Chapter 11
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Warning: panic attack
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SOMETIMES, THE PEOPLE AROUND HARRY WOULD END UP DOING SOMETHING THAT WOULD COMPLETELY BAFFLE HIM.
"Harry! I've got some time this weekend if you wanted to start practicing."
"Hmm? What?"
"Didn't you say you wanted to learn a spell against the dementors?"
"Oh! Umm, yeah...I thought you'd forgotten." He didn't even hope for Lupin to remember.
"Forgotten? What gave you that idea? Didn't I say we'll start after Yule?"
"You did, I just thought-...never mind, nothing. It's stupid. This weekend works out fine!"
"Sure...Is everything alright?"
"Yup!"
It started with Ron when he offered him a hand on the train and stuck to him, ever since. Only, Harry couldn't tell if it was a good thing or not.
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It was a firebolt. Somebody sent Harry a bloody firebolt of all things.
Adhara traced the letters on the handle with delicate fingers, letting only the tips of her gloves touch the broom. She wouldn't be able to feel the smooth wood unless she took them off.
She wondered who could've sent this gift. It couldn't be McGonagall again, the firebolt was awfully expensive, and Adhara had an inkling that teachers weren't paid well enough for it. Who could've afforded such a valuable broom?
Malfoy could. He was the wealthiest kid on school grounds, raised on old money and fed with a silver spoon before he even knew what silver was. He could obviously afford the firebolt. But there was no way he would simply gift one to Harry of all people.
Adhara couldn't think of anyone generous and rich enough to pull such an act.
She looked up, finally tearing her gaze away from the beautiful equipment and was met with the sight of three glaring Gryffindors instead of excited ones.
"There's nothing wrong with the broom, Hermione," said Harry's suspiciously calm voice.
"You don't know that! There's a murderer on the loose! You need to be more cautious!"
"Of a broom?!" There it was. The false imitation of patience in Harry's voice was gone, replaced with his usual heated temper. One that rose whenever he felt wronged, Adhara learned.
It wasn't the first time she witnessed Harry's anger, though. Adhara watched Harry grind his teeth, jaw tight as though he was forcing himself to subdue the fire only for it grow more unruly.
She expected Hermione to meet him back with the same energy, seeing how equally furious she got when fighting with Ron. But the girl stumbled back, mouth opening and closing, repeatedly. She looked taken aback by the heat.
"There's no need to tell McGonagall about this!"
Hermione stood frozen. From beside her, Adhara heard Millie speak up firmly.
"Hermione."
And that seemed to have given Hermione that push she needed. Right at that instance, right when she heard Millie call out her name, Mione's mouth snapped shut, eyes turning resolute as she took a step forward Adhara's godbrother.
"I will do as I see fit, Harry Potter." Her voice was sharp and clear, like a clean-cut knife. Her expression morphed into an unwavering mask of Gryffindor confidence, one that was strengthened with Millie's encouragement. But Adhara had known her long enough to know that, although Mione was indeed mad, the mask hid the sadness she also felt in the face of Harry's anger.
Hermione stormed off, Millicent following closely behind.
Adhara stayed back, not really thinking much of this fight. She didn't join in on Harry and Ron's conversation, either, deciding to ignore the whole ordeal altogether.
Surely, this wasn't going to last very long.
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Or maybe it would.
It has been a week, and Hermione still showed no sign of going back to the Gryffindor table. The boys were glaring daggers from across the Hall, making Adhara's resolution to not roll her eyes just that much more difficult.
Hermione did end up informing McGonagall, actually. The woman wasted no time to confiscate the broom, which only helped to add fuel to fire.
Part of Adhara did understand Mione's wariness. If the gift really was from Sirius Black, it was better to be safe than sorry. But the other part of her, that quidditch-enthusiast (No, it was not an obsession. Oliver Wood had an obsession, Adhara simply liked to play) part of her that awakened in first year, also understood where Harry's anger came from.
She made no effort to placate the matter, however. This was a fight between the three lions, Millie and she did not need to meddle in their affairs. They will be there to comfort Mione if need be, but otherwise, solving this problem was really up to them. Nothing the snakes would say would change anything, anyway.
"Haven't you two notice anything off?" inquired Millie, out loud.
Adhara and Hermione exchanged a look before turning their attention on their raven-haired friend.
Adhi shook her head.
"Mione's been spending every meal at the Slytherin table for a week now, yet Malfoy has made no comments. None whatsoever."
Mione looked around the table. "Others have, though."
"Yes, but not from Malfoy."
Adhara glanced at her cousin. Millie was right, now that she thought of it. Strangely, he was quietly eating his dinner on his own, the rest of the purebreds a few seats away from him. His pompous veneer was completely gone.
"That is....very odd," added Mione.
"Unsettling, even."
"He's eating alone," Adhara pointed out.
"Something's up."
Adhara pulled her attention away from Malfoy.
"With him, or in general?"
"With him!"
"This is Hogwarts. Something is always up. Nothing new there."
Millie had the nerve to roll her eyes at her. "Nothing dangerous has happened this year, yet. No troll, no one petrified."
"My crazy uncle escaped Azkaban," Adhara deadpanned. "And he snuck into the school, probably with the intention to kill someone."
She heard Hermione suck in a breath. But Millie only rolled her eyes once more.
"Yes, okay. Near-death experience, big deal. That's nothing out of the ordinary."
Adhara shrugged. "That is true," she said. The corner of her mouth quirked up slightly as she spoke the next words. "The only thing out of the ordinary would have to be Mione's strange behaviour and how she still hasn't spilled the beans on how she manages to take three classes at the same time."
Mione froze.
"Yeah, eh. Why haven't you told us anything, yet?"
"I don't know what you're talking about?" she laughed nervously.
Adhara wanted to laugh. "Point is, it would be off if someone at this school wasn't up to something." She looked pointedly at Millie.
"What?"
"Gonna explain why you come back to the dorms so late at night?"
"Oh. That wasn't a secret."
"Well, you sure weren't planning on telling us unless we confronted you," chimed in Hermione. Adhara had already asked her if she knew but the bushy-haired girl was equally as clueless as her.
"It's nothing special. I asked Madam Pomfrey if I could help around the Hospital Wing, and she agreed."
Mione's eyes doubled in size. "Nothing special?! Millie! That's great news!"
Adhara watched as Millicent's cheeks turned pink. "O-oh. I guess. It's no big deal, really."
"It is a big deal! Millie, you've always dreamt about being a medi-witch! This is a step closer-"
"Okay! Enough with the mushy stuff!"
But Mione didn't stop. In fact, it only encouraged to continue. She continued to compliment Millie despite the amount of time she rejected the praise.
Adhara only smiled at them.
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Harry dropped on the wooden floor, yet his hold on the wand didn't waver. The bright light of the patronus partially blinded his view, allowing only the edges of the dementors dark cloak to float in his sight. He tried to hold the spell a bit longer, as he had done the previous weekend, except, not long after he cast it did the light begin to extinguish.
The dementor inched closer when Harry's hand started to shake. The light was drawing to an end, and the multiple candles lighting the room did nothing to prevent his vision to once again go dark.
"Not Harry! Please......have mercy....have mercy.."
There was someone beside him, holding tightly onto his arms. Grounding him, preventing him from sinking deeper into the abyss once more where only the sound of his mother's excruciating screech reached his ears, as he listened to her die over and over again.
The person tried to calm him, they whispered softly into his ears, but the words only sounded mashed up against Harry's hands covering his ears from the awful scream.
"They're dead. They're dead and listening to their echoes isn't going to bring them back. Get a grip on yourself if you want that Cup."
He reminded himself, as though the words themselves would protect him from his fears and panic.
"Come on, Harry. Deep breaths, like me, like this. Yes, yes, come one. Follow me."
His hands weren't covering his ears anymore — or maybe it was just one — one of his hands was held up against something soft and flat, rising and falling at a steady beat. The cottony material under his hand prickled his skin, the sudden feeling on his fingers making him jump. The hand that was holding his wrist tightened at the reaction, grounding him once more. Something wrapped around his shoulders, encompassing him.
"Breathe in, Harry. Like me."
And Harry finally recognized the voice as Lupin's. He followed the steady rhythm under his hand, taking in deep breaths with his mouth and his nose, holding it and then slowly releasing.
"That's it."
Harry let himself loosen up, his head falling forward. The arm encircling him did more to soothe his anxiety than he wanted to admit, allowing Harry to finally regulate his breathing. He opened his eyes.
Professor Lupin was sitting on the floor with him, legs crossed in a similar fashion to Harry's. He looked at his student with a wobbly smile, a look in his eye that Harry pinned as pity, a look he hated receiving.
He scooted away from the touch, harshly rubbing the tears away because — Merlin, why did he have to embarrass himself in front of his favourite teacher?
"S-sorry." He found a loose thread on the lace of his oxfords and decided it was more interesting to look at than his teacher.
"You have nothing to apologize for, Harry. It's a very natural reaction." Lupin stayed in his spot, he didn't try to approach.
Harry scoffed, despite his throat croaking with every sound he made. The crying — because he cried, fuck — made his throat very dry. He swallowed down to moisten it. "No once else faints, or cr- has the same reaction as I do."
"Maybe they do. You wouldn't know if someone did. They could be just as embarrassed as you and decided to hide it."
"The whole school knew when I fainted. If someone else did, I would know too."
Lupin huffed at the logic. "Harry, I don't know if you've noticed, but you tend to be the center of most rumours here."
"I have noticed," he grumbled. He knew his status as the Boy-Who-Lived meant people were more interested in his life than some other random kid. As mean and self-absorbed as that may sound, it was the truth.
"And you, and anyone else for that matter, should not feel ashamed of it." Lupin took in a deep breath, "I get my fair share of panic attacks, too."
Harry looked up, but he didn't let go of his shoelaces, which were slowly becoming undone.
"Panic attacks?"
"Mhmm."
" I didn't know there was a name for that. I thought it was just crying." He looked back down his shoes, undoing his laces entirely. "You....you get them too?"
"Yes, Harry. I also get panic attacks."
"Oh." And there it was. The odd feeling that unfurled in his chest whenever he talked with Lupin. That feeling pushed him to trust the adult despite everything he knew about trusting people and how badly it could go.
He knew nothing about the man. Nothing substantial to determine whether he was deigned of Harry's trust, and yet the boy couldn't bring himself to doubt him. He felt like spilling everything to him, the way he did to Adhara in year one.
Everything about the girl screamed traitor — a Black, a Slytherin, dark — but, being the brash Gryffindor that he was always told he was, he went against his better judgment anyway. And now, Harry knew that it was the best decision he ever made.
So perhaps he should let akrasia lead his actions this time too.
Harry's fingers found the laces of his other shoe. "The dementors. They uhm..." he waved his hand towards the spot near where he was crying mere minutes ago. "I hear my mum."
"Ex-excuse me?" Lupin's silvery voice turned hesitant.
"When I'm near a dementor. It happened on the train, too. I hear her screaming."
"Are you sur-"
"Yes," he declared firmly. Harry thought over the theory over and over again, and nothing else came to mind. He was certain it was Lily Potter he heard. "It's a memory, I'm sure. From that-....that night."
Lupin drew in a shaky breath, fleetingly blinking away whatever moister build up in his eye.
Harry looked up. Whatever sorrow had taken up Lupin's face had disappeared, resolved by a serious expression, one that hadn't let go of its edges of worry, no matter how much he tried to hide it away.
"Harry-"
"I'm fine, really," he rushed to say.
Lupin didn't look too convinced. "If there's anything I can do-"
"No, no. It alright. I've got it handled. I just...you know. I just felt like telling you." He couldn't see himself right now, but from the warmth that crept up to his cheeks, Harry was sure his face was red.
Great. Embarrass yourself even more, why don't you?
"Thank you for telling me, then. I'm happy you trust me with that information."
Harry could only nod rapidly in response.
"Have you told anyone else?"
He blinked, mouth parting to say something, but no words fell out.
"Do your friends know?"
"Oh. Uhm. No, I haven't told them."
"Not even Adhara?"
Harry's head tilted sideways. He felt like there was a question left unsaid in that. After all, it wouldn't be the first time someone wondered why he befriended Adhara Black of all people. Even Dumbledore questioned him.
However, Lupin's tone didn't sound like it held any vice. In fact, he simply sounded curious. What happened between them that pushed them both to stay together.
"No, I didn't tell her either."
"Perhaps, you should think about it. You two seem close, I'm sure she will listen."
"We are close. She is my godsister, after all."
Lupin blinked, looking shocked. "She- ...what?"
Harry shrugged. "Sirius Black's her godfather too. But apparently he didn't want her."
Professor Lupin stiffened.
"Did you not know?"
A shake of the man's head showed that he indeed was not aware of the fact.
"Oh. Well, everyone else seemed to know. Snape did as well."
"Did he, now..."
Harry was confused. It sounded like there was something there that he was missing.
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Adhara threw the quaffle at the hoop, scoring another point for Slytherin just as Malfoy finally managed to catch the snitch. The players in green and silver started cheering as Jordan announced Slytherin's victory over Ravenclaw. Adhara caught sight of their Captain's expression and saw that he was far from being in a celebratory mood, obviously sharing the same thoughts as her own.
For once, thought Adhara, he was actually acting competent.
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Adhara grabbed Flint's sleeve, pulling him away from the rest of her team. Montagne squinted at her in a way that made it clear he didn't trust her. She paid no mind to him.
"We need better players."
"I don't know what you're talking about, Black." For his own credit, Flint did actually manage to look tepid. But the muscle in his jaw tightened the same way Harry's did whenever he was trying to control his temper. Whether Flint's anger was directed at her for calling him out or at the team for such an embarrassing display of their so-called skills didn't matter. The point was that the Captain was aware of how terribly they played, and Adhara wasn't going to stand having them humiliate themselves on the field any further.
"Yes, you do. We may have beaten the Ravens but only narrowly. It had nothing to do with skills, we won because of luck. And we all know Luck tends to be quite finicky."
"Look, Black. I know you think-"
"The chasers are doing fine. We scored as many points as we possibly could. The keeper is also okay. And, as much as I hate to admit it, Malfoy's not that bad of a seeker. The problem is the beaters."
Flint let her continue, finally accepting that she wasn't going to stop. That was something he would have to get used to with having Adhara on the team. There was no stopping Adhara Black once she got her head into something. She was stubborn like that.
"They have no chemistry, and they suck at defending. Either we get new ones, or they start taking practice seriously."
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Harry decisively knocked on the door, his new and hex-free broom in his other hand.
When no one answered after a while, he went to knock again, only to almost punch Hermione in the face when she opened her dorm door.
"Oops. S-sorry, 'Mione."
"Harry? What are you doing here? How did you get up the stairs?"
"Hover charm."
"Oh." She didn't look any more pleased to see him, though. In fact, now that her confusion was cleared out, she seemed to focus more on looking angry. "I see you got your broom back."
"McGonagall just gave it back, actually."
"I see, well. If you came to rub it in about how nothing was-"
"No! No- actually. I think we should talk."
Hermione closed her eyes, closing the door only a little bit. "There's nothing to say."
"Yes! There is!" He put his foot in the doorway, preventing her from shutting it in his face. "We have a lot to talk about. Starting with an apology, and don't think I forgot about your boggart just because I haven't said anything yet!"
And with that, Hermione's facade fell. Her eyes turned glassy as she turned around to hide her face. Harry heard her take a deep breath. "Come on in then, instead of standing there like a bloody scarecrow. And tell Ronald to stop hiding behind the curtain."
Harry only smiled.
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