September 7, Morning
I awoke in the infirmary. I looked around and saw Molly Weasley sitting by my side, reading a newspaper. It was clear she had been there for a while, possibly all night. I started to say good morning, but began to choke. Molly was by my side, at once. "Don't try to talk, Owen," she told me in a voice that rivaled Mam's. Instinctively, I obeyed.
Madam Pomfrey walked into the room, and told Mrs. Weasley to bring Dumbledore. She then stood in front of me, and grabbed my head, forcing me to look down. "Owen," she said in an overly stern voice, "Under NO circumstances are you to try to speak. Do not try to nod your head or show any reaction to what I say. If you do, you will feel pain. Do not react to what I said."
She let go of my head, and I tried to nod. A spasm of pain shot through my body.
"You have a curse," she told me, "and a nasty one. Whoever is responsible doesn't want you talking about that night, so they laid a little trap for you. As soon as you tried to tell us, the curse fell on you. You can't speak, you can't write, you can't even nod your head. You cannot communicate with anyone one in any way or you will feel pain. To make matters worse, we can't figure out how to break the curse. I'm sorry, Owen."
Madam Pomfrey was wrong. I could react in at least one way. The tears flowing down my cheeks showed I could cry. I didn't find out until later how she knew all the details of this curse, but when I found out, I would be grateful that I did not remember that part.
It quickly became the habit for the others of our group to talk to each other in my presence, literally talking behind my back. Albus assured them that I needed to be kept informed, even in my condition. That is how I found out I would go to Gryffindor house. It was an absurd notion, I thought. If I cannot relate to anyone, why put me around people. I would have to trust Albus in this decision. I was, again literally, in no condition to argue.
Albus called Neville to meet him in the infirmary. "Neville, I want to thank you for your help with Gregory. I am not sure I understand his trust in you, but it is good to know we can use it."
"Thank you, Sir," Neville responded, "But there is a problem with that. It might just be my imagination but Gregory thinks I'm trustworthy, and now it seems that more and more people are looking up to me. Students I barely know are asking me for advice."
Albus frowned, "He cursed Owen to keep him from revealing his secret, and now he has charmed you to make people trust you. A curious problem, but at least you benefit from all of this."
"Uh, Albus," Neville continued, "there are a couple of other problems. Gregory also thinks that Ginny is my girlfriend."
"And now everyone else does? How did this happen?"
"It was at the welcoming feast. Ginny was sitting next to me, and she noticed the Ravenclaw first years looking at us. She brought my attention to them, and when I waved, they reacted with enthusiasm. Ginny asked why, and I told her how I had helped yo get them in the boats, when Hagrid left to see about Gregory. I commented that I had apparently done a fine job. Ginny told me I was very sweet and gave me a peck on the cheek."
Neville paused in his tale. "I should add that her father appeared right after this. He came up behind Ginny and said, 'Hi, Honey." Hearing his voice surprised Ginny that she almost jumped on the table. At the time it was rather funny, but then Arthur asked to speak to me after dinner. Ginny wanted to know what was going on, and I told her that they wanted to ask me about Gregory. That was when I looked over and saw him and his new friends watching me.
"It seems that these events, seen across the hall, told them a different tale. That Ginny kissed me was proof we were going together. That Arthur interrupted when he did was proof that he did not approve, and that would explain why we both deny everything. Unfortunately, now we are 'known' to be a couple. Ginny is climbing the walls because every time she says it isn't true, she gets a 'knowing' smile."
Albus was grinning at this problem. I even had a small grin, carefully hidden. Neville didn't appreciate it. "Please, Albus, It isn't funny. That's one of the areas people keep asking my advice about."
I couldn't help it. I actually fell out of bed laughing. I was carefully ignored, once they were assured I wasn't hurt. I don't think they realized I was paying attention, because they both had confused expressions when I glimpsed their faces.
Of course, Ron Weasley hates me for making passes at his sister, and the twins keep reassuring me that they trust me with Ginny. It's hard for me, Sir. It was only last week I was Neville who keeps losing his toad."
I had a shock at that. I had thought I was only in the infirmary for two days. I've lost five days already. I would have to keep listening.
"If Owen follows you, Neville," Dumbledore said, "take him back to your common room. We'll see if he can make his classes. We can't risk putting him back in Ravenclaw, while Gregory is still an unknown item." I listened as Albus muttered to himself, "if only I could risk removing that boy."
As Neville left, I put on a robe and slippers and followed him. Peeves appeared and began whispering in my ear, floating with me as I walked. "I know about the box. You are smart, you are." He left before I could react.
Neville began talking to himself, "Let me see, today is Saturday. The lady from social welfare is coming tomorrow to see Gregory. There is a music teacher coming as well. Timmy, the brother, is happy at his new school in Hogsmeade. He also likes Hermione Granger as his favorite babysitter." He said the last part with a laugh. "The feeling isn't mutual."
As we approached Gryffindor, the portrait covering the entrance moved aside. "The Fat Lady has been told to open any time that you approach. This way you don't have to worry about how to get in or out."
Neville had warned everyone about my condition. Naturally, when I was brought into the Gryffindor common room, I found it crowded with all of them trying to get a good look at the student they have to ignore. Most were disappointed then and there. All they saw was a skinny boy with black hair and red eyes. From some of the remarks I overheard, the Tinker had done more than make people like Neville. Everyone seemed to know me as well, and their attitude could not be described as friendly.
I looked around, trying not to see anybody but trying to mark the room I was in. It was crowded, with all of the students here, unlike the Ravenclaw house. Our Common Room was larger, with a circular fire place in the middle of a round room, with a recessed second floor. Ravenclaw was like sitting in a nest. We even had a balcony, which was called the Perch. Gryffindor was different. It looked and felt 'royal' for lack of a better word. I felt as though I were in a miniature castle. I had the thought that I could refer to the Gryffindors as squires instead of students and no one would object.
Neville showed me where my bed was, a closet that had been cleared out. "Albus said it would be best to have you around people, but still give you means to keep your privacy. The only other choice was to keep feeding you sleeping potions in the infirmary." He took me back to the common room, showing where they had placed a chair in front of a window, but near enough to the fireplace, so that I would have the light. I thought about how lucky I was. Now I could be kept away from everyone, while still being in the same room.
I sat down in the chair, and took the book someone had placed on the side table. It was by Lewis Carroll, "Through the Looking Glass." A piece of paper marked the page where the poem, "The Walrus and the Carpenter," began. On the paper was a note from Walter. "I showed them the poem, they liked the part about the bitter tear, but they wouldn't say why. I doubt they plan on going to the beach. I heard about your problem. Listen to Hermione if you want help." There was a postscript, saying, "If you can't take the hint, I'll talk to her myself."
It was a curious note, but then Walter is not, and I believe refuses to be, your normal student. I had just finished the note when I heard Hermione come in. She was muttering, "I hate him, I hate him!"
"Hate who?" I heard Ginny ask.
"Hermione, you're filthy," I heard another voice say.
"I hadn't noticed, Ron. Thank you for pointing it out," Hermione said sarcastically.
"Hermione," Ginny called, "just tell us what happened."
I could hear Hermione scowling, and I thought about what Walter had written. I got out of the chair, and stood next to it, so that I could face the fifth year student.
Hermione let loose with her tale. "First of all, that brat runs away from me and jumps in the lake, clothes and all. When I finally fish him out, the six-year-old from hell runs over to play with Fang. There he was, rolling around in the dirt and mud and the other stuff, laughing his head off. Then I had to wrestle him into a bath. Just as I'm ready to murder him, he puts his arms around my neck, and tells me he loves me."
"Awww," said Ginny and Ron together. I let out a giggle.
"Who are you?" Hermione asked. I quickly hid my eyes and sat back in my 'hiding' chair.
"Don't talk to him," Ginny quickly told Hermione. "He's the Ravenclaw boy. The one that was cursed."
"I've been busy with Timmy. I never heard the full story. What kind of curse?"
"He can't talk to anyone, or make gestures, or write anything. If he tries to, something happens."
"What's his name?" Hermione asked.
"Who cares, " said Ron.
"I do, Ron. That boy has a problem, and maybe I can't do anything, but I will try. And, Ron, you are going to help me."
"Me? Why?"
"Because you have a brother who is a professional curse breaker. We are going to make a list of all of the symptoms, and you will then owl Bill and ask his advice."
"You'd do all that for a git like him."
"I would do that, and more for Draco Malfoy," Hermione said in closing.
I heard footsteps and felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see Hermione standing there. "If I can help, I will," she told me. A sign of happiness escaped my lips at the thought.
Then I was on the floor. Pain began shooting across my chest, and down my arms and legs. Screams escaped, as I tried to control myself. I could vaguely hear Neville yelling to Hermione, "Don't help him. You can't help him. It will only make things worse."
An hour later I was drinking some warm tea that had appeared without my notice. I heard someone come up, half seeing him out of the corner of my eye. It was Harry Potter. I carefully stared straight ahead, looking out the window, while he talked.
"Neville told me your problem, and asked for my help. I want you to know that I'm doing this for Neville, and not for somebody like you. From what I've heard, you got what you deserved, that's why no one else will help you. Lucky for you, I'd do almost anything for Neville." He threw a package on my lap. "It's my invisibility cloak. Since you have to avoid people, this will help you out. I know I wouldn't mind not seeing you around."
As he was walking away he did something strange. He apologized. "I'm sorry I said that. I didn't mean it. When Neville asked me, I thought it was an excellent idea." He walked away a few more steps.
"I think it's your curse. Once I started to talk to you, I couldn't stand to be near you, but now that I'm moving away, the feeling is growing weaker. I'll let Hermione know. She's in the library right now." I pondered what he said as his footsteps faded.
That explained a lot, and nothing at all. Harry Potter and most of the Gryffindors were affected by the curse, if what Harry said was true. The exceptions were Neville and Hermione Granger, but why. None of the adults I have had contact with were affected, either. Throw in Peeves comment about the box, and I had a lot to think about.
It was an interesting evening, and I had one more mild surprise before it ended. I went back to where my bed was, It was in a storage closet that had been emptied out. It was big enough for a bed, night table and chair. My trunk was under the bed as usual. I crawled into bed, and leaned my head against the wall. This would be the first time at the school that I would fall asleep on my own. I felt the tears welling in my eyes at the state I was in.
I heard the door to the closet open, and someone walked in with a lamp. The lamp was placed on the table, and I heard them sit down. I heard a book open, and an older woman began to read. I vaguely recognized her voice.
"In a hole in the ground there lives a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the
ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down
on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort." (1)
I fell asleep with a smile on my lips, dreaming of wizards and dwarves.
1. The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien, chapter 1, first paragraph.
