
"Why isn't everyone celebrating, then?" Mairead asked her.
Statia explained in a low voice that Dementors had swarmed the field during the match and that thirteen-year-old Harry Potter, Gryffindor Seeker and Boy Who Lived, had fallen from his broom and narrowly avoided a broken neck.
"Where's Cedric?" Mairead asked as soon as she heard about this.
"He told us he was going to go speak to Madam Hooch and try to forfeit the match," Statia explained. "He caught the Snitch, but he feels it wasn't a fair match."
Mairead nodded. She decided to wait in the Common Room for Cedric to return.
One of the things Mairead liked best about her house was the shared sense of fairness. Her housemates had an innate moral compass that drove them to be hard-working, honest, and compassionate. In keeping with this desire for justice, nearly everyone was readily in support of Cedric's decision to forfeit the match, and those who were not felt that a draw would be more reasonable. But when Cedric returned to the Common Room, he disappointedly announced that Madam Hooch had not budged on her determination that they had won the match.
"It's just... I wanted so badly to win. But not like this," Cedric confided to Mairead. They were sitting side-by-side in front of the fire. Cedric's thick, brown hair was still damp from the rain, and he nursed a large cup of tea in his hands. He looked miserable. "Harry nearly died," he went on. "His broomstick was destroyed..." Cedric shook his head. "They didn't deserve to lose like that. It's not right."
"I'm so sorry," Mairead said, rubbing her hand back and forth across his shoulders. "You did everything you could. I know that's cold comfort, but I'm sure Oliver won't hold it against you, will he?"
Cedric smiled wryly. "Oliver Wood wants to win the cup more than he wants air to breathe," he said. "I think he's trying to press charges against the Dementors as we speak."
Mairead snorted and rested her head against Cedric's shoulder. "It'll come out right. Just wait," she said.
Cedric nodded, lost in thought. Mairead reached out with her free hand and took one of Cedric's hands. She squeezed once, then twice. "I will love you forever," she murmured.
They stayed like that for a while, Mairead holding Cedric's hand, who gazed into the fire, other elbow resting on his knees. Eventually, he sat back and smiled at her.
"I actually wanted to ask you something," he said.
"Lay it on me," she said.
"My parents want me home for Christmas this year," he began softly. "I tried telling them I need to stay to focus on my O.W.L.s, but..."
"Your mum wants you home," said Mairead understandingly.
"Yeah," he nodded. "I think all the stuff with Sirius Black has got her spooked. Anyway, they said I could bring a friend home for the holidays, and I was wondering: d'you want to spend the hols with me and my family?"
Mairead lit up. "Really?" she squealed. "You don't want to bring one of your other mates?"
Cedric looked at her like she had just asked if he wouldn't rather get a pie thrown in his face. "You're my best mate," he said. "I mean," he hedged. "You'll have to deal with my mum asking if we're dating -"
"For the thousandth time," Mairead broke in, smiling and rolling her eyes.
"And my dad has a tendency to sort of... go on a bit... about me," Cedric said, looking embarrassed. "But we always get a huge tree, and there's a dance down in Ottery St. Catchpole on Christmas Eve and there are sleigh rides and hot cocoa and -"
"I'm in," Mairead interrupted. "I am so in!"
Cedric beamed at her. "Excellent," he said. "I'll write to mum later today."
...
November dragged on drearily. It continued to rain incessantly and the castle turned drafty and damp. Both Mairead's workload and her stress levels continued to build up as the end of term drew ever nearer. Mairead was elated when her new wand arrived, but soon found the note Mr. Ollivander had included in the box to be prescient:
Dear Ms. O'Keefe,
Enclosed please find your new wand. I have matched the materials in your previous wand as closely as I could; the willow your new wand is made from comes from the same region in Eastern Spain from which I collected the specimen of willow in your previous wand, and the phoenix feather core comes from the daughter of the phoenix whose feather was in your first wand.
Please keep in mind, however, that each wand is unique. Each phoenix feather bears its own properties and each tree is the result of its specific circumstances. While this wand is as closely matched to your previous wand as possible, it is not a twin or even a sibling to your previous wand. Additionally, since you were unable to be present to allow the appropriate wand to select you, I cannot guarantee that this wand will be a suitable match for you. Wands with phoenix feathers at the core are notoriously picky, and do not take well to being placed with a witch or wizard who is not a good match for them. As a result, you may find you have difficulty getting the same results from this wand that your previous wand produced.
Professor Dumbledore has informed me of the circumstances under which your old wand was lost. I do not do this often, but if you find that this wand is not a good match for you, I will allow you to exchange it, provided you visit my shop in person to purchase another. Please try this wand, keeping in mind that an adjustment period is normal, and if you are unhappy with it by the time the holiday break arrives, I invite you to visit my shop to exchange this wand for a more suitable match.
Until then, I remain yours in service,
Garrick Ollivander
Mairead had never given much thought to the importance of a good match with a wand. She supposed now that she had taken her old wand for granted, because her new wand felt like a wild horse to her. It was unpredictable: sometimes it worked perfectly, other times it vibrated or shook wildly in her hands, and other times still it produced results ranging from weak to disastrous, or simply refused to function at all.
Just as her wand's performance had a wide range, so, too, did her professors' tolerance for it. Professors Sprout, Burbage, and Lupin's classes seldom if ever required Mairead to use her wand, and Professors Flitwick and McGonagall were clearly doing their best to endure in silent annoyance the aggravation of Mairead's wand. Professor Snape, however, had no patience whatsoever for Mairead's situation. At best, he was sarcastic and passive aggressive, but he also did not hesitate to remove points from Hufflepuff if he felt that Mairead's wand was distracting the class. Mairead wasn't sure what was causing it, or even if she was imagining it, but it seemed as though Snape's vitriol for her only continued to grow as the term went on.
By mid-November Mairead was living for winter break. Not only was she looking forward with an almost frenzied excitement to spending her first Christmas in an actual home in nine years, but she had also written to the Diggorys a few days earlier and asked if they would mind if she and Cedric stopped first in Diagon Alley to replace her disaster of a wand.
She spent all of her (meager) spare time fantasizing about Christmas with Cedric and his family. She tried not to pepper him with too many questions, but she wanted to know everything: did they go caroling? What was the dance like? What kinds of foods did they make? What were the decorations like? Was there usually snow in Ottery St. Catchpole at Christmastime? Did they go sledding? Mairead even dreamed about Christmas, which was a welcome change from the usual lineup of nightmares she faced most nights.
She was therefore delighted when she went down to breakfast one Friday morning near the end of November and found an owl waiting for her with the Diggorys' answer to her letter. She decided to save it and read it as a special treat after classes. She hoped they would say yes. As much as she couldn't wait to exchange her wand, she also wanted to go to Diagon Alley to pick up gifts for Cedric's parents as a thank you for hosting her, and Cedric had told her (after much nagging on her part) what his parents' favorite shops were.
Mairead practically skipped to the dungeons for Potions class, gave Professor Snape a wide smile as she handed in her essay, and took her seat.
It was immediately apparent that Professor Snape was in one of his "arse-biting moods," as Cedric referred to them. Snape's scowl followed Mairead all the way to her seat, until he addressed the class.
"By now, your Polyjuice Potions should be ready for the next step in the brewing process," he said softly. "You will begin today by adding the knotgrass, and by the end of today's class you should have added the lacewing flies."
He began circling among the class, glancing into their cauldrons as they got to work. As Mairead was breaking up the knotgrass into smaller chunks, Snape went on.
"This seems as good a time as any to remind you that the grade you receive on this potion represents 30% of your overall grade in this class," he said in his silkily dangerous voice. "Fail this potion and there will be very little point in returning to this classroom in January."
Mairead focused all her energy and attention into making sure her potion was flawless. It was coming along perfectly so far. She prepared the proper number of lacewing flies and waited for the signal to add them.
"As those of you who have read the assigned chapters in your textbook should know," said Snape from the front of the classroom, "Once the lacewing flies are added, the potion needs to stew for twenty-one days. After you have added the flies, you will reduce the fire under your cauldrons to achieve the appropriate temperature called for in the instructions."
Mairead tipped her lacewing flies into her cauldron, took out her wand, and flicked it at the flame burning merrily beneath her cauldron.
Nothing happened.
She tried again. This time, the flame grew in size.
Shit, shit, shit, she thought to herself.
She flicked her wand at the fire and this time verbalized the spell, "Reducio, ignis!" The fire grew still larger. Panicked, she tried once again. "Reducio, ignis!"
It was as though she had applied a bellows to the fire. Mairead leapt back with a cry of alarm as flames licked up the sides of her cauldron and caught the hem of her robes. Frantically, Mairead aimed her wand at her robes and cried, "Aguamenti!"
Immediately, as if it had never malfunctioned in its life, her wand obediently produced a jet of clean water from its tip. Mairead extinguished her robes and then in desperation aimed the stream of water at the fire beneath her cauldron.
She succeeded in dousing the flame, but quickly the classroom was engulfed in plumes of smoke and steam that had the entire class coughing and waving their hands in front of their faces.
Mairead fell back a step and pressed a hand to her chest. She could feel her heart pounding through her robes. She looked up and saw that Snape had rounded on her. His black eyes glittered with malevolent glee.
"Well, well," he began softly. "I always knew you were an imbecile, Miss O'Keefe, but I must admit that even I am surprised at the extent of your incompetence and stupidity."
Flushed as she already was, Mairead could feel her cheeks heating up in shame and indignation.
"Please, sir," she tried. "It was my wand -"
"Yes, I know all about your wand," Snape interrupted her impatiently. "I daresay we all do, eager as you have been to spread your trumped-up, glorified, braggadocious version of events all over the school." Here his lip curled in disdain. "Of course a certain period of adjustment is to be expected when one acquires a new wand. But this..." here he gestured to the sodden, still smoking mess of her cauldron, "this is beyond any disaster I have seen even from my First Year students, who, may I remind you, are also breaking in their new wands, and yet still manage to have more mastery over their craft than you have managed to scrape together in all seven years at Hogwarts."
Mairead wanted to argue. She wanted to justify why this was different, but when he put it that way, she saw that he was right. She truly was incompetent. Putting all of her effort into fighting back tears, she remained silent.
"As for your potion," Snape continued with an unpleasant laugh. "Well, it is obviously ruined." Her gestured again at her cauldron, and now that the smoke had cleared Mairead could see that all that remained of her meticulously crafted, heretofore perfectly brewed Polyjuice Potion was a substance that resembled clay that had hardened in the sun.
"Your cauldron is likely useless now, as well," Snape went on. "But that may not be a problem. Seeing as you will be receiving a naught for this project, I can't see that you will have any further use of a cauldron for the remainder of your time at Hogwarts."
Mairead looked up at him in horror. "Please," she whispered. She felt a tear escape and slip down her face. "Please let me try again, sir," she begged.
Snape looked upon his tearful student with disgust. "And why should I do that?" he asked. "So that you may continue to distract your classmates and detract from their educational experiences?"
"Please, sir," Statia spoke up earnestly. "We don't feel she's distracting or detracting from our experience," she gestured around at the other Hufflepuffs, who all nodded fervently in agreement. "Please let her try again." The other students murmured their agreement.
"Silence!" Snape barked. "Focus on your own potions or I will fail ALL of you!"
The room hesitated. Mairead looked around. So few Hufflepuffs ever made it this far in Potions class. She couldn't be the reason they all failed. She nodded at her classmates and gestured with her hand that they should let this go. Reluctantly, they all turned back to their work. Statia was the last to turn away, her gaze lingering miserably on Mairead.
Snape turned to Mairead's workstation. "Evanesco," he declared. Mairead's cauldron and the soggy remains of the fire beneath it vanished. He then turned back to Mairead. "Leave this classroom," he ordered coldly. "And since you have failed your term project, there is very little point in your returning in the New Year."
Mairead gathered up her remaining things and forced herself to keep her back straight and her head high as she left the classroom. Statia once again gave Mairead a miserable look, and Mairead forced herself to smile reassuringly at her housemate.
As soon as she was out in the chilly corridor, Mairead broke down into tears. She ran for the nearest girls' bathroom and hid in a stall sobbing until the end of the period. Hastily, she cleared out when the bell rang before any of her classmates could find her crying.
...
Mairead skipped Muggle Studies that afternoon. She sent a shaky note to Professor Burbage that she wasn't feeling well and instead spent the period outside sitting beneath her tree. The weather was still steely and bitter, but the rain had let up to a sharp mist that stung her face when she walked through it but just settled lightly in her hair and on her clothes when she came to rest against the tree trunk.
She sat there in misery, letting her mind go blank as she watched the waters of the lake move restlessly. Her dreams of becoming a Healer were now entirely dashed. Despite her uselessness at Defense Against the Dark Arts, she had still held a small hope that some program somewhere might admit her. Sister Mary Margaret had written to her in October about a Healing school in America that might make an exception for a candidate with a disability, but there was no way they would admit someone who simply flunked out of Potions.
Besides, perhaps she would fail all of her classes. Snape was right: the First Years were also getting used to their new wands, but they still managed to get results from them. Mairead couldn't even make a stupid, flimsy piece of wood listen to her. What hope did she have of convincing the W.E.O. that she deserved to join society as a qualified witch?
One thing she knew for sure: if she had any hope of graduating from Hogwarts in June, she needed to get a new wand.
Suddenly remembering the letter in her bag, Mairead dug out the response from Cedric's parents. She held the letter in her hands for a few moments before opening it. Even if she had failed out of Potions, at least she would have a nice time over the holidays, and perhaps then she could come back to school rejuvenated and ready to try again. She flipped open the letter and read Mr. Diggory's slanted handwriting:
Dear Mairead,
I hope this letter finds you well! Mrs. Diggory and I have always thought you to be a very special girl. You have been a good friend to Cedric, and we hope you will remain so for many years to come.
I hope you will understand that this letter is very difficult for me to write. The bottom line is, I feel - and Mrs. Diggory agrees with me - that it would be best if you did not join us for Christmas this year.
Cedric is getting older, Mairead. When he first came to Hogwarts, he already had a group of friends he knew and there were several among that group whom Mrs. Diggory and I thought were quite promising. When Cedric befriended you we were delighted. We have always taught our son to look kindly on those less fortunate than himself and to rise above stigmas and stereotypes to find the real, gifted person underneath. Cedric's generous spirit is something we have always been quite proud of. But Cedric is not a boy anymore. He is sixteen years old and soon will be looking for something other than friendship among his lady friends. Mrs. Diggory and I have discussed this extensively, and Cedric's clear preference for you is, to put it quite simply, not what we had in mind for him.
I want to be very clear that this has nothing to do with your special needs. We are not prejudiced people. We have a friend who is a Squib and we think you are a wonderful girl with a great deal of potential. You could go on to do some very fine work; it has happened before. To be quite honest, you inspire me, Mairead. But as you mature I think you may come to understand what those of us who are older and a bit wiser know from experience: your father was a truly devious man, and a detriment to society. Cedric has assured me that you carry none of your father's objectionable proclivities, but you must understand that even the very name O'Keefe is disturbing to honorable witches and wizards in our society.
Mrs. Diggory was concerned about my sending this letter to you. She wished me to convey some other reason for rescinding Cedric's invitation. But the times I have met you I have found you to be a mature and intelligent young woman, and so I feel sure I can be blunt with you. People like you are often more aware of their situation than the average witch or wizard gives them credit for, and so you probably already know quite well yourself that the combination of your family heritage and your special situation makes you an entirely unsuitable match for our son. Cedric plans to follow in my footsteps one day and join the Ministry of Magic. In order for him to gain prominence, he must have a witch by his side who can hold her own, and whose reputation is above reproach.
For these reasons, we think it altogether best if Cedric finds another friend to bring home for the holidays. Mrs. Diggory and I would be very grateful to you if you could concoct an excuse to tell Cedric. Perhaps the travel would be too much strain on your abilities? I am sure you will come up with something appropriate.
Thank you in advance for your understanding, and Mrs. Diggory and I send our best wishes for a very Merry Christmas!
Best Regards,
Amos Diggory
Mairead stared at the pages in her hands. There was a faint thrumming in her ears. She went back and read the letter again, thinking perhaps she had read too much into it and would see on the second read that it wasn't so bad as she thought it was.
Nope. It's worse on the re-read, actually.
Mairead lost track of time as she sat beneath the tree. She grew colder and eventually the stinging in her toes and fingertips roused her to realize the sun was sinking. She stood up, her stiff joints complaining as she straightened. A numbness had settled around her, replacing the stress and sadness, indignation and self-hatred she had been feeling all afternoon with nothing but a neutral grey blanket of nothingness.
She didn't recall walking back to the castle, but somehow she got to the front doors. When she reached them, she noticed Professor Sprout approaching them as well.
"Ah, Mairead!" said Professor Sprout with a wide smile. "I was actually on my way up to the castle to find you. Professor Dumbledore has asked me to fetch you and bring you to his office. We're to have a meeting."
Mairead nodded, her head still full of fog. "Oh, okay," she said, and obediently followed her Head of House in silence up to the seventh floor.
She supposed Snape had informed Dumbledore that she had failed Potions. These meetings were usually about her failing one subject or another when she and her Head of House were both called to a meeting with the Headmaster. She wasn't sure what she would say to Professor Dumbledore. She was sure he would be disappointed with her, and she hated disappointing the man.
I suppose I'll just tell him that I'm a dunderhead, she thought emotionlessly. It's the truth, after all.
Professor Sprout chatted merrily about how the plants were doing in the Greenhouses, and praised Mairead for her recent work in Greenhouse Three. Mairead felt her face form a smile without having told it to. She supposed her work in the Greenhouses would only count for extra credit in Herbology now that she was out of Potions.
"Pumpkin pasties!" Professor Sprout said when they arrived at the gargoyle. "A pumpkin pasty sounds good right about now!" she chuckled to Mairead over her shoulder as the gargoyle hopped out of the way.
At the top of the staircase, Professor Sprout knocked and the door swung open. Mairead followed her in and saw Professor Dumbledore sitting behind his desk, smiling warmly at her. She was dimly surprised to see Professor Lupin was also in Dumbledore's office, standing off to one side, hands in his pockets.
"Please have a seat, Mairead, Pomona," said Professor Dumbledore.
Mairead sat down. Why was Lupin there? Would she really have to explain to him that she had flunked Potions as well? And where was Professor Snape? Mairead couldn't imagine that he would miss an opportunity to watch a student fail.
"Mairead, Professor Lupin has a proposal I'd like you to hear," said Professor Dumbledore, folding his hands on his desk. She looked over at Lupin, who looked as though he was trying to conceal his excitement. He was still standing, but was rocking on the balls of his feet slightly and was losing a battle with his mouth not to smile. Finally, he spoke.
"How would you like to earn an O.W.L. in Defense Against the Dark Arts?" he asked her.
"What?" she said bluntly, then, remembering herself, "Er, I mean, excuse me?"
Lupin exchanged a glance and a suppressed smile with Dumbledore, who said, "Professor Lupin thinks he may have a way to help you."
Mairead felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. Not this again. He can't honestly be trying this bullshit again.
Professor Lupin was speaking again. "I've spent the past month or so thinking this over," he said, "and I've developed a plan that I think stands a good chance of working."
"This would not be a cure, mind," Professor Sprout said from beside her. Mairead whipped her head around and stared at her Head of House. So she's in on this, too?
"No," Lupin agreed. "More of a... workaround. Still, I think it could be a decent solution." He paused here and looked at Mairead. Clearly he was expecting some sort of response from her, but Mairead was unable to speak.
"Why don't you explain your plan to Mairead?" Professor Dumbledore prompted. "Mairead, listen closely, if you would. I think you'll see what I see here." Mairead's ears were ringing, but she listened as Professor Lupin began to explain what the three professors had decided would be done to her.
"I think the first thing we should do is try to get a better sense of your abilities," said Lupin. "So if we were to think of magical abilities as a tree," Here he began gesturing with his hands in midair, "and each area of magic as a branch on that tree, we can see - here's a branch for charming and bewitching magic, here's a branch for conjurations and transformative magic, here's a branch for defensive magic, a branch for clairvoyance and predictive magic, and so on.
"If we extend this metaphor and apply it to you," Professor Lupin went on, "you have always been told that the branch on your tree that contains defensive magic is dead, and while that does appear to be the case, I have a suspicion that over the years you have developed coping mechanisms that, with some experimentation and one-on-one instruction, could compensate for the dead parts of that tree."
He paused again, and Mairead had a feeling he was again looking for some response from her. She was staring at her knees, clenching her jaw and feeling her heartbeat getting faster. Experimentation?
"Go on, Remus," Dumbledore said placidly.
"Well," Lupin continued, now sounding somewhat uncertain. "I thought that the first step would be to develop something of a map of Mairead's mind. I was thinking that we could perform some simple tests... to... sorry -" he broke off suddenly. "Are you all right, Mairead?"
Mairead's heart was racing now. The numbness she had been feeling earlier was burning away. All of the emotions she had been suppressing all afternoon - no, all month - had come crashing into her at full force. Hot anger was licking at her sides. Self-loathing met righteous indignation and melded into something sickening that churned in her stomach. Her claustrophobic discomfort at being in the spotlight of the whole school, her burning shame at failing one of the only subjects she had ever shown any semblance of promise in, her hurt at being rejected by the family of her dearest friend, her impotent rage at the whole world for displaying a mixture of pity, disgust, and condescension towards her, all combined with the sharp sting of the betrayal and broken promises of Dumbledore and Sprout. Her hands were shaking, the room felt too hot, her breath was coming in short gasps. Tears were burning the rims of her eyes but she didn't care. She needed to get out of the room before she burst.
"May I please be excused, Professor Dumbledore?" she said in a tightly controlled voice.
"Mairead, I think you ought to listen to Professor Lupin's idea," Professor Dumbledore said gently.
"May I please be excused?" she repeated. It was the best she could do at politeness at the moment.
"You don't seem interested in this idea," Professor Lupin said slowly, sounding perplexed and concerned, but not angry.
"No, I'm not," she said, still talking to her knees. "May I please be excused?"
A brief silence followed, then Lupin said, "You seem upset. Will you tell me why?"
"Because I'm not interested," she said, aware of the jerky tone to her voice.
"Mairead, be polite," Professor Sprout chided her.
Mairead couldn't take it anymore. She snapped.
"No," she said, her head jerking up. "I'm done being polite. Politeness hasn't gotten me anywhere. Why do you keep doing this?"
She turned to look at Professor Dumbledore, who was observing her calmly. His serenity only served to infuriate her more. Was this amusing to him? Was he entertained?
"When will it be enough?" she demanded, her voice rising in volume. "I've told you I've had enough of this! I don't want to try anything else! I'm done! It's been seven years of this! You parade me in front of one Defense teacher after another after another like I'm some grotesque test subject and I'm sick of it!" She was yelling now. At some point she had risen to her feet, but she wasn't sure when. Tears were streaking her face but she scarcely noticed as she turned the full force of her anger on Professor Lupin.
"I am not your lab rat," she said in cold fury. "You can't just perform your experiments on me and fucking map my disability like it's a missing limb on some ridiculous tree. I am not a tree. I am a goddamn human being and I have had ENOUGH! I'm terribly sorry to inform you, Professor Lupin, but I am not your path to glory. I'm not just going to sit there while you poke and prod me and try out different spells and potions and put me in the Hospital Wing for weeks at a time and get me hauled up to Dumbledore's office because I'm not performing up to standards in classes when I've had my skin sloughing off and my hair falling out from some teacher's latest attempts at 'saving' me. Not anymore. I'm done. So you can save your ideas. So sorry you're not going to get a great book publishing deal on your latest self-aggrandizing best-seller, Squabbles with Squibs or whatever the last moron to sit in your office for nine months and think himself God wanted to call it. I've had enough. I'm done."
She rounded once more on Dumbledore. "You promised me you wouldn't make me do this anymore. You promised," she said. And just like that, like a candle flickering out at the end of its wick, all of the fight went out of her. "You said Lockhart was the last one."
She turned back to Lupin. "And you," she said. "I thought you were different." Her voice broke on the last word and she put a hand over her mouth as she began weeping in earnest now. In a way, his betrayal had hurt worst of all.
"He is different," Professor Sprout supplicated.
Mairead shook her head stubbornly, screwing up her eyes and nose to try to stem the flow of tears. "No, he isn't," she said brokenly. "He's just like all the others, just better at hiding it."
She turned to Professor Dumbledore and once more begged, "May I please be excused?"
"Yes."
It wasn't Professor Dumbledore who spoke, but Professor Lupin. His face was paler than usual, but was otherwise expressionless. "You're excused," he said softly.
Without another word, without a glance at any of the teachers, Mairead walked to the door, threw it open, and fled the room.
...
Author's Note: What did you think? This was a suuuper long chapter but I really wanted to show the buildup of everything that led to Mairead's explosion in Dumbledore's office, and if I broke it up across chapters I was worried I would lose that. Anyway, I hope you are all enjoying! I would love to hear your thoughts!
Song for this chapter: "Black Me Out," by Against Me! (Mairead)