I do not own the Harry Potter series or Pokémon.
Chapter Seventeen: Other People
"Sorry that I pulled you away from the Quidditch match."
"Don't be. I'd much rather be anywhere other than outside right now."
Moon and Fawley were sitting at a table, drinking tea and flipping through the assembled files on their test groups. The venom supply was restocked and waiting on a nearby shelf. They were reviewing the results of weeks of observation.
"Pouring venom into the bloodstream is a no-go?" Moon asked, fingers tracing over the section mentioning Aldric's reaction.
Patient noticeably more aggressive directly following treatment. Trouble understanding instructions for a week after first dose.
"I know that's what you were hoping for, but we can't have a bunch of aggressive semi-werewolves on our hands," the healer said. "Now, inhalation doesn't work at all, and having the venom absorbed through the skin uses roughly three times as much as any of the other methods. Ingesting it seems to be the most effective, but…"
"The fatigue experienced afterward lasts for weeks."
"It wears off eventually," Fawley continued, "but having someone bedridden for a minimum of a week with several more weeks of exhaustion following that doesn't sit right with me."
"Couldn't we just supply them with potions to treat fatigue and then send them home?"
Fawley rested his head in his hands, his brown eyes sharpening into a glare.
"Moon," he said slowly, "when this cure comes out, do you know what could happen?"
"A horrible disease gets eradicated?"
"The Ministry hates werewolves," he stated, "and even though things like the Wolfsbane Potion and safe houses exist, people need to register themselves as werewolves to access them. If they register, they immediately are banned from jobs with living wages, and most can't work at low-paying jobs either because the store owners are so bigoted. They are forced to choose between two different kinds of hell.
"Now, let's say we do go through with this method, having people on bedrest for weeks or on Invigorating Draughts. The Ministry is going to insist all werewolves on the Registry go to St Mungo's and get cured. Most of these people don't have homes to go back to, and so they'll have to stay here until the effects wear off. Meanwhile, the people not on the registry have to wait until there's a spot open, wait until an opportune moment when they can sneak in and admit they need the cure. They're pushed to the back of the line because they wanted to be treated as normal human beings."
The healer let out a long breath. "I don't want people to suffer longer than they have to."
Moon observed Fawley. Although a normally cheery person, he was prone to ranting, especially on the topic of werewolves. Most wizards and witches had a negative opinion on those with lycanthropy, but Fawley was almost defensive of them.
"Maybe we should start adding things to the venom," she suggested. "Powdered asphodel or moondew… things like that."
"Yeah," the healer said hoarsely. "Things like that."
The two began compiling a list of potential additions to the venom, crossing out some and scribbling others in the margins. Soon, it was time for Moon to return to the school.
"I'll write to you over the week," Fawley said, "and I'll let you know how the testing goes."
Moon was soon tumbling out of the fireplace she had been using to travel to St Mungo's. She brushed off the dust on her skirt and headed in the direction of the Great Hall, as it was nearly dinner. The people she passed in the hallway were whispering and muttering to each other, which she found odd.
Surely they would want to talk about who won the game? Most likely in loud, carrying voices?
She had to strain her ears to catch the whispers, meanwhile trying to appear as though she couldn't hear anything.
"Most amazing catch since…"
"—show-off! He's always—"
"Fell nearly fifty feet, Clearwater estimates…"
"Did he not see the Dementors? He flew right into them, you can't exactly miss…"
Moon shuddered involuntarily. She hadn't experienced the effects of the Dementors first-hand, but she knew enough about the creatures to know that it was best to stay away unless absolutely necessary.
Gryffindor won, then. Draco wouldn't willingly fly into a horde of Dementors.
Her thoughts were confirmed when she entered the Great Hall. The atmosphere was tense throughout the room, but the Slytherins were obviously sulking over their loss. The Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and most of the Gryffindors were still whispering among themselves. Two figures at the Gryffindor table stood out with their silence. Moon found herself sitting down near Hermione and Ron before she realized that she had made the decision to ditch the Slytherins for the night.
"Is Harry in the hospital wing?" she asked immediately, reaching for her food without looking at the table. Hermione nodded, her stricken expression speaking for her.
"Dementors somehow got onto the Quidditch pitch," Ron said, "and the Snitch was in their path, so Harry went after it. It was like he didn't even notice the Dementors until…"
"He fell," Hermione said. "He fell fifty-eight feet, off his broomstick, with the Snitch in his hand."
"Dumbledore managed to slow him down," Ron added, "but he still hit the ground pretty hard. He hasn't woken up yet, either."
"Dumbledore was really angry," Hermione said, "he shot some sort of spell at the Dementors to get them to leave."
"And Madame Pomfrey isn't sure when Harry will wake up," Ron said before spearing a carrot. "He might be unconscious from a concussion, but it's probably because of those bloody Dementors. He passed out the last time too, and that was just with the one. There had to have been a dozen swarming him."
Moon's eyes flickered between the two Gryffindors.
"Do you two have any idea why the Dementors affect him more than anyone else?" she asked in a whisper.
Hermione shook her head. "He didn't want to talk about it after the incident on the train."
"Can't imagine why," Ron said wryly, "he only passed out after the thing tried to steal his soul."
"Even if he doesn't talk about what happened on the train, do you know of anything that happened before then that could have caused it?"
"Let's see," Ron said, setting down his fork. "One," he ticked off his finger, "he nearly got killed at the end of first year by the Defence professor. Two, everyone thought he was trying to murder Muggle-borns just a year ago. Three, he had to fight a Basilisk using a sword last summer, nearly got his arm ripped off. And he has to deal with his bloody relatives all summer, so there's that."
Moon raised an eyebrow. "What do you know about Harry's relatives?"
"They're awful and Harry's happy to leave them."
Hermione frowned at Ron's response. "They're the only family he's got left."
"I thought every pure-blood family was related to some degree?"
"Well, yes, but they're the closest family he has," Hermione said. "Even if they don't get along all the time, he's safe there."
"Is he?" Ron said. "I literally had to break him out of that house before second year. They put bars on his window and locked him in his room. And he just blew up his aunt a few months ago, although he didn't say why."
"Blew up?"
"Inflated," Hermione corrected, "like a balloon. She had to be Obliviated afterwards, she didn't know about magic."
"I thought you said she's his aunt?" Moon asked, perplexed.
"The woman isn't really his aunt," Ron said. "It's just what he was told to call her."
"And did he mention why he blew up his not-aunt?"
"Said something about her being horrible, but not much else."
"And why do you want to know so much?" Hermione asked.
"He's a friend," Moon stated, "and if one of my friends is being hurt, or is in danger, or is just unhappy with their home life, I'd do anything to get them away from that place."
Ron's face twisted into something that was half-amused and half-irritated. "Friend? You call yourself his friend? You go waltzing off with Malfoy whenever it suits you and ignore Harry for a week. Is that what you do to your friends?"
"I can spend time with whomever I like!" she hissed, doing her best not to attract attention from the other Gryffindors. "And so what if I haven't talked with Harry for a week?"
"Whatever happened between you two during the Hogsmeade visit affected him greatly," Hermione said, "And you avoiding him has made it worse."
Moon drew back. Harry's emotional state that day had been rather raw, but he had appeared fine when they parted ways for dinner. She hadn't considered that he was still frustrated after he had seemingly calmed down from the outburst.
"And he hasn't talked to you about it?" she questioned.
"He's been surprisingly tight-lipped about the entire thing," Hermione replied. "And you haven't been around enough for us to get answers."
Moon opened her mouth to retort, but closed it just as suddenly.
Harry, the kid who had grown up with exactly two friends, both of which were sitting across from her, hadn't said a word to either of them. She had been certain that they would know within a few hours, and had been avoiding them for that very reason. She didn't want to bother with the questions, the pestering, the prying…
But he hadn't said anything.
Which, in its own way, was almost worse.
Moon ate one last bite of food before standing up suddenly. The shock didn't register on the Gryffindors' faces until she was halfway out of the Great Hall. She could hear the commotion begin as she went out the door, but didn't turn around to face it.
Harry hadn't said anything about her past, but he hadn't talked about why he became upset, and so the other golden Gryffindors would look to her for answers. And while she was absolutely free to tell them about her history, she had no right telling anyone about the things Harry shared with her, intentionally or not. She was glad that the pestering she had predicted would not come about just yet, but now she was being sought out for answers that weren't hers to give.
Harry telling his friends about her situation would be a minor inconvenience, absolutely nothing in the long run.
Moon blabbing about how the Boy-Who-Lived had a minor breakdown on the anniversary of his parents' murder would cause even more damage to the already traumatized child.
Damn it! It's Lillie all over again!
"Blakesley."
The sudden cold address snapped Moon back from her thoughts. Draco was standing across from her, without his bodyguards, with an impassive expression.
"Siding with the Gryffindors again?" he asked evenly. "They win a match because of a reckless Seeker, and suddenly you're on friendly terms with them?"
"I wanted to know what happened, and I didn't think you'd want to talk about the game."
"So you go to Potter's friends to learn what happened?" he said with a sneer. "Dementors got on the grounds, Potter was too stupid to notice and nearly broke his neck. End of story."
"I could have sworn that there was a part where Potter caught the Snitch, Dumbledore stopped him from breaking his neck, and Dumbledore having some sort of anti-Dementor charm."
"Why does that matter?!"
"The anti-Dementor charm or the Snitch?" Moon asked flatly.
"It was a fluke," Draco stated, not answering her question directly. "No one in their right minds would have dived into a horde of Dementors. There should be a rematch! But no, it was a fair game, just because it's Potter that caught the Snitch."
"And the weather ruined the game too, I suppose?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. Draco frowned, causing every one of his sharp features to crease and tense. He had always appeared haughty with his 'pure-blood' looks, as many of the Slytherin girls referred to them as, but he had been friendly enough towards Moon that she hadn't thought much of it. Now, she couldn't help but notice that when Draco became truly angry—not pouting or attention-grabbing—he looked rather intimidating.
"Listen closely Blakesley," he said, "I don't know where you came from or who you're related to, but I know there isn't a single pure-blood family with your name."
"I am a half-blood and I admit that freely," she said.
"That's not something to be proud of," he replied venomously. "Your magic being diluted by Muggle blood is an awful thing. How do you expect anyone to take you seriously when you walk around with a name like that?"
"Plenty of the professors here are half-bloods, and everyone takes them seriously."
"Because they've earned their respect," he said. "Of course, there's a few who haven't, like that oaf Hagrid or Lupin."
Moon's jaw clenched. "And I haven't earned respect? Not even after I kept you from being mauled?"
"A Gryffindor act," Draco said. "Not exactly a good thing either."
"Fine," she said flatly. "Fine. Whatever. I'm a half-blood and too Gryffindor-ish for you to respect. But listen closely, Malfoy; your lineage is all that keeps people respecting you. Not because you are skilled or smart or funny, but because of chance. There's nothing that you have done that is worth respecting."
And with that, she turned her back on the blond Slytherin and stormed back to her private room. She knew deep down that she would have to pay for her remark in some way, but at the moment she didn't care. She was angry and fed up with how the boy would go around, blatantly insulting the people she had grown to care about and not having the decency to apologize once.
It was when she crashed on her bed that a feeling of loneliness started to seep in. She was arguing with all of her friends. Hermione and Ron wouldn't talk to her for weeks. Draco might not speak to her ever again. Harry, as forgiving as he could be, probably wouldn't want to see her either.
She sat up hastily and reached for her bag. After rifling around for a minute, she pulled out the stack of photos she had carried around with her since she began the island challenge. Some were pictures of random spots around Alola, most of them were her with her pokémon, but there were a few scattered around in the stack that she desperately wanted to see.
The first one she found was taken just after Hau had dragged her to a malasada shop. He had wrapped an arm around her shoulders and had taken the picture as she was biting into the pastry. Hau's crumb-covered face was split into a radiating grin. Her own face was partially blocked by the malasada, and the shock was barely registering on her face at the time.
She recalled mashing his second malasada into his face in retribution, which only caused him to burst out laughing. It had been an odd feeling then; she hadn't had any friends her own age before she moved to Alola, and being the cause of non-derisive laughter was a new experience.
The next picture was a nicer one. She was standing between Hau and Lillie, wearing her old red hat. Hau was grinning widely, and Lillie was smiling happily. Moon's expression was a simple, barely noticeable smile. The picture had been taken before Lillie's transformation.
Another picture was a group photo. Moon was surrounded by every other champion: Red, Gold, May, Dawn, Hilda, Rosa, Calem, and even Blue. It had been her first time meeting with the other region's leaders, and they made her feel like part of the group immediately.
She continued to pull apart the stack of photos, taking in every grin, every weird face, every instant of captured bliss, until her collection was spread out on the bed. The photos sat there, unmoving, and she stifled a laugh when she realized that she had gotten used to seeing moving pictures.
A tear slid down her cheek and splattered on one unfortunate photo. It was the oldest one she carried around. A seven year-old version of her sat between her parents. Her hair was done up in blue ribbons that matched her dress. She was grinning widely to show off her missing lower teeth. Her mother was sitting on her left, looking as elegant as ever. Her father, just starting to show wrinkles and greying hairs, was gazing at the two of them in adoration.
The thought that she might never see any of these people again chilled her. It wasn't the first time the thought had crossed her mind, but she hadn't taken the time to fully consider what it meant. Her family was gone. Her friends were gone. Even the pokémon she had managed to bring with her were only a fraction of the team she had amassed. She had been torn away from everything she cared about in an instant.
And, try as she might, she couldn't see herself finding anything to truly care about in the strange new world.
Early update because I won't be able to update on my regular schedule.
I managed to just finish that chapter that I was talking about last week. 600 or so words is now about 3500, roughly. Amazing what some coffee and dedication can do.
Have a wonderful weekend, everyone!