Interrogation & Integration
Harry’s fingers thrummed across the counter while he carefully trimmed the leaves of the roses that Miss Thornhill wanted him to tend to that day. The greenhouse was quiet, but it only served to heighten Harry’s anxiety.
He hadn’t slept much the night before, not after he confessed his secret to Wednesday and she had left his room in a flurry. She said she had to go to the library, but Harry didn’t see her at breakfast before he went to work. Every time he had closed his eyes after that, he saw the monster approaching him. Wednesday had been right, it didn’t make sense for it to go after the dog and Rowan but not them.
Everything about the night was confusing and Harry still felt his chest heave when he thought too much about it.
And Rowan… Rowan bleeding on the forest floor… Rowan whispering that Harry was going to destroy everything.
All in all, Harry’s nerves had better days.
Every time he heard a noise, Harry spun around, hoping that Wednesday had came to find him. When there was a creak in the doorway, Harry turned and looked again. It wasn’t Wednesday, it was Miss Thornhill.
As far as teachers went, Harry rather liked Miss Thornhill. She always had a smile for him and Harry liked her colorful glasses with her red hair. It was also nice of her to offer the part-time job to Harry, thanks to the $50 he earned a week, he already had over $500 in a bank account. He tried to do the math one time, and if he kept the job until he graduated, he’d have somewhere north of $5,000 to get him started in the real world.
It wasn’t much, but it should help Harry establish himself somewhere before finding a better paying job.
“Harry, dear, you look tired,” Miss Thornhill said as she approached him. She nodded at his work on the roses and patted his arm softly. “These look lovely.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Harry said quietly. He sat down the pruning shears and flexed his fingers. “What would you like me to do next?”
“Go see Principal Weems,” Miss Thornhill said. She smiled again when Harry quickly glanced up at her. “You’re not in trouble, dear, I think she wants to talk about the incident from last night.”
Harry blanched and bit his lip hard. He didn’t want to talk more about the incident, he wanted to forget it happened.
Forget Rowan.
Forget the monster.
Forget what he did.
“Yes, ma’am,” Harry said. He grabbed his bag off the counter with trembling fingers and studied the dirt covered floor when he addressed his teacher. “Should I come back afterward? I still have two more hours.”
“I don’t think so, why don’t you get some rest instead?” Miss Thornhill put her hand on Harry’s shoulder, just on top of his bag strap. “Healthy body, healthy mind, dear. I’ll still pay you for all five hours.”
Harry was exhausted, so he worked hard to give Miss Thornhill a grateful smile. It felt more like a grimace and holding eye contact with her was nearly painful, so Harry dropped it quickly.
“Thank you, ma’am, have a good day,” he said before slowly making his way out of the greenhouse and toward the principals office.
He missed the sympathetic look aimed at his back, but it was probably for the best.
*****
Wednesday sat in Weems’ office, having a silent stare-off with Sheriff Galpin. She was winning, clearly, as she hadn’t blinked in nearly two minutes and sweat was beginning to build on the man’s forehead.
Some people never practiced their stare with clothespins as a child, clearly.
Their tense silence was broken by a soft knock on the door. Weems gracefully stood and her cold look melted into something warmer.
“That must be Harry,” she said as she swiftly moved to the door. Wednesday did finally break contact with the sheriff, not from necessity, but to look for Harry as Weems opened the door.
For the love of God…
Harry looked terrible. When Weems opened the door, Wednesday had a brief look of Harry’s face before he caught sight of Sheriff Galpin and immediately dropped his head down. He looked like he hadn’t slept all night, likely an accurate description.
Wednesday hadn’t slept either, but she always looked exhausted. Harry didn’t typically have such thick shadows beneath his eyes or a sickly complexion to his skin.
It was no bother at the moment. Wednesday would simply force him to sleep after their interrogation and she would continue the research that Weems had interrupted.
“Harry, come in,” Weems said, gesturing to the seat beside Wednesday in front of her desk. “Have you met Sheriff Galpin before?”
Harry glanced at Wednesday then the sheriff and shook his head before sitting in the chair and placing his backpack on his lap.
“Harry, Wednesday, Sheriff Galpin would like to discuss the events from last night with you,” Weems told them, as if it weren’t obvious.
“What I want to know is why the two of you told Principal Weems here that your classmate Rowan was killed by some monster?” Galpin demanded, causing poor Harry to clench the straps of his bag tightly.
Wednesday had thought a hardened criminal such as Harry would hold up better against the threat of police, it seemed as if she had overestimated his confidence in himself. Perhaps he looked guilty because it was his pet dog that killed Rowan, the monster wasn’t given the opportunity to rip his flesh off his skeleton before he bled out from the bite at his throat.
It had been Harry’s only edit when he told Weems their story last night. He had told the lie easily, erasing the existence of the dog altogether.
Wednesday knew then that Harry was an excellent ally to have if he had been willing to lie to protect a dog, he would certainly alibi Wednesday one day when she undoubtedly needed it. If he could hold up better in interrogation, he would be nearly perfect.
Luckily for them, Wednesday had no problem dealing with incompetent police officers.
“Because that’s what happened,” Wednesday answered for them both.
“Then why was there no body to be found?” Sheriff Galpin demanded.
“Perhaps you should look again, with your eyes open this time,” Wednesday said bitingly.
“Or the two of you misunderstood what you saw,” Weems interrupted, bringing three sets of surprised eyes to her calm face. Wednesday knew she hadn’t seemed to believe them last night, but surely she wasn’t calling them liars directly to their faces.
“I am not calling you liars,” Weems said, as if reading Wednesday’s precise thoughts. Wednesday preferred she didn’t, but just in case, she thought of the most gory images she could to upset the woman. When Weems’ expression didn’t change, Wednesday assumed that it was the look of surprise on Harry’s face that Weems had read.
“Rowan never fit in here, I believe he likely ran away,” Weems went on, smiling blandly to the sheriff.
“And how do you explain the three dead tourists I have in the morgue and your students claiming to see a monster?” Sheriff Galpin demanded. An excellent question as Wednesday had only discovered the previous deaths during part of her research the night before.
“A bear attack and teenage experimentation with marijuana,” Weems said smoothly.
“I don’t do drugs,” Harry said quickly, finally speaking up. His jaw clenched while he looked at his bag. “I swear.”
“You’re Harry Potter, right?” Sheriff Galpin suddenly asked, zeroing in on Harry. “I’ve heard about you.”
He should. Wednesday wouldn’t be surprised, but she would be disappointed if the local sheriff didn’t know of the only convicted killer within their school. Her respect for the man raised slightly from the negative score he had, until he went on.
“Yeah, you were hanging out with my boy, Tyler, last night, right?”
Harry nodded, his eyes still firmly on his bag.
“Yes, sir.”
Sheriff Galpin slapped his hands on the armrests of his chair and shoved himself to his feet with a steely look aimed at Weems.
“My boy doesn’t do drugs, so I don’t know what happened last night, but I’m finding it hard to chalk it up to some kids smoking weed,” he told her. “I’ve got my deputies out combing those woods, and I’m telling you now, if I find a single drop of blood, I’m coming back with warrants to interview every freak you’ve got in here.”
Wednesday scowled while Weems leapt to her feet indignantly and Harry’s head managed to drop another inch.
Wednesday was quite proud to be a freak, but anything that caused Harry to look devastated was unacceptable.
“That is enough,” Weems thundered. “You will not come in and accuse my students of crimes that you have no proof even happened and then insult them! I would like for you to leave, now!”
“Oh I’m leaving,” Sheriff Galpin said. His eyes locked on Wednesday’s and there was a challenge in them that hadn’t existed before. “But I’m sure I’ll be back.”
Wednesday quirked an interested brow at him. It was flattering to be a suspect for a string of attacks that happened before she even arrived at Nevermore.
Weems slowly sat back down when the sheriff slammed her door shut. She closed her eyes while she loudly inhaled then opened them on the exhale and stared directly at Wednesday.
“I believe the issue we are having here is that the two of you are spending much too much time together,” she said. “Wednesday, your parents wanted you to find an entire community of support here, not a single person you could drag into your tales of monsters and murder.”
Weems’ voice softened when she turned to Harry while Wednesday fumed over what her parents wanted for her. Her mother wanted her to become a mini-Morticia, a proud Nevermore graduate with a spouse and a future of family.
That was never Wednesday’s plan.
“And Harry, you’ve been an excellent student,” Weems said gently to Harry. “I have never had an issue from you before and I would be very disappointed if that were to change. Understand?”
“Yes, ma’am,” was the quiet response she got.
Weems rubbed her forehead with her thumbs for a moment before snapping her fingers and opening her desk drawer and withdrawing a sheet of paper.
“Why don’t the two of you find an activity here to help keep your creative minds busy?” Weems suggested with a sickly sweet smile. “Idle hands are the devils playground.”
“Excellent,” Wednesday said, “I’ve been inviting him to enter my body for years. I was afraid he found my soul too dark to appreciate.”
Weems gave Wednesday a withering look, but Harry finally glanced up at Wednesday with a twitch of his lips.
“Regardless, you will both join an activity that will get you involved with your fellow students, branch out, so to speak,” Weems said, handing Harry the paper. “Harry, I spoke with Dr. Kinbott, she would like to see you this afternoon to speak about last night. Would you prefer to walk or have me drive you?”
“I’ll walk,” Harry said, pocketing the paper. “Ma’am, I didn’t do drugs, I swear.”
Whatever issue Weems had with Wednesday, and Wednesday strongly suspected it was Wednesday’s disinterest in ‘respecting her authority’, she clearly didn’t have for Harry. Her eyes were soft as she nodded at him with a small smile.
“I believe you, Harry, but I would prefer to keep any investigation of our students within the confines of our halls. The outside world has never been kind to outcasts, as you are well aware.”
Interesting.
With that cryptic remark, Wednesday and Harry were dismissed with orders to inform her what extracurricular they chose by dinner that evening.
“You didn’t sleep last night,” Wednesday said as soon as they stepped out in the hall together.
Harry shrugged. “Not really.” He scuffed one of his shoes on the floor and glanced over at Wednesday. “You weren’t at breakfast.”
Wednesday held her hand out for the paper Weems gave Harry and rolled her eyes. “Of course not, I’ve been in the library all morning. Come on, let’s choose a ridiculous activity to participate in so I can fill you in on my research before you meet with the fraud Kinbott.”
Harry yawned as he handed it over, prompting Wednesday to revise her plans.
“Or we choose an activity and you sleep before you see Kinbott,” she said, her eyes flicking down the list of school-sanctioned torture methods. “I can fill you in after dinner.”
“Research on what?” Harry asked.
Wednesday was willing to chalk his slowness up on exhaustion, so she remained patient.
“The monster, the attacks, the prophecy, and you, of course,” she said. She waved the paper in Harry’s face. “What activity do you want to participate in to get Weems off our back?”
Harry held the list still so he could squint at it. “Bianca Barclay runs the choir, and she doesn’t like me much,” he muttered. “We could check out archery?”
“Archery it is,” Wednesday said. Archery would be acceptable, Wednesday was a big fan of shooting targets. She certainly preferred live targets, but anything involving weapons was acceptable.
Or, it would have been acceptable, if Xavier Thorpe hadn’t attempted to talk to Wednesday the entire time Wednesday watched Harry aim arrows at the target and miss every shot.
“I heard you and Rowan got into it last night,” Xavier said. He shrugged when Wednesday gave him a curious look. “We’re roommates. He never came back last night, is he alright?”
“No,” Wednesday said, “he’s dead. Harry, spread your legs apart before you shoot out a window.”
Xavier sputtered and Harry’s next arrow grazed the edge of the target.
“Dead?” Xavier whispered. “How?”
Wednesday gave him a bored look. “A horrifying monster ripped his throat out. How often does the archery club meet?”
Xavier turned pale at Wednesday’s mention of the monster, an interesting response.
“Twice a week,” he said. “Tuesdays and Saturdays.”
“Absolutely not.” Wednesday waited for Harry to shoot once more before she shook her head at him. “I will not be subject to this facade twice a week. Come on, Harry, let’s keep looking.”
Harry seemed pleased to hand the bow back to Xavier, so Wednesday didn’t feel too badly for vetoing the first club they tried.
The next club, Harry vetoed.
“I’m not doing anything with bees,” he said when Wednesday pointed it out. “They used to sting me when I worked in my aunts garden, I’ve got a scar on my foot from one.”
“Perhaps it confused you for a flower,” Wednesday suggested.
Harry huffed, “I’m not joining the bee club, Wednesday.”
“You have no imagination,” Wednesday murmured. “How about band? Surely they could use an adequate pianist and cellist.”
“I don’t like to perform in front of people,” Harry said warily. “What about the Poe Cup? Isn’t Enid doing that?”
“We can’t participate together, it’s divided by dorms,” Wednesday explained, having heard her roommate blather on about it excessively. The Poe Cup was an annual tradition at Nevermore. The four dorms - Ophelia Hall, Apollo Hall, Ares Hall, and Nyx Hall - each competed in a triathlon of sorts; a boat race to the distant side of the lake, followed by a foot race to capture a flag, then a boat race back to be the first to place the flag and win a trophy for their hall.
Enid had taken great pleasure in informing Wednesday that her mother, Morticia, had won the Poe Cup for Ophelia Hall every year that she had attended Nevermore, as if that hadn’t been the final drop of poison in Wednesday’s staunch refusal to participate.
But Harry gave Wednesday a tiny grin, a spark of mischief returning to his dull eyes.
“I bet Enid would make an exception for me when I tell her I know about the adjustments that the boys made to their boat in my hall,” he said. “Ajax is the captain, and he was talking about it on the phone one night.”
“You derive too much pleasure from torturing me,” Wednesday sighed. “Let’s go see if Enid has a need for our assistance.”
Enid, as it turned out, squealed when Harry told her that they wanted to join the team. Want was a strong word to use, but Wednesday grit her teeth and bore it all the same.
“Well there’s really no rules that say that students from other halls can’t join different teams,” Enid gushed. “Really, there’s no rules at all! Ooh, but Ajax might be upset if you help us win, Harry.”
Harry shrugged and eyed the boat that Enid had been working on. It was a large canoe, painted black with a grotesque cat face on the front, likely chosen after ‘The Black Cat’ by Nevermore’s most famous alumni.
“They don’t like me anyway,” Harry said simply. “So can we join? We have to join something…”
“Of course!” Enid cried. She grabbed two paintbrushes from a can and pushed them towards them with a wide smile. “Let’s paint and you guys can tell me all about what happened last night! I’ve heard the craziest rumors!”
Harry, secret psychopath he was, gave Wednesday a quick grin before he shook his head at Enid.
“Sorry, I’ve got an appointment,” he said airily. “I’ll help tomorrow, bye, guys.”
A second betrayal, Wednesday might seek revenge if there was a third anytime soon.
*****
“Harry, I’m so happy you could make it,” Dr. Kinbott said kindly after Harry shuffled in her office and sat in his usual spot.
Harry liked Dr. Kinbott’s office, it was warm and friendly and always smelled like cinnamon. Plus, the sofa he used was squashy and comfortable, an easy place to rest for an hour while they chatted. Dr. Kinbott herself was nice too, despite what Wednesday thought. Harry had liked her immediately when they met, he only ever felt uncomfortable when she went digging too deeply in his head.
“Principal Weems said you wanted to see me,” Harry said politely, if a little stiffly. He didn’t want to go over the events from the night before, he didn’t want to investigate like Wednesday did, he wanted to just pretend it never happened.
“I did,” Dr. Kinbott said. She settled in the chair across from Harry and leaned forward, her blue eyes causing Harry’s neck to prickle until he finally gave her what she wanted and looked up at her.
“Why don’t you tell me what happened during the festival last night?” she probed him. “Who did you go with?”
“Wednesday, Enid, and Tyler,” Harry said, an unwilling blush burning his cheeks at the last name.
Dr. Kinbott smiled, “Tyler? The boy from the coffee shop?”
“Yeah.” Harry grinned unconsciously and patted down his hair. “It was a double date, and it was his idea.”
“How wonderful!” Dr. Kinbott exclaimed, truly looking happy for Harry. “Harry, I can’t tell you how happy I am with all your progress lately! Look at where you were just a few weeks ago, lonely and depressed. Now you’re going to festivals with your friends and cute baristas?” Dr. Kinbott winked playfully, “You’re a true success case, Harry.”
Harry flushed in embarrassed pride then, instead of just embarrassment. He didn’t think he was much of a success story, some nights he was still seized with terror by thinking about his past and his future, but he was much happier recently.
“It’s all thanks to Wednesday,” he said honestly. “I’m trying to be more like her.”
Dr. Kinbott’s lips thinned and she didn’t look happy with that, but then she asked about the attack from the night before so Harry retold the same story that he gave Weems.
“But now they can’t find Rowan’s body and Principal Weems seems to think I’m lying,” Harry finished dejectedly. His eyes moved to the window, he could see part of the coffee shop between the blinds. “And- and I dunno, Tyler probably doesn’t want to be friends since we had to hurry back.”
“First, I want you to know that I believe that you are telling me your truth,” Dr. Kinbott said, which didn’t sound like she believed it was the truth, just that Harry thought it was. “And,” her eyes sparkled and she smiled at him again, “I’m sure if you go for a cup of coffee after our session, you could explain yourself to Tyler and he would still be interested in continuing your relationship.”
Harry hemmed and hawed, but in the end, he slowly made his way toward the coffee shop once his session ended.
Only Tyler wasn’t working and the woman who made Harry his vanilla latte didn’t make it nearly as good as Tyler did.
Harry sipped the bland drink while he slowly made his way back to the school. He crossed the street, going out of his way by a couple of blocks, to avoid the police station where Tyler’s father worked. It had been terrifying being interviewed by him, Harry wasn’t a fan of men with guns and badges. He did appreciate the man defending Harry not using drugs, Harry didn’t fancy having to take a drug test like he did weekly back in lockup.
He’d never done drugs a day in his life, but it hadn’t stopped the officers at the detention center from making Harry urinate in a cup in front of them every week.
Harry had just made it a block past the police station, his back to the building, when a familiar name yelled out for him.
“Harry! Hey!”
Harry glanced over his shoulder and felt his stomach flip with nerves when he saw Tyler jogging toward him.
“Hi,” Harry said lamely, lifting his cup in greeting. He stopped walking and waited for Tyler to catch up. “Er… you weren’t at work.”
“Nah, I had to call off and deal with my dad,” Tyler said. He rolled his eyes and Harry noticed they were a darker shade of grey than his usual mixture of blue-grey. “He wanted to ask a million questions about last night.”
Harry stuffed his empty hand in his pocket and raised his shoulders defensively. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”
“In trouble?” Tyler laughed and waved his hand carelessly. “I told him I didn’t know anything about any attack. But,” the amusement dropped from Tyler’s voice, “but he said you saw a kid get killed?”
“Er… yeah,” Harry said. “I, uh, don’t actually want to talk about it, I’m headed back to school.”
“Mind if I walk with you?” Tyler asked, a hopeful lilt to his tone that filled Harry with relief.
“Yeah, okay,” Harry said. They walked in silence for a few moments until Harry took a sip of his drink and Tyler laughed.
“What was that face?” he asked, nudging Harry with his shoulder. “Did you try out something new today?”
“No,” Harry said sheepishly. “It’s the latte thing you made before, but it just tastes different. Sorry,” he said, realizing that it probably sounded rude to criticize Tyler’s coworker, “I’m just being stupid.”
Tyler, to Harry’s surprise, didn’t laugh at him, instead his cheeks turned a shade of pink and he was the one who dropped his head down with a grin curling his lips up in the corners.
“You’re not stupid,” he said. “I put caramel in yours when I make them, it changes the flavor some.”
“Oh.” Harry steeled himself with a deep breath before he smiled and nudged Tyler’s shoulder, just as friendly and social as Dr. Kinbott thought he could be. “Well yours are better.”
“Thanks,” Tyler flashed a grin at Harry. “I work tomorrow, you know.”
Harry hummed. “Okay,” he said, curious why Tyler was telling him his work schedule.
Tyler coughed. “And it’s Sunday, so no school…”
“Yeah, I think all schools are off on weekends.”
Tyler stopped and stuck his hands in his pockets with a crooked grin and a huff. They were nearly to Nevermore, Harry could see the black gates just a block away.
“I get off work at eight, when we close up,” Tyler said slowly. “So if you came by at like seven, I could make you a drink and we could hang out afterward?”
“Oh. Oh,” Harry blinked and felt rather dense. He smiled slowly and felt warm on the inside, apparently he hadn’t been rubbish the night before after all, not if Tyler wanted to hang out again. “I’d have to be back by ten,” he told him, “I have a curfew.”
“And I have a car,” Tyler said brightly. He took one of his hands out of his pocket and swung it toward Harry, brushing Harry’s fingers wrapped around his cup lightly. “What do you say?”
“Yeah,” Harry said quickly. He cleared his throat and tried to sound more calm. “I mean, sure, if you want,” he said, trying to sound as cool as Wednesday always did.
Tyler laughed and Harry admired the little dimple in his cheek again.
“Cool,” he said. “I should get back, I’ll see you tomorrow then?”
“Tomorrow then,” Harry agreed happily. He watched as Tyler walked backward, not looking away from Harry until he tripped over a curb and Harry laughed a true laugh at him.
By the time Harry made it to dinner, he felt loads better, much less anxious, than he had that morning.
Wednesday noticed Harry’s better mood and scrutinized him suspiciously.
“There is no way that talking with Kinbott made you look like some ridiculous starry eyed idiot,” she said. “Spill, what did you do today?”
“You first,” Harry told her. “You said you did research on me? What research?”
Wednesday narrowed her eyes, but let it pass. Harry didn’t feel like telling his friend about his plans with Tyler just yet, he’d rather keep it to himself for the moment. It was nice to have a secret that didn’t make his insides crawl and eat away at him.
“I believe you’re not as much of a normie as you pretend to be,” Wednesday said, her tone flat, not accusing. “You either have some sort of telekinetic powers like Rowan, or you’re channeling some sort of sorcery.”
“Sorcery,” Harry repeated blankly, pushing away the meal he was no longer interested in. “Like- like magic?” he whispered. Harry had always suspected that his relatives’ accusations of Harry being a freak were true, there were too many instances of Harry making odd things happen for him to dispute it. But magic? Harry had never put a word to the power he occasionally felt before, and he never would have chosen that word for it.
“Or telekinesis,” Wednesday said blithely. “We’ll need to experiment to be— what the hell is that?” she hissed, her eyes locked on the cafeteria doors.
Harry turned to where Wednesday looked and felt his stomach recoil so harshly that he was certain all the food that he’d ate would come back up.
There, looking perfectly healthy and without a single mark on his neck, stood Rowan.
Rowan who was dead. Rowan who—
“I killed him,” Harry breathed, blurting the words out in shock as Rowan looked directly at Harry and Wednesday and waved. “He’s dead.”