Control
Everywhere he went, Grey was met with glares and whispers. It seemed that most of the school shared the suspicions of Prendergast. Though these reactions angered him, he still felt that lead-like feeling of guilt as deep down he knew they were right.
He wished he had never become a seer. He wished he had died instead of Derric.
But that could be dealt with later, for now, he had to find Richard. Grey didn't imagine that his friend would stay in the Slytherin common room or dorms, because of the attitude his housemates had toward him. Ever since he could remember, Richard had spent as little time as possible with his fellow Slytherins.
So that left the library, the room of requirements, or the grounds. Given the current snowstorm, he doubted very much that Richard was outside so he decided to check the library first.
Heading upstairs, he was greeted by a sad smile from Madame Lovegood, who had been present at the earlier meeting. He did not return it. Striding hastily between the shelves, Grey's heart gave a leap as he spotted Richard in their usual booth.
Richard was slumped in his chair, eyes fixed unmoving on the open book in front of him. He showed no signs of reading it though, as silent tears rolled down his face.
The lump in Grey's throat swelled painfully.
"Richard?" He whispered, voice cracking slightly.
The Slytherin's face snapped toward him with a mixture of sadness and anger. Without a word, Richard rose and stormed past him toward the exit.
Grey stood, too stunned to process what had just happened. It took him several seconds to snap out of it before he forced himself to rush after his friend. Emerging into the corridor, Grey spotted the rapidly retreating form of Richard.
"Richard!" He called again, hurrying to catch up.
But he was ignored.
Panic was firing in his systems now. He sped forward, overtaking his friend and blocking his way.
Richard's face was contorted in apparent fury.
"Rich-"
But he was cut off.
"Get out of the way and leave me the fuck alone." Richard hissed, shoving past him.
The words felt like knives in his chest.
Watching his friend leave, Grey crumpled to the ground. He drew his knees to his chest as quiet sobs wracked through him.
Richard couldn't believe everyone else could he? But then again, if Grey blamed himself, how could he be surprised if Richard did too?
The full weight of everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours seemed to crash down on Grey all at once. And all he could do was cry. Head buried in his knees, he cried until his eyes stung and his nose was blocked for what felt like hours.
Until he was discovered.
Sneering laughter pulled him from his grief as he found Malfoy and a random Slytherin girl staring down at him. How Malfoy constantly found him at his worst, Grey couldn't fathom. But he was in no mood to be civil today.
With a cold glare, Grey wiped his eyes and nose and got to his feet.
"Having a little cry Willow?" Malfoy jeered as the girl giggled obnoxiously.
"Yes," Grey stated blankly.
"How very girlish of you."
"How very toxically masculine of you." Grey snapped back. His wand was already in his hand.
"At least I am a man," Malfoy smirked.
"Oh! That's what you are? Forgive me, I could have sworn you were a troll. The smell was so bad-"
Malfoy's wand whipped out, pointing directly at Grey's face. But Grey's expression remained as blank as possible as numbness seeped into his veins once more. The girl beside Malfoy cringed backwards.
"Ew, she's so creepy," She shuddered, "I'm not surprised she made that boy kill himself."
Grey's wand was raised now too but pointed at the girl. The lack of emotion he experienced was unnerving.
"Don't even think about it, Willow." Malfoy hissed.
Grey glanced at him. "Or what?"
A dark look overcame the Slytherin's features. In an instant, he'd slashed his wand and Grey felt something hot streak across his already burnt arm. Blood dripped from the laceration. Grey stared at it, watching the crimson seep into his robe sleeve and feeling the throbbing it caused. It almost mesmerized him.
"What a freak," scoffed the girl to Malfoy.
Grey hardly noticed as they left.
Somehow, he made his way back to his dorm, clutching the wound. He ignored all the harsh looks he received. He ignored the sting from the hex that grazed his ear as he crossed the Ravenclaw common room. Once in his dorm, he carefully bound the cut with bandages he conjured. Then he lay silently on his bed.
Hours passed. Grey didn't move. He didn't attend the memorial feast. He just lay quietly, occasionally petting Twyla, or breaking down into tears. He didn't sleep until the early hours of the morning.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Richard continued to ignore him the next day. And then the day after that.
Grey attended his classes, all except divination. He completed his homework, he studied for his OWLs, he avoided everyone who tried to confront him about Derric and he spent every free moment either eating quickly or shut up in his solitary room.
Soon, two weeks had passed and Richard still wasn't speaking to him. So Grey slipped silently deeper into his isolation.
Frequently, Dumbledore would invite him to have tea in his office but Grey always declined. It wasn't that he wasn't grateful, he just didn't have anything to say.
Three weeks after Derric's death, the first occasion to use the coins arose. Thankfully, the headache came during one of Grey's free periods, so no one questioned when the Ravenclaw hurried up to the seventh floor.
On the way, he remembered to tap his coin three times with his wand as the pain crept across his temples. It wasn't the only thing Grey felt - terror to put it simply. It was the first vision since Derric, the first time in the room of requirements too. Grey felt sick as the door materialized.
However, the interior was very different from his previous visits to the room. Much to his astonishment, the room was much smaller. Where the bookshelves had once stood, now was a dark cabinet full of what appeared to be empty crystal vials. There was a dark blue sofa on the opposite wall and the final item of furniture was a stone basin opposite the door that resembled a church font, except its contents were dark and almost iridescent.
Grey settled on the sofa, anxiety filling him as his headache intensified. Would he watch someone die again? Would it be related to Grindelwald?
As similar thoughts raged across his mind, his leg began to shake. A few moments later, the door opened, causing him to jump. Dumbledore entered with a smile on his face.
"Afternoon, Grey." He greeted.
It was all the boy could do to nod in response. He was worried the words might get stuck in his throat. Dumbledore came to sit beside him on the sofa.
"How are you feeling?" He asked, observing him closely.
Grey pressed his hands onto his burnt arms for comfort.
"Pain is about a 6/10 but intensifying steadily." He stammered.
"Alright," Dumbledore nodded, "Why don't we talk to keep you distracted until it's time?"
Grey shuddered but agreed quietly. Dumbledore beamed at him, leaning back in his seat.
"Well," He started casually, "Later this afternoon, I am going into Hogsmeade to meet a friend of mine, Newt Scamander." He stated.
The name sounded familiar to Grey.
"Is that the person who wrote 'Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them'?" He inquired.
The professor looked pleased with his question.
"Yes, it is. I wasn't aware you'd read it, it's not in the school library yet."
"Richard had it," Grey explained, and then his heart gave a painful jolt.
"Ah, that makes sense. What was your favourite creature?" Dumbledore asked.
That was an easy question.
"Thestrals."
As he spoke, his headache flared horrifically and he gasped forward. He barely had time to register Dumbledore catching him before he tumbled off the sofa as everything went black.
A stable stands in the far corner of the courtyard. He hadn't noticed it before.
Four gaunt, horse-like creatures trot in and out of the shadows within.
A loud crack echoes around the courtyard.
He turns.
People are flooding from the castle, staring at something beyond the gate. Grindelwald leads them with a smirk on his face.
Grey can just make out three figures approaching the gate.
The scene changes.
It is the early evening, he is in the dark interior of a house.
Unfamiliar pictures move on the walls, it's small but well-decorated.
The walls explode inwards.
Lurching forward, Grey would have fallen if it weren't for Dumbledore's arms already holding him in place. Sweat dripped from his brow as he gulped the air like a drowned man. The headache faded but he was left feeling dizzy and confused.
For a moment, Dumbledore disappeared from beside him but he reappeared quickly. Crouching in front of Grey, he forced a glass of water into Grey's trembling hands. He sipped it carefully, trying to process everything he'd just witnessed.
Dumbledore remained in front of him, watching. When he'd finished the water, his professor took the glass and placed it on a table that had appeared beside the sofa. Then he sat back down next to Grey.
"How do you feel?" He asked softly.
Grey shrugged, trying to push down the sick feeling in his stomach.
"Are you comfortable enough for me to extract the memory?" He added.
Stiffly, Grey nodded.
Dumbledore drew his wand from his pocket and raised it toward Grey's head. In a moment of instinct and fear, the Ravenclaw couldn't prevent himself from flinching away. The rising of the wand faltered as Dumbledore surveyed him with a saddened yet knowing look in his eyes.
"It's alright," He reassured, "It won't hurt."
But Grey eyed the wand anxiously. With a gentle hand, Dumbledore reached forward, nudging his chin to turn his head, then placed the tip of his wand against Grey's temple.
He hadn't been lying, it didn't hurt. Instead Grey felt the cold sensation of wet string being dragged across the interior of his skull. It made him shiver. As Dumbledore drew his wand away, a silvery blue wisp clung to the tip. Quickly, the professor flicked it into one of the crystal vials and placed it in the cabinet.
"All done." He stated, beaming at Grey.
The boy released a breath he didn't know he'd been holding as the professor returned to his seat.
"Thank you, sir," He mumbled, rubbing his arms again.
"You're welcome, Grey."
The two sat in silence for a moment.
"How have you been doing overall, I noticed you no longer spend time with Richard," Dumbledore commented.
Grey was hardly surprised at Dumbledore's query, given the fact he'd managed to avoid every attempt the professor had made to reach out till now. It didn't mean he wanted to answer though. But he surmised that he owed Dumbledore for the care he'd given.
"Richard isn't speaking to me." He confessed rigidly.
Dumbledore sighed, "I am sorry Grey, on top of everything that must be incredibly difficult," He remarked.
The lump in Grey's throat returned and he scratched his arms harder.
It was difficult, so, so difficult.
"I'm sure he will come round though. He just needs time to grieve," Dumbledore stated in a reassuring tone.
But Grey wasn't so sure.
"I think he blames me, sir," He added.
"Ah,"
"It's ok, I blame myself too." Grey regretted the words as soon as they'd left his mouth.
He watched the familiar grave expression of concern creep across Dumbledore's features.
"May I see your hands?" His teacher remarked solemnly.
A spark of triumph resounded in Grey as he showed him the rough yet unbroken scars on his hands. But the sight only seemed to deepen the worry on Dumbledore's face.
"Could you roll up your sleeves?"
Every word was uttered with such stifled sadness yet each pressed harshly into Grey's chest as panic constricted his lungs.
"Why sir?" He spluttered but his words held no convincing note of strength.
"Please," Dumbledore insisted.
But Grey was frozen, arms still extended before him. Calmly, but still, with an undeniable look of worry, Dumbledore took hold of Grey's left wrist and carefully pushed up his sleeve. The professor took a sharp intake of breath at the sight.
Bits of jumper fluff were caught in the oozing wounds where Grey had been scratching. The rest of his arm was covered with penny-sized burns all in various stages of healing. Without a word, he took hold of the other wrist, pushing the jumper up to reveal a similar tattered visage.
Meanwhile, Grey watched stiffly, trying to keep calm.
"Grey, this-"
But he snatched his arms back before Dumbledore could finish.
"It's under control, sir," He affirmed.
"This is not control, Grey." Dumbledore countered darkly.
"It is for me."
The professor's face softened and he reached out, grasping Grey's wrist again. Slowly, he traced his wand over the burns and Grey watched as they began to fade to scars. He repeated the action with the other wrist and then rolled down the boy's sleeves.
"I'm sorry you've had to experience so much pain in your life." He murmured sorrowfully.
"I haven't, sir,"
But the lie trembled from his lips with such grief that he bowed his head in shame.
Suddenly, an arm encircled his back and a hand rested firmly on the back of his head. Despite his shock, Grey melted into the hug, surprised at his own sudden need for comfort. Head laid on his teacher's shoulder, he let Dumbledore hold him soothingly.
"I am strong, I'm not weak." He whispered shakily.
He felt Dumbledore nod.
"I know," He reassured.
"I can take care of myself." He added, words laced with desperation.
"I know. You have," He said, "You always will. But I've joined in no too."
Gratitude and despair mingled unpleasantly inside of Grey and with a moment's hesitation, he pulled out of the embrace.
"Thank you, sir,"
Dumbledore nodded sadly. Grey rose to his feet.
"I should go," He mumbled.
"Actually, I was going to offer that you join me into Hogsmeade this afternoon," Dumbledore interjected.
Grey stared at him in surprise.
"I think you could use some fresh air and after all, you did enjoy Newt's book," He added with a small smile.
The offer was wonderful but Grey didn't want pity.
"Thank you, sir, but I don't want to impose."
"Not at all," Dumbledore pronounced, "I was planning on inviting you along earlier then fate through us together." he chuckled, but Grey didn't fail to notice the knowing look in his eyes.
His explanation did ease the shame a little though.
"Alright." Grey agreed still somewhat reluctantly.
"There is a small hitch of you not being permitted to leave the castle."
Grey's heart fell.
"So I think it would be wise if you accompanied in raven form."