Diary of a Discovered Girl
by Ash-Caro-Lynn
Chapter V : Of Injuries and Imposters
"It's so damn infuriating," I ranted. "He hasn't been in class for days, rumor has it he's got his arm in a sling – the cut wasn't that deep!"
"Mhm," replied Harry idly. I frowned.
"You're not listening, right?" I asked. He nodded.
"Yeah, I agree," he answered. I huffed.
"What's got your head up in the clouds? Professor Trelawney's death predictions? Our upcoming Charms test? A certain frumpy bookworm?" I followed his stare. "Ah, so the latter..."
"Yeah – wait, what?" I grinned.
"Harry's back to Earth, I see it," I teased. "Not off in Lala Land... or should I say, Granger Land... working title, obviously..."
His cheeks flushed red as my hair. "I wasn't thinking about her," he muttered, adjusting his books in his arms. "I was just – er – thinking about our Divination class!"
"Sure you were, Harry." I smirked, winking at him. "Sure you were. Don't worry, I can keep a secret. You know it's not in my nature to blab about how you fancy my best friend to the whole of my dormitory... just certain other Gryffindor third year girls. Like my best friend."
"I was not thinking about her," argued Harry, but I had already sped off with a glimmer in my eye.
A glimmer that was my joy at having yet another thing to hold over his head.
Because regardless of whether or not it's actually based on solid evidence, it's always fun to tease Harry.
"Ah, so the injured returns," I mumbled as Malfoy strolled into Potions class, his arm in the sling the gossip mill hadn't failed to inform me of. "Does he look like he lost a limb to you?"
"Not particularly, no," replied Harry.
"Hm... it's a wonder Madam Pomfrey let him take up one of her beds for that long. Last I checked, she rather enjoyed shooing people out of the Hospital Wing."
"I think that's just you." I frowned, crushing the snake fangs in the mortar a little harder than necessary.
"You mean you've never been told that it's after visiting hours, or that the patient you wanted to visit isn't taking visitors?" I asked curiously.
"Nope," he replied. "Granted, I don't usually visit the Hospital Wing when I'm not forced to by an injury."
"Wow," I mumbled. "Maybe you're right. After all, she told me Hermione wasn't taking visitors when she was Petrified..."
Harry laughed. "Well, one might think that with all the time you spend in the Hospital Wing, she'd have warmed up to you a bit."
"I don't actually spend that long in the Hospital Wing," I replied. "I mean, there was the time in first year after the incident with the Philosopher's Stone, and then the time in second year after the incident with the Chamber of Secrets – I've never had a Quidditch injury, though."
"I can change that, if you'd like." I laughed at Harry pretending to be threatening.
"You're a Seeker. What're you going to do, throw Snitches at me?" I giggled at the thought. "That would be hilarious... I can just see it making headlines... Harry Potter of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team Injures Willow Leavitt of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team With a Golden Snitch. Of course, you would be so secretly stealthy that they would never find out it was you. Someone would have to... wait for it... snitch on you."
He laughed. "Hey, um, is our cauldron supposed to do that?" I frowned, looking up at the pink smoke coming from the cauldron.
"No," I replied, reading through the instructions. "You added the porcupine quills too early! I need to stop distracting you!"
"Can it be saved?" I frowned.
"Maybe," I replied, rolling up my sleeves. "Dried Billywig stings and – where are those crushed snake fangs – ah, I'm crushing them. Well, that's convenient."
Harry passed me the blue bottle of Billywig stings, and I opened it, letting two drops fall into the cauldron before adding a measure of the crushed snake fangs. I frowned, crossing my fingers and letting out a sigh of relief as the pink smoke turned to cyan blue as the instructions described.
"Now, Harry," I said sternly. "I know I just saved our potion, but for goodness's sake, follow the instructions next time, alright?"
"I'll try my best," he replied, ladling it into the vial.
"Good," I replied. "Else I'll be testing our Swelling Solution on you."
He rolled his eyes. "Neither of us are particularly good at being threatening, are we?"
I laughed. "I'm totally intimidating, no clue what you're talking about..."
"QUIDDITCH!" I cheered, making my way out onto the Quidditch Pitch with my borrowed school broom (affectionately named Amelia), scarlet and gold Quidditch robes, and brother. "Isn't it so exciting? Feeling the wind rush through your hair as you fly to the goal post, or in your case, as you pursue the Snitch?"
"Wow, you weren't this enthusiastic about Quidditch back in first year," commented Harry. I laughed.
"Well, in first year I was only a reserve Chaser for the first game, and unconscious for the third," I replied. "But this is the practice we've all been waiting for! Well, not really... but we're finally going to hop back on our brooms and throw balls around fifty feet up in the sky when all that really matters is the tiny little gold one that you're supposed to chase around the pitch and eventually catch! Doesn't that just sound like a sport that makes a ton of sense to you?"
"Yeah, sure," replied Harry. "Actually, when you put it like that, it really does sound silly... I mean, they could at least try and keep us on the ground. Football would be a much safer sport."
"Football?" I repeated. "Isn't that the one where they kick the ball around and try and score on the nets on either end?" Harry nodded. "But... isn't it confusing when everyone's chasing the same thing around? Like, with Quidditch, everyone gets time with their element – I get to chase Quaffles, you get to chase Snitches, and Fred and George get to chase Bludgers."
"At least it's safer," replied Harry. "So... while we're discussing totally random topics... had any interesting dreams recently?"
"Yes, I just prophesied your death in my sleep," I replied dryly. "No, no particularly interesting dreams... just the usual... dreaming about studying... dreaming about reading..."
"So basically the same thing you do while you're awake?" I laughed.
"Pretty much," I replied. "Say, why is the entirety of the Gryffindor Quidditch team gathered around looking very irritable? I mean, we're not late, are we? Wood looks about to breathe fire."
"He always does," supplied Harry. It was true – our Quidditch Captain, Oliver Wood, was more passionate about Quidditch than Professor Snape was about potions. And Snape was practically obsessed with brewing. "That is, when it comes to Quidditch and Slytherin."
I nodded in agreement. "True, but this is true anger I only saw once – that was last year, when Slytherin stole the pitch to train Malfoy."
Harry frowned. "Aren't we going to be facing Slytherin?"
"Yeah..." I replied slowly. "Why? Didn't you know that already?"
"Isn't Malfoy out with his hippogriff injury?"
Sure enough, that was the case with the angry Oliver Wood and his Gryffindor Quidditch team.
"I can't believe it," mumbled Wood. "They choose to tell us this now – that we're facing Hufflepuff! We've prepared for Slytherin! Hufflepuff is completely different – they have different tactics, we can't be ready in a week!"
"Sheesh, it's just Hufflepuff," muttered George.
That was the completely wrong thing to say.
"Just Hufflepuff?!" repeated Wood, rounding on him. "I can't believe it! You're not taking this seriously! Hufflepuff is not a pushover! Diggory is a strong Seeker! And- What are you three doing?"
Angelina, Alicia and Katie were giggling like idiots. I rolled my eyes – it was, for some reason, common for the girls in higher years to have this reaction to Cedric Diggory.
"He's that good-looking tall one, isn't he?" asked Alicia.
"Strong and silent," added Katie as they continued their girlish giggling.
"He's only silent because he's too thick to be able to string two words together," muttered Fred. "I have no clue why you're worried, Oliver. Hufflepuff is a pushover – remember last time? Harry caught the Snitch in less than five minutes."
"This time, we'll be playing in completely different conditions!" shouted Wood. "Diggory has put a strong team together, and even though Harry beat him last time, he's an excellent Seeker... I knew you'd take it like this! We can't relax, we need to keep our focus. Slytherin is just trying to wrong-foot us! We have to win!"
For a moment, I was slightly alarmed by his ranting.
"Oliver, calm down," advised George.
"We're taking Hufflepuff seriously," I added for good measure, and Wood started to return to a normal breathing rate. "Very seriously."
And though he was rather calmed by those words, the practice during the pouring rain was the most exhausting out of every practice I had had.
Including the one at four in the morning back in first year.
"Alright, I want to see all of you back out here at five o'clock tomorrow," declared Wood as we trudged back into the change rooms after practice, dripping water and getting wet mud on the hems of our Quidditch robes.
"PM?" I asked hopefully. He shook his head.
"AM."
This was followed by a collective groan.
"So, the Hogsmeade visit is coming up soon," I mused aloud as Harry and I walked to Defence Against the Dark Arts. "What do you want to do?"
"Don't know," he replied. "We could... er... yeah, I've got nothing."
I giggled. "Well, that doesn't help much," I replied. "Say, I've got something for DADA that I'd like Professor Lupin's help with, maybe... that would exclude you, though..."
"Something that you'd like his help with?" repeated Harry curiously. "Are you struggling? 'Cause that Boggart-"
"It's nothing to do with Boggarts," I replied immediately. "Well, sort of... it involves fear... we'll discuss later. Hang back after class with me?"
"If it won't land me in detention," he replied with a shrug. I winked at him with a grin, and took a seat in the classroom.
"Professor Lupin-"
"Miss Leavitt-"
I giggled at how we had said each other's names in unison. He smiled weakly.
"You go first," I said with a smile.
"I was wondering if you could stay after class," he explained. I grinned, winking at Harry over my shoulder.
"I was going to ask exactly the same thing," I replied. "What did you need, professor?"
"I actually had a question – for both you and Harry." I raised an eyebrow, and Harry finally finished his excruciatingly slow process of putting his things away (slow on purpose, of course) and showed up at my side. "Well, the Hogsmeade weekend is coming up, and I heard the two of you hadn't gotten your permission slips signed... I was wondering if you could join me in my office for a cup of tea."
"Sure thing, professor," replied Harry.
"If," I added, "you would be willing to help me out with a thing or two in Defense Against the Dark Arts?"
"You aren't struggling, Holly," replied Professor Lupin, looking at me concernedly.
"It's not in the curriculum," I replied. "In fact, it's not even in the seventh years' curriculum... but if there's anyone that could teach me how to cast a corporeal Patronus, it's you."
"I-" He was lost for words.
"Assuming, of course, that you do know how to cast one," I gushed. "I mean, if you can't, it's quite alright, but the Dementors affect Harry and I more than anyone else and I was just wondering-"
He held up a hand, and I immediately stopped talking. "I can cast one," he said. "I assume you've done your research, though..."
I nodded. "The Patronus charm is a highly difficult one to master, even for many adult wizards. The youngest wizard to date was only sixteen when he managed to conjure a fully formed corporeal Patronus," I recited. He nodded.
"That being said, it's very likely that you won't be able to actually produce one-"
"But could you at least try and teach me?" I asked. "Pleeeeease?"
He sighed. "I suppose I could, Pu- Holly," he replied. I frowned at how he had slipped up again, but didn't say anything. "Harry, would you like to learn as well?"
"Absolutely," replied Harry determinedly. "At one o'clock, then?"
"I'll see the two of you then."
Ron and Hermione had gotten their permission slips signed, and so Harry and I watched them leave for Hogsmeade the next day, both of them promising they'd bring us back something.
After the last carriage had departed, I turned to Harry, affixing him with a frown. "Reckon we should get going to Professor Lupin's office, then?"
"Sounds good to me," he replied. "Race you there?"
I smirked. "Oh, you're on, Harry," I replied, and started to run.
"No fair! I hadn't said go!" he called after me.
"I'd have won even without a head start!" I taunted.
"Go ahead."
"I think I'll let you."
"Go on."
"Make me."
"Afraid?"
Our infamous argument – well, not exactly infamous nor an argument, more so an unavoidable challenge that we initiated far too often – was interrupted as Professor Lupin opened the door.
"Come in, come in," he said, stepping back and gesturing us in. "Tea?"
"Aren't we... here for tea?" I asked, looking at Harry curiously. "We were here for tea, weren't we? Goodness, did I completely forget the purpose of our visit? Aren't you supposed to-"
Harry laughed. "We'll take two cups," he said to Professor Lupin, who chuckled a little before filling a couple of tea cups, which he handed to my brother and I.
"Professor," spoke up Harry as he gratefully took the drink, "how come Holly and I were the only ones who didn't get to face our Boggarts?"
I frowned for a moment, wondering if we had really been the only ones, before I realized that, indeed, we had been.
Had he been worried about what we would have been afraid of?
"Well," replied Professor Lupin, evidently hesitant about how to breach the topic, "I was worried that the two of you... would, well, fear Voldemort." I gasped.
"You... said his name..." I breathed, staring at him with with wide eyes as I took a deep drink of the tea he had given me.
"Sorry if I scared you, Pu- Holly," he said quickly.
"We're not afraid of Voldemort's name," replied Harry.
"Why is she rocking back and forth like that?" asked Professor Lupin. Harry frowned, turning to face me.
"Holly?"
"Boo!"
"EEK!"
He laughed, an odd bark-like chuckle.
"Sorry if I scared you, Pup," he said, ruffling her hair with a large hand. "You've got to admit it, Prongs, she's far too jumpy."
Another laugh– a deep, hearty one that hushed her whimpers and filled her with a sense of comfort.
"Let's just hope she never meets Mad-Eye, Padfoot."
My eyes suddenly snapped open as I sat up with a shudder.
The tea cup I had been drinking from was now in Professor Lupin's hands as he frowned at me concernedly.
"I-" I looked around the room, trying to reassure myself that I was, in fact, back in Professor Lupin's office. "Sorry, I just kind of – spaced out there."
Harry raised an eyebrow at me but didn't question it.
"Where were we?"
"I was just telling you that the reason I didn't want the two of you to face the Boggart was because I didn't want Voldemort to appear," explained Professor Lupin, cautiously handing back the tea. Harry laughed weakly.
"To be honest, I'm more worried about the Dementors right now," he replied. I nodded in agreement.
"Odd," mused Professor Lupin. "Afraid of Dementors... the very embodiment of fear... you fear fear, Harry. Very wise." He cast his gaze to me. "What about you, Holly?"
"Boggarts," I replied immediately. "He's afraid of fear, I'm afraid of being afraid..."
He raised an eyebrow. "I see," he replied. "Well, that should make this much easier. Your fear is so similar to Harry's that a Boggart would likely take the form of a Dementor and, when faced with you, keep that form..."
"So, you're going to have us fight a Boggart Dementor for practice in producing Patronuses?" I asked for confirmation. He nodded.
"But before we can even consider starting that, there's a vital portion of the spell casting that has nothing to do with your magical ability or bravery... but rather, what's on the inside."
"You're going to need to think of a happy memory – not just acing a pop quiz, or a delectable meal – but a powerful memory that fills you with a sense of joy."
"What's yours, Professor?" asked Harry curiously. Professor Lupin just shook his head.
"That's for another time," he replied. "And-"
The door swung open, and Professor Snape entered without even knocking with a steaming goblet. I frowned at it as it was set on the desk.
"Thank you, Severus," said Professor Lupin, and Snape nodded briskly before leaving the room. "I suppose it'll be about time for the two of you to leave now... how does next Sunday sound, at the same time?"
"Sounds good, professor," chimed Harry and I.
"We'll be there," continued Harry.
"With our happy memories," I finished, and Harry and I left the office.
"What was that?" asked Harry as he closed the door behind us.
I slid down against the wall, tucking up my knees and resting my chin on them. "I had another – one of those resurfacing memories... it was Padfoot."
"But – don't you usually have them while you're asleep?" asked Harry confusedly. I nodded.
"This time, I had a trigger," I replied. "Remember what Professor Lupin said? 'Sorry if I scared you, Pu-.' I guess the voice was familiar and my mind linked it to a voice from a similar time frame saying almost the exact same thing."
"'Sorry if I scared you, Pup.'"
Harry stared. "He was trying to call you 'Pup?'" he asked. I nodded. "Well, that's... wow..."
"Yeah." I sighed. "Now that I've had a ton of strange memories, I really am considering dropping Divination." Harry laughed.
"If I had a ton of other classes to fall back on, I'd feel the same way," he replied.
"I can't believe they'd wait until a week before the match to tell us we're going up against Hufflepuff instead of Slytherin," ranted Harry. I raised an eyebrow, listening to his ramblings with half an ear as we walked out to the pitch. "And there's not even anything wrong with Malfoy's arm!"
"They're Slytherins," I replied with a shrug. "What did you expect? Them to act all noble and inform us the day Malfoy was slashed that he would be unfit to participate?" I frowned. "They probably didn't expect him to be out so long, anyway. After all, he shouldn't have been."
The stands were already half filled with cheering fans – I saw a wave of red and gold that could only be the Gryffindors, and a yellow and black group (looking rather like a bumblebee) on the other side.
"Gryffindor will be versing Hufflepuff today," rang out Lee Jordan's voice – the twins' friend was the Quidditch commentator. "They would have been going up against Slytherin, but the snakes chickened out-"
"JORDAN!" shouted McGonagall. Ah, how I had missed the liveliness of Quidditch and the sassiness of the commentator and the general exhil- I should stop rambling.
Harry and I joined the rest of the team out on the pitch, gathering around Madam Hooch (the Flying coach).
"Captains, shake hands," she instructed, and the guy who the girls had described as 'strong and silent' stepped forward, shaking hands with Wood.
"Mount your brooms." Harry shot me a look as he put his leg over his, as I was trying very hard not to laugh at her wording. She let go of the Snitch, blowing her whistle loudly, and all fourteen Quidditch players kicked off from the ground, Katie Bell of Gryffindor catching the Quaffle as soon as it was let up and speeding off towards the other end of the pitch.
The match had begun.
"We're about an hour into the match, and Gryffindor leads 120-70!" I grinned as the crowd cheered. "No sign of the Snitch from either side."
"Holly," Harry said quickly, flying up to me. I frowned.
"What?" I asked. He took a hand off his broom, using it to point to the ground. I gasped.
Barely visible were four hooded figures.
"Dementors," I breathed. "Harry, are – are you alright?"
He looked like he had just seen a ghost (well, that's probably not a very good example, seeing as there were plenty of ghosts within Hogwarts), and suddenly his broom flew off without him as he fell to the ground.
Cheering went up in the crowds, but I was oblivious to it as the whole of the Gryffindor team sped to the ground, gathering around where he had hit the ground. Thankfully, one of the professors had managed to cast a charm to cushion his fall, but he was still unconscious.
"Why are they cheering?" muttered Fred. One look up to the sky answered his question.
Diggory had caught the Snitch.
"Good thing the ground was cushioned."
"Thought he'd be dead for sure." I shot Fred a look for his unnecessary comment. "But his glasses didn't even break! That's a good thing!"
"Quiet, he's waking up," I hissed, looking at Harry, whose pained expression clearly revealed the fact. He opened his eyes, blinking a couple of times. "How you feeling, Harry?"
"What happened?" he asked, sitting up so suddenly that the girls took a step back.
"There were Dementors, and you fell off your broom," explained Angelina Johnson, another Chaser.
"Must have been fifty feet," supplied Alicia Spinnet.
"We thought you'd died." I shot George a look. "Well, I did, at least."
"What happened to the Dementors?" asked Harry.
I frowned, looking to the others. I hadn't actually seen what had happened.
"Dumbledore cast a Patronus, and the giant silvery phoenix scared them off," explained Fred.
"Alright, leave him in peace," said Madam Pomfrey, the mediwitch, shooing most of the still robe-clothed Quidditch team from his bed. Hermione, Ron and I didn't move, and she sighed. "I suppose you can stay... five minutes!"
"Did anyone get my Nimbus?" asked Harry after she had left. Ah, typical Harry. More worried about his broom than himself. I looked to Ron and Hermione, who shook their heads.
"Well, when you fell off, your broom blew away..." Hermione looked forlorn. "And, oh, Harry – it hit the Whomping Willow."
"Of all the trees it could have hit, it had to be the one that hit back," I mumbled. "You and that tree have a bad relationship."
Harry looked so sad one would think he had lost a beloved pet rather than a broomstick.
He had had that broom since first year, when he had made it on to the team.
"Alright, everyone out!" said Madam Pomfrey, shooing us away. I sent Harry a sad smile as I waved goodbye.
Poor thing.