Chapter Twelve
Beginning to Heal
Harry went to classes.
Harry did homework for his classes.
When Harry didn't understand something, he asked for help.
Harry fought with himself, constantly afraid of humiliation but knowing that asking for help shouldn't be seen as humiliating.
Harry played Quidditch.
Harry loved Quidditch.
Harry studied Latin, Egyptian, Greek, Sanskrit, Babylonian, Gobbledygook and Mermish under the guidance of Professor Babbling.
Outside of his guided study, Harry read fairy tales, devoured Tolkien, and began acquainting himself with Gaelic, Chinese, Hebrew, and Arabic.
Harry spend time with his friends, people who would become his friends, and people he barely knew.
From the time he woke up to the time he fell into bed, Harry was busy and he loved it.
Even with the threat of Sirius Black looming over everyone in the castle, Harry threw himself into his third year and loved it.
o.o.o.o.o.o
The first play practice was the Saturday after auditions. The magic crew was meeting in Professor Flitwick's office and all of the actors were supposed to report to a huge room on the second floor that was hardly ever used. When Harry arrived at the auditorium, he almost died in shock. He hadn't even known that Hogwarts had an auditorium. Professor Sinistra, as the staff director of the play, was waiting for the students. Harry had walked over with Pavarti, because he was trying to honestly like her and Lavender, but her constant talk of stuff he had no way of understanding was hard to handle.
As soon as was politely possible, Harry left her and latched on to Able, Queenie and Eliza who were standing center stage and looking out at the empty auditorium. "It's fascinating," Eliza was saying, to Queenie. Able nodded in response, but Harry never did find out what, exactly, was fascinating. More people started arriving. Harry noticed two girls, probably second years, hanging off to the side of the group. They both looked terrified. They weren't looking terrified together though, which was a bit odd. Harry left his friends and worked his way over to the first of the two girls. Before he could introduce himself, the girl did it for him. "Lord Potter," she said, looking down. Her robes were green and silver. Slytherin.
"Hi. Will I have to instruct you to treat me like an equal, or are you comfortable just ignoring that slightly awkward fact?"
The girl looked up, her eyes flashing with some emotion. Then she just shrugged. "I'm Gracelyn of the Noble and Ancient House of Zale. Please, call me Grace."
"Awesome, call me Harry. You're Emerald's sister, aren't you?" There was a first year Gryffindor named Emerald Zale.
"Yes. She is my younger sister. Horizon, fifth year, is my older sister."
"Want to come with me and stop the nerves of another kid?" He discretely gestured to the other girl.
"That's an Ingraham," Grace said, skeptical. "I can't—"
"She a nomah?" Harry asked.
"Yeah," Grace affirmed.
Harry was actually a little surprised that the abbreviation was used outside of Slytherin. "Well, same here," Harry said. He moved the few steps across the hall to great the Hufflepuff 2nd year. It seemed odd to have a Slytherin showing deference to a Hufflepuff, but Harry still didn't really understand the whole noble system. Grace followed him across the stage and stopped just a few feet away from the Hufflepuff girl. He knew he'd seen her name on the cast list, but he honestly couldn't remember what it was. "Hi, Miss Ingraham?"
"Yes, Mr. Potter, what can I do for you?"
"Call me Harry, for one. You know Grace?"
The Hufflepuff nodded. "We do attend classes together." She smiled at Gracelyn. "You're quite accomplished in Herbology."
Grace nearly squeaked.
"We're all students here," she said, with a slight roll of her eye. "Could you please not treat me like I'm so much better than you?"
Hesitantly, Grace nodded.
"I like you," Harry said, smirking. He stuck out his hand. "Hi, I'm Harry."
"Artemis," she said, shaking his hand. "But informally, I go by Emi."
By then, nearly the whole cast had arrived. Selene Grant was watching him and Gracelyn with a cautious, thoughtful look on her face. She seemed slightly surprised that he would willingly talk with a Slytherin over his Gryffindor friends. The Patil twins were standing together, chatting away. Able, Queenie and Eliza were still center stage. Eric Kettleburn caught Harry's eye and smiled, but returned to his conversation with the seventh year Slytherin that would be playing the villain. Daphne Greengrass, one of the third year Slytherins, stood loosely connected to Padma and Pavarti, but not really a part of their duo. And Harry didn't really know anyone else. No, wait, that was one of the fourth year Ravenclaw boys. Ed-something.
Harry mentally slapped himself. He'd met too many people; he was starting to forget them!
Professor Sinistra ordered everyone together before directing them to different parts of the stage. The main heroes of the story, Godric, Helga, Rowena, and Faolan stayed in the center. Harry was directed to the left right stage with the boy playing Salazar and the girl playing Princess Arianna. It was judgmental, but the three of them were portrayed as the villains of the play. When everyone was divided up, Professor Sinistra ordered everyone to circle back together, just stay in their respective groups. Harry ended up between Salazar's actor and Eric, who had Godric's role. The auditorium seemingly conjured chairs for everyone to sit in and Sarah Bathsheba passed out scripts. She was there as assistant director, apparently, and would be bouncing back and forth between the actors and the magic crew.
The first read through went spectacularly well. Pavarti and Padma had some problems with the pronunciation of a few of their chants, but they promised to work on it and no one really worried about it. Harry didn't have many lines, but the ones he did have were powerful and creepy. He even got to hiss. While it wasn't nearly as fun as Quidditch, Harry still had a blast.
Towards the end of the reading, the Hufflepuff playing Prince Matthew leapt from his seat in rage, screaming at the Princess Arianna. The girl stared at him, forgetting she had the next line. He was just so in character.
"Relax, Ced," said the girl playing Helga. "Don't scare Sammie like that."
The kid blushed and sat back down.
Samantha Fawcett started with her line, stuttering, but managed to slip back into her screaming match with Cedric Diggory fairly quickly.
Big Sarah was nearly ecstatic at the end of practice with how well it had gone. And, while she kept it pretty hidden, Harry knew his guardian was very pleased as well. He left the auditorium with Able, as Queenie and Eliza had been invited by some of the other girls to join them in the library. A few steps away from the auditorium, the Ed-guy caught up with Harry and Able. "That was fun, right?"
"Yeah," Able said, nodding. "Anything you need, Eddie?"
That was it! Harry felt immensely grateful he wouldn't be asked to refer to the kid by name and not know what the name actually was. "Nope," Eddie said, "Well, yes, actually. Although, it's just an invitation." He straightened his shoulders. "We're forming teams for the annual Ravenclaw Intelligence Bowls." Both Able and Harry stared, perfectly capable of believing Ravenclaws turned their smarts into competitions, but not really wanted to acknowledge what that meant. "And, well, Paul decided that this would be a good year to allow invites to be extended to other houses. And then Adrianna argued was that if that was the case, there'd have to be a minimum and maximum set on the number of out of house students allowed to compete—"
"Eddie," Able said, "the point." The three of them had stopped walking by then.
"Right, sorry," Eddie grinned. Apparently, he got called out on babbling a lot. "I'd like to invite both of you to compete on the team that I'm entering in the third and fourth year division."
Harry's stomach dropped. Another something to do? Still, it was interesting. Depending on what Able did—
Able narrowed his eyes, almost suspiciously. "What does that require from us?"
"Nothing. Just biweekly meetings in the library with me, Nora, and Persephone and participation during the actual competitions; they're scheduled around Quidditch and such-like, so don't worry. It's five people a team, and every team has to have at least one outsider and can have up to three. Actually, the Carmichael Team – we're changing the name, first order of business – will have more outsiders than Ravenclaws. So, please, please, please say you'll do it!"
"What competition are you up against?" Harry couldn't help it. He'd been playing Quidditch for too long.
Eddie grinned. "Well, the team that's favored is led by Su Li. Let me tell you, the way she called dibs on Hermione Granger was downright scary." Harry and Able laughed, nearly hysterically. "She used Granger as bait to get Lance on her team, and Elizabeth Higgs. I think her fifth member will end up being Morag. Mandy and Morag are fighting for that spot though; Su hasn't decided who to officially invite. Anyway, Su's team is heavily favored."
Harry blinked. "This is a big thing, isn't it?"
Eddie's grin turned almost feral. "For us? It's nearly as big a Quidditch. The seventh and sixth years share a division, but it's less than half the size of the third and fourth years. The fifth years don't get to compete unless they're invited up. The second and first years have their own division too. We're gonna need a whole weekend for that competition, there's so many youngsters. So, you two in?"
"Sure," Harry said, not really knowing what he was saying. He really, really, really, desperately needed to learn how to say NO!
"I'll do it," Able said, grinning, "although, I'm only doing it to keep Harry sane."
At that moment, Anthony Goldstein ran up and stopped beside them, panting. "Eddie! I called Potter!"
"You heard the ruling!" Eddie shot back. "Paul said it was at the same time and first come first served. And we were allowed to start asking others as soon as play practice ended."
A queasy feeling twisted into Harry's stomach. Anthony huffed. "Fine." Turning to Harry, he shrugged. "I won't blame you. Still friends, right mate?"
"Definitely."
Anthony ran off.
Able turned to Eddie, "Are you sure this isn't bigger than Quidditch?"
Eddie started to say something, but Harry just laughed. He laughed in one of his best friend's faces because he was so, so wrong. This was nowhere near as competitive as Quidditch.
…he hoped.
o.o.o.o.o.o
He knew that particular screaming didn't come from his dream. Besides, his clock said it was barely 2:30am. On Sunday morning. He rarely ever woke up this early, even with all the dreams. So why was someone screaming? Harry rolled out of the confines of the curtains and grabbed robes to throw on over his pajamas. Able and Neville were both poking their heads out of the curtains, but Cormac showed no alertness whatsoever. "I'll see what it is," Harry said, to his still mostly asleep roommates.
The screaming was almost certainly coming from the common room.
Harry pushed open the door and peered down through the dark hallway of the boys' dorm. William pushed passed him and took the steps down to the common room two at a time. Kenneth and some of the less heavy sleepers were gathered at the top of the stairs, as if debating whether or not to go down. Harry went down. No one really followed him. The middle of the common room was chaos. Pieces of dry parchment filled the air, creating some sort of artificial white-out. William was pressed against the common room wall.
"It's dangerous! It's dangerous!" The screams were loud, audible, and Harry knew precisely who it was. He pushed away from the wall, ignoring William's order not to proceed into the white out. He heard someone screaming for Professor McGonagall. Someone else was screaming at the screamer, trying to get her to stop. Harry knew that wouldn't work. He made it to the center of the common room.
Ginny Weasley slashed her wand at yet another diary. It exploded, showering more and more pieces of parchment and covering into the air. Zia Anya stood a few paces away, backing away, looking increasingly more horrified. Ruth Turpin stood over Ginny, screaming. That was all Harry could see. He plowed forward, pushed Ruth away, and snatched Ginny's wand before she had the chance to destroy another diary.
She lunged, snapping for her wand. "I hate you!" Ginny shrieked. "I hate you I hate you I hate you! GIVE ME BACK MY WAND!" One of the benefits of being a third year was that you were short and sixth years were tall. Ruth Turpin grabbed the wand from Harry's outstretched hand and made a break for it. Ginny lunged after her, but Harry leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her waist, holding her still. One of the benefits of being a third year was that most of the second year girls were smaller than you. Still, Ginny fought. She didn't have sixth brothers for nothing. Her arms flailed, elbows catching him in the jaw, nails digging into hands, heels pounding again and again against his legs. "LET ME GO! I HATE YOU, HARRY POTTER!"
"Calm down, Ginny," Harry said, his voice unmistakably calm. "You need to calm down."
"I HATE YOU!"
"You don't," Harry persisted. Inside, his stomach roiled in revulsion. She probably did hate him. She had every right to hate him. "You hate Voldemort. You hate Tom. Tell me, Ginny. Tell me you hate Tom." Her screams turned inaudible, her fighting increased uncontrollably. She shook. "It's okay, Ginny. I know it hurts. I know you want that year back. Please, Ginny, let us help you. It's not," he swallowed, "it's not a humiliation to ask for help. We care, Ginny. We care about your safety and your health and we want to help. Please let us help you heal."
Her screams quieted. She broke into shuddering, horrific sobs. "I hate Tom," she said, the words choked out of her like a burning fire. "I hate him. I hate him so much it scares me."
"I know," Harry whispered. She had stopped fighting now and just hung there, still held tight in his arms. "I know, I hate him too."
Ginny turned in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and just cried onto his shoulder, still shaking. "I'm sorry, Harry. I'msorrysorry—"
"You have nothing to be sorry for," Harry said, tightening his hug. She continued crying. The white storm of parchment started to settle. As the seeming artificial snow settled, Harry was faced with the rather angry eyes of over a dozen Gryffindors. Emma MacDonald stood by the portrait hole. She, William, and Patricia Stimpson were the only ones who looked like they had a clue as to what just happened. Everyone else, all girls, all ranging from years, looked mad. All of the second year girls were assembled, Clara and Clementine seemed bloodthirsty, Zia looked defeated, betrayed, and more than a little mad, Sarah bit her lip as if she didn't want to be mad, but couldn't help it. Ginny didn't notice any of this. She was too busy crying.
McGonagall arrived. She took in the sight of the littered common room and Harry holding a crying girl with only a raised eyebrow. "Miss MacDonald, could you please explain?"
Emma swallowed but stepped forward. "Some twenty minutes ago, I woke up to a theft alert going off. I wasn't particularly worried, but out in the hallway, Ruth and Temperance both had the same problem, and Patricia. No one else had the spells cast, but a lot of diaries and journals and the like were missing. That's when the screaming started. We made it down to the common room and there was Miss Weasley, screaming that the various diaries were dangerous and had to be destroyed. As you can see, she destroyed them." Emma's tone was flat. Dangerous. Deadly. Flat. "The second year girls came down next. We sent Temperance off to get you and Ruth tried to calm Ginny down, but it didn't work. A few minutes later, Harry came down and started talking about this guy named Tom and he got Ginny to calm down and… it stopped snowing." Her voice remained flat. Emotionless. Harry knew it was hiding more than a little emotion.
Ginny looked up from Harry's shoulder. She stared around at the other Gryffindor girls and seemed to shrivel inside herself. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice hitching. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."
"Miss Weasley," McGonagall said, softly, "I think we might be best served if you spend the rest of the night in the hospital wing. Will you come with me?" Ginny nodded and moved towards their head of house. She looked utterly dejected. "Emma," McGonagall murmured, "I trust you can handle the vanishing of this parchment." Emma looked like there was nothing else she wouldn't rather do, but she nodded. McGonagall took Ginny through the door that connected the common room to the hospital wing. Harry sagged.
"Evanseco," Emma said. Most of the little papers disappeared.
"I can't believe she did that!" Clara cried, wringing her hands through the air. "That little bi—"
"Shut up," Patricia Stimpson growled. Everyone turned to the widely recognized quietest Gryffindor. Patricia rarely spoke, even when she had to. "Just shut up and looked at it from Weasley's perspective. If I hear one hint of any of you," her words here seemed more directed towards Ruth, Temperance, Lavender, Pavarti and the rest of the older girls, than the other second years, "treating Weasley poorly because of this, you won't know what hit you. Are we clear?"
The second years nodded. Sarah didn't, but her rather terrified expression was enough. The older girls nodded as well.
Emma stepped forward, "Everyone back to bed, okay? Just… keep quiet for the rest of the night, all right? If there are problems, they can be dealt with in the morning." The girls obeyed her and went upstairs. That left just Emma and William and – somewhat to Harry's confusion – Percy Weasley standing in the common room. Emma made it five feet before she sank into a chair.
"The rest of us need sleep as well," Percy said, somewhat pompously.
"So go to sleep," Emma said, glaring at Percy. "Just go."
Percy went. When Emma didn't order him up to bed, Harry tentatively sat down in an armchair across from her, while William joined her in the single chair. "Harry," Emma said, quietly, "am I going to regret asking why is it always you?"
"If you find the answer, I'd like to know," Harry grimaced. His words came out dry and sour. "As would Aurora and Professors McGonagall and Hooch and Lupin and Flitwick and Sprout and Madam Pomfrey. Hermione wouldn't mind knowing. I'm sure Snape would nearly kill to know." He shrugged. "Let me know when you find the secret."
Emma half-smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "You're a good kid, Harry, no matter what people say about you."
"It's a little weird," he admitted, "using a supposedly 'dark talent' in a school play."
"I can imagine."
No, Emma, you really can't, Harry couldn't help but think. He hissed.
Emma made a face, but William stayed perfectly calm. Oh, the benefits of being muggleborn. "Okay, that's a bit weird. Don't you have to have a snake to speak Parseltongue?"
"Yes," Harry said, shortly. William turned away, hiding a grin that was spreading across his face. He had guessed that Harry was just making it up as he went along.
"…Where's the snake?"
"I didn't actually say anything." Harry said. "But no one really knows what Parseltongue is, so… I guess I can pretty much fake it and make it believable."
Emma stared.
"Harry," William said, distracting his girlfriend, "if you going to be lucid around my Quidditch-crazy roommate in the morning, you should head to bed."
Harry did as he was asked. Neither Neville nor Able were still awake when he got to the dorm room. Cormac didn't even stir. Harry collapsed on his bed, rolled into the comforts and pressed his head against a pillow. And for the first time… he couldn't fall asleep. All his problems rooted in the nightmares and waking up from sleep. He'd never not been able to fall asleep unless it was early morning – which this was – and after a nightmare – which this wasn't. So maybe this was just an early morning thing. Harry sighed and rolled over. It didn't help. He still couldn't sleep.
He did try. But about half an hour after returning to his dorm room, Harry slipped out from his curtains, scribbled a note to Neville on a piece of parchment, grabbed his invisibility cloak and headed out of the Gryffindor Tower. It had been a night like this last year that Aurora had caught him wandering, late last year. She hadn't gotten him in trouble. She'd only forced him to explain his nightmares to her and only her. She hadn't betrayed him. She trusted him about knowing where the Chamber of Secrets was. It hadn't been her fault Dumbledore refused to act. Subconsciously, he knew that his feet were taking him to the bottom of the Astronomy Tower, but he didn't really acknowledge that until he ended up standing outside of the hidden door to his guardian's private chambers. The portrait recognized him as soon as he pulled the cloak away from his head. "She isn't in, Mr. Potter."
Harry glanced up the stairs, but didn't feel like climbing to the observatory. "Let me in anyways?"
The portrait hissed, but swung open, apparently having been instructed to admit him. Harry dropped the cloak over the back of one of the chairs in the darkened room. A small fire burbled in the middle of a side wall. Harry liked Aurora's sitting room. It was small and there were only two chairs, but he liked it, none the less. He curled into one of the chairs, closed his eyes, and managed to block out the world in a horrible, restless state of consciousness that only semi-resembled sleep. Still, it wasn't sleep.
Harry phased in and out of consciousness, alternating between shivering with fear and holding himself perfectly still, not daring to move. He didn't know what he was so terrified… Vernon… Petunia… Dudley… the dementors… the light… Voldemort… Hermione dying… That last thought jerked Harry up out of his cycle. He didn't want Hermione to die. He didn't want anyone to die. But he couldn't help thinking about it. He kept conjuring pictures of his friends, all dead; Sarah, Paradise, Neville, Able and so many others. He couldn't handle it. Struggling to breath, Harry reached for his wand and cast five quick patroni. Caradoc, Flutterbunny, Kleio, Aegisa, and Orion circled around him, providing at least some comfort.
Harry sank back into the armchair, able to find some peace from the horrific thoughts, but not a lot. He slipped back into the semi-unaware state which really wasn't sleep.
When Aurora Sinistra arrived at the chamber door, she could instantly see the silver glowing light between the cracks of her door. Before she could inquire of the portrait, he mumbled "Mr. Potter entered about an hour ago. He has yet to leave."
That wasn't good. "Open," Sinistra ordered, impatient. As her door swung open, she dashed into her sitting room. All of Harry's now school-wide famous patroni circled one of her armchairs and the little boy huddled within one, shivering. He looked so small and broken and restless and hurting. "Harry?" Aurora whispered, pressing a hand to his forehead. His skin felt hot to the touch. "Harry, wake up." He darted away, fear widening his eyes until he found Aurora's face, recognized it, and relaxed just enough. "What's wrong?"
"Couldn't sleep," Harry mumbled, exhaustion blurring his words together. "And then everyone was dying. I kept seeing everyone dying. I don't want anyone to die." He searched for comfort and his guardian folded her into her arms, nearly crying at how Harry had to feel. The poor boy never could catch a break. She re-situated herself, claiming the chair her own and letting Harry curl around her and fall back asleep on her shoulder. The three patroni remained, their silver light intensifying the normal glow of the fire. Oh, her extraordinary kid… She cried for him.