September 14, Morning
It had been an interesting week. Thanks to the invisibility cloak, I was able to go almost anywhere without difficulty. I still had problems with classes, but this was solved by a simple expedient. I was excused from attending. Instead, I would sit in a private corner of the library, and read. Books would always be waiting for me, with passages marked. Some classes, such as Care of Magical Creatures, and Flying, I missed out on entirely.
Hermione would stop by regularly, letting me know of her progress. Yesterday afternoon, she came to me, excited, saying that she was sending Walter to talk to me. Walter came by and said, "Hello." Then he added, "I think Hermione's on to something. I'll talk to you later." The only thing his visit told me was that he was also unaffected by the curse.
As I wandered the corridors, I did learn quite a bit of gossip on Neville and Ginny. For a large number of students, mostly female, this was the only subject for discussion. They mostly agreed with Molly that Ginny doesn't know how she feels about Neville. This was commented about on a regular basis, with laughter usually following. The older students would then start talking about their first crushes. If possible, I would quickly slip away at this point.
Most of the male student, when they talk about it, discuss the reactions of the Weasley brothers. From what I overheard, they have either Ron, one of the twins, or all three, looking for a way to remove Neville from the scene. Neville, on the other hand, had become so involved in helping me, that he considered Ginny to be more of a nuisance than anything else.
At first I was surprised that almost no one talked about me. But the more I thought about it, I understood there was not much to talk about. All they could say is "He's still cursed."
I did make an effort to spy on the Tinker. I even had a chance to overhear him talking with Fiona and Mary. It was frustrating.
"Should we try to see him?" Fiona had asked as they walked by me.
Mary put her arm around Fiona, saying, "You know what Professor Flitwick told us, it will only make him worse."
"She's right Fiona." the Tinker said, "He's the first real friend I've ever had, and now I can't even say hello to him."
"I know it must be hard for you, Gregory," Fiona said, "You don't have any family to turn to. I have plenty of family, but it still doesn't help."
"I can still wish he were better," The Tinker replied.
"Don't we all," said Mary as they turned the corner.
The lying diabhal was sharing their sympathy, as though he had no idea how it happened. I controlled my anger, taking comfort in knowing that it was only a matter of time before I got my hands on him. There had to be a way, and I would find it.
That is where things stood when I went to bed Friday night. I was lying in my usual position, facing the wall with my blanket over my head, when the door opened. I was eager to find out what the travelers were to find in Mirkwood, but instead of my late night story teller, I heard Ginny's voice.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know you were here," she said. "Do you mind if we talk for a bit? Well, if I talk, I know you can't talk. I just need to talk for a bit. I hope you don't mind?" Then I heard her sit down. "This is what it must have been like for Harry. He grew up in a closet, you know. Am I bothering you?"
As you know, I have a curse placed on me. I cannot speak to anyone, or gesture, or try to communicate in any way. If I do, I suffer a great deal of pain. As a side effect of the curse, anyone who tries to talk to me is overcome by a feeling of disgust. Ginny, to my regret, was another one of the few people immune to this part of the curse. But if she continued in this vein for much longer, I was fully prepared to stand up and demand that she get to the point. I would have thought her the least likely person to ramble.
"Owen, what is it about you and Neville. I keep trying to put the pieces together and the two of you are always there." She laughed lightly, adding, "I just asked a question to the only person who can't answer it. I'm sorry, Owen." Then she closed the door and lowered her voice.
"I'm afraid, and I don't know who to talk to. Everyone says Neville and I look good together. I keep denying it, and so does he, but I'm not sure anymore. I mean, it hasn't even been two weeks since we came back to school. I can't like Neville, not that way. He's almost a joke in this school." She paused, then added sadly, "at least he was. What if he doesn't like me? What if he thinks I'm only doing this now that he's popular?"
'What if you go back to bed and leave me alone?' I thought. I added one more thing to my things-to-do list for when I was cured: Ask Ginny Weasley why she sought advice on her love life from an eleven-year-old. I was willing to ignore that fact that I couldn't reply.
At that point, the door opened. It was my story teller.
"Ah, Miss Weasley," she said, "It is good to see that some of the students are making an effort to keep up the morale of our guest."
"Thank you, Professor McGonagall." Ginny said, "I guess I should be leaving now."
I should have realized who it was, reading to me, earlier than this. The Sorting Day seemed do long ago. I had not remembered her until now.
"Miss Weasley, if you would do me a favor, " McGonagall said, "I have been taking time I can ill afford, to read to young Owen. If you would take over this chore for me, I would appreciate it. I've marked the place in the book where I've left off. All you need to do is read the next chapter, aloud. And turn out down the lamp when you leave."
'Connhanaich Gael,' I thought, 'now I have to put up with her, all night.' But it turned out not to be that bad. Ginny had a freshness in her reading. I even appreciated her few comments, such as "Ron would love this." She said this right after a nasty scene with the spiders and the dwarves. I fell asleep to her singing Bilbo's taunts of "Lazy Lob and Crazy Cob."
I awoke early as I am wont to do, even though it was Saturday. The first thing I noticed was that the lamp had not been turned down. Carefully, I turned over, to see Ginny sleeping in the chair. Her feet were propped up on the table, barely missing the lamp. The book she had been reading was sitting open in her lap. I knew what had happened. She had become interested in the book, continued to read it, and had nodded off before she finished.
She was sleeping quite soundly, but I had a serious problem. I had a personal need to take care of, and the bathrooms, as well as the rest of the world, were on the other side of the closet door. The bed took up more than half the space of the closet. The chair on one side of the door, and the table on the other side, took up most of what was left. Ginny was stretched out across the remaining free space.
I could not risk waking Ginny, and I knew I could not wait for her to wake up. Therefore, I did the only thing I could. I tried to step over her. I leaned over and put my right hand on the door for support. After that, I lifted my right leg over, trying to set it down between the door and my uninvited guest. My leg was almost to the ground, when the door suddenly opened, and I lost my support. I immediately fell into Ginny's lap, my head barely missing her chin.
"Oh, they're still sleeping, 'Mione," said a very young voice. Ginny woke up with a start, looked me in the eye, and asked, "Owen, what do you think you're doing."
"Ginny, how could you? What will Neville say?" I heard Walter say, as several people started to laugh.
"Please, don't any of ye know how to knock?" I said, burying my head into Ginny's neck. I was mortified. I did not even realize that I had spoken.
I managed to get up, a difficult thing to do when everyone, including the person you've fallen on, is laughing at you. For the first time in to weeks, I was able to talk to somebody, and I did not want to talk to anyone.
As I got to my feet a blond buachaillin (1), I assumed it was Timothy, accosted me. "Hermione said we should be friends, OK?"
"Sure," I said, "I'll be friends with ye."
"OK, we're friends," He said, adding, "you talk funny."
"I don't talk funny, Glashtin (2)," I told him, "Ye be the one as talks funny. Just listen while ye talk and ye'll see." It was a long time since I used that voice, It always worked on Fergus, and by the way he was carefully saying words, It was working on Timothy as well.
"Get dressed," Hermione told me, "I'll explain over breakfast."
"Go mba seacht bhfearr a bheas tu blianin innui, (3)" I said.
"That sounded lovely," Hermione said, "what does it mean?"
"It's for when ye want to thanks to someone for being of great help. 'May ye be seven times better a year from today.' Thank ye, Hermione."
"You are more than welcome," she said, blushing at my compliment.
"How did it happen," I asked.
"Do you want the long version, or the short version?" Hermione asked.
"The long version," I said, "I hungry enough to bet you'll finish your story before I finish breakfast."
"Fine, It all started four years ago when I received my letter to Hogwarts." I rolled my eyes, and she let out a laugh. "You did say the long version," she said. "That was when I first met Fluffy. This year, when we had our first class in Care of Magical Creatures, Hagrid told us we needed to do a report. Each of us had to choose a magical creature to do our report on. I chose Fluffy. After all, how many three-headed dogs do you know. In addition, I could do my studying first hand instead of having to look everything up in books.
"Then Timothy showed up with Mrs. Weasley. Since I was at Hagrid's Hut observing Fluffy, Hagrid asked me to babysit Timothy."
"I'm not a baby," Timothy said, looking up from his pancakes.
"I know you're not, Timmy," she said, stroking his hair, "It's just a word we use to say I was taking care of you." Turning back to me she said, "That was how all the pieces came together. I had heard about your curse, but hadn't understood until I met you that day. I was so upset about what happened, that I missed the fact that Ron and the twins were being nasty to you, while Ginny and Neville were both acting normal."
She paused to wipe the syrup of Timothy's face, then asked Ginny to take him back to Hagrid. I thought it was cute, how he insisted on giving Hermione a hug, before he would leave.
"Your attitude has changed towards him," I said, reminding her of what she had said that night."
"Yes and No," she said, "He is still the smallest monster in existence, but I've taught him that my word is law."
"How?"
"It was easy to do. I simply told him that he had to do what I said. Then I repeated it. After hearing it about 200 times, he began to believe it. To be honest, I had an easier time teaching Fluffy to obey me."
"You've trained Fluffy, to do tricks and stuff."
"Oh yes," Hermione said with an evil glint in her eye, "but you've got to run pretty fast when he rolls over."
After I stopped laughing, she continued, "As I said, I missed out about the Weasley's being mad at you, until Harry told me about his experience. But it was on;y when Walter told me he felt the same anger when he tried to approach you, that I thought I might know what the solution was. It's funny, I'm still not sure what the problem was.
"I realized that the curse was selective. Only students were affected by the anger aspect. Of those only three, myself Ginny and Neville, were not affected. We three were also the only ones to come in contact with you, and with Timothy. It was a long shot, but I asked Walter to come with me to Hagrid's Hut to meet Timmy, and then to visit you in the Library. He came back saying he had talked to you, and that he felt no effects from the curse.
"I talked to Dumbledore about it, and he agreed that I should try my theory. I'm happy that it worked, but I do need to apologize. When we opened the door and saw you lying on top of Ginny, it was funny. But I shudder when I think of what would have happened if I was wrong."
"Hermione," I asked, "Why would my meeting Timmy break the curse." Hermione shrugged her shoulders.
"She doesn't know, and neither do I," said Dumbledore from behind me. "That is something we will have to figure out, Owen Dugh. Congratulations on your cure, and please stop by this afternoon for tea. We never had the opportunity that first day."
As though a signal had been given, the other students at the Gryffindor table came over to give me their congratulations as well. When Professor McGonagall appeared, I couldn't resist giving her a hug. She whispered into my ear that I could keep the book until I finished it. I told her I had to get it back from Ginny, first.
Other students came over. When she walked in, and found out what happened, Fiona rushed over, giving me a hug. She started to cry. Mary came over and gave me a hug as well. When she stepped back, I found myself facing the Tinker. I hit him. He put his hand up to his bleeding lip. I knocked his hand away, and hit him again. "Go hifreann leat (4)
," I shouted as he fell to the ground.
I heard Fiona gasp, and turned to look at her. She hit me.
"Why did you do that," She yelled. "After all the worrying Gregory went through."
"Are ye daft?" I yelled back, "He's the one who did it."
"I didn't do anything," the Tinker cried, blood streaming out of his nose. There was dead silence, except for his sobs, as he got up and ran away.
I felt a hand on my shoulder, and Albus said, "Perhaps, Owen, we should talk now." With that, he led me out of the Great Hall. He did not let go of me until we were inside his office.
Dumbledore sat me down. Taking his seat behind his desk, he folded his hands and looked sharply at me. "Owen, if you are up to it, why don't you explain what happened that night."
I began by telling how our quartet, the Tinker and Mary, myself and Fiona, left the great hall and walked to Ravenclaw house. When we entered our dorm and I saw there were bunk beds, I immediately grabbed a top bunk, the Tinker grabbing the one below me. All of us in the room quickly changed into our night clothes, and crawled into our beds. Everyone else was fast asleep in minutes, but I was too excited. I just lied there thinking over the events of the day.
At one point, I leaned over the side and looked down at the Tinker. He was sleeping on his side with his green box, the one he kept his pennywhistle in, in the crook of his arm. I noticed how the box was sticking him in the ribs, and thought to take it and put it on the night table.
I climbed down the short ladder and reached over for the box. A hand grabbed me by the throat. Instead of the Tinker, I saw a diabhal, grey-green with black on black eyes. "Thief," it yelled inside my head, "How dare you?" It flung me at the wall, and into it. I could feel the stones passing through my body, grating the insides of my bones. I was outside, suspended by the arm that was slowly choking me. I was dragged all through the air, down to the ground and back up again. I was pulled back through the wall, and thrown on the floor. "If you try to tell, I will seal your throat," it screamed at me.
I opened my eyes. I was in the common room, heaving my dinner onto the floor. The front of my nightshirt was damp from when I lost control. I staggered back to my dorm room and opened the door. The Tinker lay in his bed looking perfectly normal. Without moving his body, his head turned to look at me. He opened his eyes and they were black on black. I turned and ran.
1. Buachaillin (BOOWK- uh-leen) Meaning: little boy
2. Glashtin (GLAW-tin) Meaning: sprite
3. Go mba seacht bhfearr a bheas tu blianin innui (Gow maw sat var uh vas too BLAN-in IN-ney)
4. Go hifreann leat (Gow IF-ran laht) Meaning: Go to hell.
