Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Something We Didn't Consider
The first thing Fred, George, and I did when we got our schedules was compare them. Hunched over plates of eggs and toast we study each individual time slot, last night's disagreement completely forgotten. People always say that blood is thicker than water, meaning that the ties we have to our families are stronger than any conflict. But what they don't understand is that shared blood is a type of solidarity that you're born with. Even more so when you are a multiple.
This is the first year we've compared schedules. In the first two years, we shared every class, every meal, every free period, and every detention. The only times I had to myself were trips to the girls' lavatory, and seeking refuge in my dorm room. Later on, once Fred and George started quidditch, I also had those times as well. But this year is the first in which we will have different classes. Well, one different class. "Looks like Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmancy is during the period before lunch on Tuesdays and Thursdays," George said as he sat in the middle between Fred and me.
"And a free period after the lunch hour on those days" I observed.
"With Ancient Ruins and History of Magic following" Fred summarized.
"Merlin, those are going to be some very boring afternoons", George commented.
Fred shrugged. "Nothing a couple of blech bombs strategically placed in a few deserving book bags won't solve".
I ignored them. Good to know they have their priorities straight. "What class do we have first?" I asked; changing the subject before we could divulge down the very illuminating topic of smelly pranks.
The boys humor me. But, judging by their posture, I should be very careful about where I leave my book bag for the next few days. "DADA with Quirrell," said George. He looks up from our schedules. "You going to be okay, Holls?" His question is vague but I know what he means. Am I going to be okay with sitting in a class taught by a semi-possessed teacher? Though I think a better question would be if he will be okay. Will Fred be okay? Generally speaking, I don't prefer to be in the dark about things. But for this specific situation ignorance regarding our two-faced professor may actually be bliss.
I glance over to the staff table on the raised daises. It's not full this morning. Dumbledore is absent, so is Quirrell, and the head of houses are busy passing out schedules. For my first two years of school, I spent many meals sneaking suspicious glances at Quirrell. During those years, he was the muggle studies teacher. So, Fred, George, and I have never had the chance to be taught by Quirrell before. I don't remember when Quirrell became…. acquainted with you-know-who. Jessie doesn't have any memories of reading that information. But considering that this will be his first year of teaching DADA (Not sure how a muggle studies teacher got the DADA position. But that is a different matter entirely.) Quirrell met you-know-who over the summer. I nodded slowly.
"I have to be fine," I said, answering George's question. "We all have to be fine. But let's agree that we should never be alone with Quirrell at any given time". I said; looking at Fred and George in turn. Both have straight faces and their eyes are focused. Good, they're taking this seriously then.
"Agreed," George said.
At the same moment, Fred said, "Buddy system. Yeah, good idea". There's a break in our conversation as we take some time to eat. It's best to eat breakfast when it is warm, after all. Cold eggs taste awful. Only a couple of mouthfuls in, Fred has a thought. "Will Perce and Ron be okay?"
George and I still, our forks halfway to our mouths. It doesn't sit well with any of us that our siblings will be sitting unawares with the darkest wizard of our time only a few feet away. But not knowing is exactly what will spare them. "Yeah," I said, placing down my fork on the edge of my plate. "They don't know anything and you-know-who is only interested in the stone. Harry is the only student that should be targeted this year". I try to assure myself. Regarding Percy, there's nothing to worry about. Out of all the Weasleys, except maybe Charlie, he is the one that remains the most unscathed throughout the whole series. I'll have to worry about him during the events of the fifth book, and maybe the sixth if that doesn't change. But that will be more of a worry for his emotional well-being rather than his life.
Ron is in the most danger out of all of us Weasleys. Even then, the only thing that will happen to him that is concern worthy is the chess game he'll sacrifice himself in. If we don't do something to change that. Though Ron is different than he was in the books. How different though? I couldn't say. I'll have to watch him.
"If you hadn't told us all of this" George started to say as he also put down his fork.
"Then there would be no danger for us either" Fred concluded. I can only nod. Guilt makes it hard to speak. They are absolutely correct.
"At least for this year," George tacked on.
"Would you have preferred if I hadn't said anything?" I asked softly, crossing my arms to hug myself. It was selfish to let them know everything; to tell Fred that he was going to die. It was unfair to have their peace of mind stolen. I just… I couldn't handle it on my own anymore. It was maddening to know the world's secrets and having no one to talk to about it. Besides, I remind myself, trying to justify my actions. Everything I've done has been about preventing Fred's death. Fred, one of my precious fellow triplets who I know that I cannot live without.
"No," Fred and George said at the same time with voices that were probably a little too loud for what we are discussing.
"You can tell us anything".
"Whenever and wherever you like".
"Or whenever you feel a need too."
"Honestly, Jolly Holly you can't handle this on your own" George said, shaking off the gravity of the situation.
"You're too impatient". Said Fred. No, I'm not.
"Too impulsive". That's rich coming from them.
"Besides, this is a three-man kind of job," George said.
"You need us." They finished together. That I do. That I do.
Lee Jordan, ever the late riser, meets up with us right as we head into the DADA classroom. "Back of the room?" George asked as we filed in behind the other third-year Gryffindors.
"Wouldn't have it any other way," Fred said, leading us to the back row of desks on the left side of the classroom. In order, we go Fred, Lee, George, and then me. Giving me the opportunity to brush shoulders with Pucey as he passes us in favor of a seat at the front of the right side of the room. Our eyes meet briefly. But briefly is all we are allowed.
"No," George said, grabbing my left upper arm to pull me in front of him.
"No?' What do you mean no?" I asked; accepting my new position between Lee and George. I hadn't done anything!
"Stick to the plan, Holls", George said as we both sit down.
"What plan?" Lee asked as he dug out some parchment from his bag.
"To keep Holly away from Slytherins". Fred responded, effectively keeping the real plan a secret.
I flinch at the feeling of a foot nudging my foot under the table. My eyes widened. No! "I can help with that". Lee said, sounding just a little too happy. No! I think as I pick up my assaulted foot only to stomp it on Lee's toes. He crumbles in his seat, almost banging his head on the desktop. If he has half a mind, Lee's learned his lesson.
Sitting in the row in front of us, Angelina and Alicia turn around. "Are you guys talking about Snape?" Angelina asked with a giggle inserted between her words. They must have heard us.
"Holly fancies him" Alicia added, snickering as she spoke.
I close my eyes, longing to never open them again. What happens in the girls' dorm is supposed to stay in the girls' dorm. From my left and my right, I can feel Lee and George freeze. "What?" Fred asked, sounding absolutely flabbergasted. "And here I thought we only had to worry about Pucey" He mumbled to himself, but loud enough that we all heard him.
"Pucey?" Alicia asked; her voice suggesting that Fred had just told her something tantalizing.
"It's an inside joke," I said, slowly opening my eyes and completely ignoring Alicia. Though if she takes the Pucey comment to be an inside joke as well, that is just fine. I look at my brothers and my friends with my best pleading look. Hopefully, the message is clear; please drop this! But I know better. They may give me a respite; however, this conversation is far from over.
"W-welcome" Quirrell started as he brought the class to order. Humming to myself, I pulled out a quill and ink bottle from my bag. Soon it was followed by some parchment. I forgot about the stuttering. Makes sense though. I'd be stuttering too if there was a psychopath under my turban. "This Y-year we will be f-f-focusing on d-dangerous beasts and how to-to protect ourselves". At the end of his sentence, Quirrell smiles at the lot of us. As if that sentence was a big accomplishment for him. "An E-exciting year. Boys and girls". Quirrell turns his back to the class to write on the blackboard. "W-we'll dis-discuss the curriculum and my expec-expectations today. And s-start learning during the next cl-class".
I had just dated the top corner of my parchment when I first noticed something was off. Jessie's face flashed in the forefront of my mind. Glossy Brown hair, high cheekbones, brown eyes, too much make-up on her face, and a nose that she was never fond of. My right hand, my writing hand, stills. That's never happened before. Jessie doesn't just pop up. I have to purposefully think about that part of me. I shake my head and try to focus on the classroom rules Quirrell is writing on the board. Probably just my subconscious, I tell myself. A lot has been underfoot as of late. I start to make a header. But it feels weird that I am writing with my right hand. Have I always written with my right hand? As if I was looking down at myself from a window, I transfer my quill from my right hand to my left. That feels better. But… I stare at my left hand…. at my left hand. My left hand. Is it my left hand?
As if shocked, I jolted back to myself. What the hell? What a stupid thought. Of course, it's my hand. If not mine, whose would it be? I turn back to the task of writing down Quirrell's classroom rules, returning my quill to my right hand in the process. I'm not sure why I am bothering. Classroom rules are always the same. Don't talk unless called on. No more than one unexcused tardiness per term. All late assignments will be docked points unless given an extension.
A flash of light, and suddenly I am sitting at a table in the bio lab at my university. My classmate and roommate, Lena, sits next to me. We were examining a cow's eyeball with the goal of removing the lens. I was holding a scalpel in my left hand. There's a hand on my shoulder. But Lena isn't touching me. And there isn't anyone else around me. So, who is touching me?
"Holly," a voice whispered. I know that voice. But it isn't Lena. Lena doesn't say anything. Who's talking? Who is Holly?
Flash. My quill is in my right hand. I'm sitting in DADA. George is currently shaking my shoulder. That's right. I have to blink my eyes rapidly before I can focus. I am Holly. George is my brother. I think as I turn to look at him. How long have we been in class? I thought we were at breakfast. And who the hell is Lena? My left hand started to twitch as if responding to the name.
"Your nose is bleeding, Holls" George whispered, eyes leaking concern. Nose? I use my left hand to run a finger under my nostrils. The last time I had a bloody nose was when I got hit in the face by a rogue quaffle when Bill and Charlie were having a game of catch in the yard. But when I pull my hand away from my nose there is blood. Ruby red and shining. How did that happen? As if I am watching a slideshow on fast forward in a pitch-black room, images dash across my vision. Jessie. Knife. Holly. The knife being plunged into a bare stomach. Scream. Lots of screaming. Charlie chases little Holly around the pond. Jessie shopping. Jessie getting into the driver's seat of a car. Arthur tucking Holly into bed along with Fred and George. Knife. Jessie crying. Holly Crying. Blood dripping off a knife.
"Sir," George said. He still has one arm on my shoulder, but the other is raised in the air. "Something's wrong-"
I open my eyes to see a tall vaulted ceiling. I must be lying on my back. But why? My limbs feel heavy and I have absolutely no motivation to move them. Where am I? This isn't the third-year girls' dorm. It's far too airy. "Holly!" A shrill voice calls out. Instinctual, I turn my head in the direction of the voice. On my right side is the very disheveled form of my Mum. Mum lunges over me, her frizzy graying red hair swishing over her shoulders. I almost get a mouthful of it as Mum pulls me up by my shoulders and into her arms.
"Mum?" I asked, head feeling a bit cloudy. "What are you doing here?" I should probably hug her back. But that would involve lifting my arms… Meh, too much effort. It's good to see her though. Even if it has only been a day.
Mum squeezes me as if she's afraid I'm not actually there. How silly. "Holly, you nearly made my heart stop" Mum expressed. "Getting notified from the school like that. I didn't know what to think".
Notified from the school? What for? "Why would the school write to you? I swear Mum, I haven't gotten any detentions yet". I mumbled sleepily into her shoulder. But why? Wasn't I just asleep? Wait… Why was I asleep in the first place?
Mum lowers me down on what feels to be a stack of pillows. So, I'm in bed then. That makes sense. I doubt Mum would let me sleep on the floor. "You don't remember?" She asked. Mum doesn't wait for a response before filling me in. "Dear, you had a fit in class". A fit? I give Mum a skeptical look. I wouldn't throw a tantrum in class. I haven't had one of those since Percy accidentally spilled pumpkin juice on my favorite doll when I was seven. "You fell right out of your chair and started seizing on the floor!" Oh, that type of fit. But why? I've never done that before.
A little more intrigued, I look around the room. There are multiple beds, and it's clean. Very clean. "I am in the hospital wing". I said, intending it as a statement but it comes out sounding like a question. Things are coming together now. "What caused it?" I asked, looking back at Mum.
But she doesn't have the answer. "You gave us quite the scare, Ms. Weasley," said a new voice as the figurehead of Hogwarts approached my hospital bed. He's wearing his infamous purple robes and half-moon spectacles. And here is someone I have been trying to avoid for the last two years. A difficult feat; considering all the trouble Fred and George rope me into. "I dare say this start of term will be one for the record books". His eyes sparkle. How does he do that? Dumbledore turns to my Mum, maintaining his calm disposition. "I have been informed by Madam Pomfrey that Holly will make a full recovery. She'll require a couple of dosages of an anti-seizure draught and plenty of rest. But she should be able to return to classes in a couple of days". Mum relaxes, exhaling out of her mouth. "But there are some concerns that I must bring to your attention" At once, Mum is sitting ramrod straight. "Prior to the seizure, your sons described Holly as acting confused and distracted. As if in a daze. Her nose started to bleed seconds before the seizure. These are symptoms of someone who has had their mind invaded."
Mum gasped and reached out to grab my hand. Even though it is currently under a bedsheet. Invaded mind? Invaded mind? Everything clicks into place. Aw, crap. Amongst all our planning, Fred, George, and I had forgotten a rather alarming detail. "Legilimency? At Hogwarts? And who would do that to a child?" Mum bemoaned. I can think of someone who would have no qualm with invading the mind of a student.
"A disturbing thought, Molly. I assure you there will be a full investigation of the matter". Would Dumbledore looking into things will help or hurt us in the long run? Bugger! How could I have overlooked such an obvious detail? If I could kick myself I would. "But that is not the only thing this event has revealed. In most cases, a victim of legilimency does not show any signs of their assault. Visible symptoms are, historically, a sign that the victim has a very confusing mind. One that the attacker cannot sort through", Dumbledore explains very calmly. As if he was merely teaching a class. "The deeper the attack goes, the more confused the mind becomes. Hence all the damage". Oh hell, I know where this is going. Abort! I think. Abort! Abort! Abort! But there is nothing I can do. I'm stuck lying on a bed surrounded by two adults. If I were to suddenly get up and bolt there would be even more questions. "On record, the witches and wizards that possess such confusing minds are the ones who remember a past life".
Both Mum and Dumbledore look at me. I opened my mouth to say something but decided against it. I am to blame for everything that's happened to me. After all, I am the idiot that decided to play with Pandora's box. But now I have to figure a way out without revealing to Dumbledore that I know more than I should. "Holly?" Mum prompted.
Pandora's box, indeed. "Jessie," I answered. Choosing to look solely at Mum. "Her name was Jessie," I said, trying to keep my voice flat. "She was an American muggle. The youngest child of a single mum. Had one older brother whom she didn't speak with too often. She graduated from the University of Nebraska with a degree in political science. But she didn't go into politics. Or whatever it is you do with a political science degree. Instead, she ended up working for a media company as an office administrator. Jessie was killed when she was twenty-five years old. I don't know who did it. I can never remember the killer's face".
Mum gasped, and her face paled. A glance in Dumbledore's direction shows him to be as composed as ever. Is there a chance that Dumbledore knows more than he is letting on? I sure hope not. That's one plot twist I don't want to work out. "The last thing I remember was being stabbed multiple times. I begged and pleaded, but it didn't work. Then the first thing I remember as Holly… Well, I'd rather not say". There's no reason to tell my mother that my first memory in this new life was breastfeeding. And the headmaster definitely doesn't need to know that.
"Oh, Holly" Mum said as she reached over with the hand that wasn't holding mine, and touched my cheek. I lean into it. It's warm, soft, and smells like freshly baked bread. "Why didn't you tell us? We could have helped you find peace".
I should tell her that she did help me. So did Dad and all my siblings. Being in a big, active family was the best therapy. But there needs to be a reason why I didn't tell my parents about Jessie. If there isn't one, I run the risk of Dumbledore inquiring further. "You love Holly," I said, carefully forming my words. "I wasn't sure if there was room for Jessie," I said. But then I shrug. "I mean, technically we are the same person. I am Jessie. And I am Holly-"
Mum cuts me by pulling me into her arms. "You silly girl. Not love my own daughter. What utter nonsense". Mum scolded at the same time as she comforted me. Truly a multitasker, this woman. "I love every bit of you," Mum said forcefully. "Holly or Jessie or whoever else you end up being". Good to know.
Dumbledore leaves shortly after. He promises once more to get to the bottom of who could be using legilimency in his school. I cannot help but feel that I've just dodged a bullet.