Power & the Poe Cup
“I killed him. He’s dead.”
Wednesday slowly looked from where Rowan - Rowan who was dead - stood, collecting his meal, to Harry, who looked as if he were a moment away from passing out.
“What do you mean you killed him?” Wednesday asked in a hushed whisper. Thinking better of where they were, she shook her head and snatched Harry’s wrist instead. She intended to tell him that they should go speak privately, but instead she was seized with a vision.
Not of the future, but the past.
Harry crouched down beside Rowan, his hand fluttering just above Rowan’s barely rising chest. The blood had slowed from the wound at Rowan’s neck and his death seemed imminent.
“You’ll- you’ll destroy everything,” Rowan whispered hoarsely to Harry.
Harry placed his hand over Rowan’s heart and shook his head.
“I’m not destroying anything.”
“Die.”
Green mist left Harry’s fingers, going directly in Rowan’s chest, and Harry cried while the life drained from Rowan’s eyes.
Wednesday left her vision with a violent shiver and a rattling gasp. She looked around furtively, but aside from Harry, it seemed as if no one had noticed.
“Let’s go talk in private,” Wednesday told Harry, who was staring at her with wide eyes.
Harry, ever the eager puppy with endless secrets, easily followed Wednesday from the cafeteria directly toward the dorms. Wednesday considered her vision as they walked and had a difficult time reconciling the shy and lonely boy beside her with the boy in her vision who used some source of magic to send a classmate to his death.
It wasn’t that Rowan didn’t deserve it, but it was still shocking.
Wednesday had never been shocked as much as she had since starting at Nevermore. Perhaps her parents were on to something in sending her there after all.
As soon as they reached Wednesday’s room, Wednesday ushered Harry to sit on the bed then locked the door behind them.
“You killed Rowan,” she said bluntly before revising her words. “You killed Rowan before he would have died anyway.”
“I…” Harry fidgeted with his sleeves, pulling on them anxiously while his eyes looked everywhere except at Wednesday.
“Tell me the truth!” Wednesday demanded. “Quit lying to me!”
“Yes!” Harry yelled abruptly. He jumped to his feet and began pacing while his hands moved to his hair and he began pulling on it. “He was going to kill us! He’d already tried! I couldn’t let him kill you! You’re my best mate, the first real friend I’ve ever had! And he was going to kill you if I didn’t get him first! But now he’s back and I DON’T KNOW HOW!”
Wednesday refused to be distracted by Harry’s patriarchal view that he had to kill Rowan to protect her as she had planned on killing Rowan to protect Harry as well.
“You knew you aren’t a normie then,” Wednesday said, attempting to keep the accusation from her tone. “You already knew you had powers.”
Harry paused his pacing long enough to make a scathing noise.
“What good is having powers if I can’t control them?” he said bitterly. “Sometimes they do what I want, sometimes they just make everything worse.”
Wednesday sat at her desk and gave Harry an expectant look.
“Tell me about them,” she ordered him. “I think we can conclude that you’re definitely not using telekinesis.”
“No, I’m not,” Harry admitted quietly. He stopped pacing in front of Wednesday and stared down at the floor. “What do you want to know?”
Everything.
“Everything,” Wednesday said. “Start at the beginning.”
Harry took a deep breath and Wednesday heard it shake before he slowly sat down directly on the floor with his legs crossed and began talking, like a boy in a trance.
“It started when I was a kid,” he whispered. “Weird stuff, freaky. One day my teacher in primary ignored a kid that was kicking me and next thing I knew, her hair was blue.”
Petty, but impressive.
“Another time, my cousin and his friends were chasing me, Harry Hunting,” Harry made a pained noise and Wednesday had the irrational urge to grasp his hand in comfort. “I disappeared, reappeared on a rooftop.
“Another time, I knew I’d get locked in my cupboard for burning dinner and suddenly—”
“Stop.” Wednesday’s blood was boiling and she stared hard at Harry until he lifted eyes glistening with uncomfortable tears to her face. “Precisely what do you mean ‘your cupboard’?”
“Just what I said,” Harry told her in a quivering voice. “My aunt and uncle don’t like me much, I slept in a cupboard under our staircase until I started St Brutus’. I’ll probably sleep there again this summer.”
The Addams Mansion had a cupboard beneath their stairs as well- it was filled with a variety of literal skeletons, friendly spiders, and outdated weapons, not teenage boys.
Well. Wednesday had locked Pugsley in there once, but he’d been small and easy to lock up. Even if Harry wasn’t the tallest boy in their school, he was much too big to comfortably fit in a cupboard.
“We’ll come back to that,” Wednesday decided with a rush of cold anger. How dare someone lock her Harry in a cupboard? She would see how Harry’s relatives enjoyed being locked up in something small, dark, and confining.
A coffin, perhaps.
“What else?” Wednesday asked Harry. “You seemed to have control of your power when you ordered it to kill Rowan.”
Not that Rowan had the common courtesy to stay dead it seemed.
“A fluke,” Harry shrugged. “When I got us down from the tree, it was an accident. I just wanted us to be freed and suddenly we were. When I wanted Rowan to die, he died.”
Wednesday studied Harry for a moment and determined that he seemed to be telling the truth. He was a horrid liar, his eyes were like windows directly to his thoughts.
“Try and do something now,” Wednesday said. “Something easy, like make your own hair blue.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Harry said irritably. “Do you think if I could control it I wouldn’t use it to make everything better? I can scream ‘turn my hair blue’ for hours and it won’t work!”
“Humor me,” Wednesday said drily.
Harry glared at her then lifted his hand, letting it hover just above his messy hair. “Turn blue,” he said clearly. They both watched as nothing happened and Harry’s hair remained as dark black as always.
“Try again,” Wednesday said.
Harry sighed. “Turn blue!” he said, putting an emphasis on his words.
“Again.”
“TURN BLUE!” Harry yelled.
Wednesday held back a gasp when a single lock of Harry’s hair lifted up and turned a bright shade of blue before falling directly in his face once more.
Harry’s eyes snapped to Wednesday and his face paled. “Did it work?” he whispered.
Wednesday nodded mutely, that streak of blue the only thing she could see.
“See what I mean?” Harry asked her, sounding bleak instead of amazed by his own powers. “It doesn’t always work.”
“Do you know how rare sorcery is?” Wednesday asked him, still amazed by the blue. “If you could learn to control it…”
“I don’t want to control it!” Harry yelled, startling poor Thing who nearly fell off Wednesday’s desk. “I want it to go away! I just want to be normal!”
“Normal?” Wednesday nearly laughed. “Why would you ever want to be normal when you could be yourself?”
Harry’s fingers began their irritating fidgeting again and he watched himself twist his shirt up over and over.
“People don’t like me,” he told her without looking at her. “If I was normal, maybe they would.”
Wednesday sighed silently and made a quick decision before she slid to the floor and knelt in front of Harry. She reached out slowly and placed her hands over his to stop their incessant twisting.
“If you ever tell anyone what I’m about to say, they will never find your body,” Wednesday warned him, staring directly in Harry’s eyes. She waited for his nod of agreement before continuing, “I happen to like you. And I would hardly do so if you were something as tragic as ‘normal’.”
Harry sniffled at her. “Really?”
“Yes,” Wednesday said firmly. “Now end this display of emotions before I break out in hives. We have a busy night ahead of us. You need to fix your hair, we have sabotage to create, and we need to find out how Rowan survived when we both saw him die.”
Harry swiped his nose with his arm in a disgusting manner while Wednesday got up and turned her back to him, giving him privacy to clean himself up. She studied her board on the deaths in Jericho that were committed by the monster they saw and glared harshly as she realized that the mysteries in Nevermore seemed to be never ending.
They had a monster killing people in the woods.
They had a dead boy eating dinner in the cafeteria.
There was a prophecy involving both Wednesday and Harry.
And then there was Harry himself… Harry who seemed to be one secret after another. Harry with his murder conviction and his feral attack dog that supposedly followed him from England to the United States. Harry who approached a monster and was left unharmed.
Harry who ended Rowan’s life with the power he couldn’t control.
Harry who chose that moment to speak up-
“Oh, yeah, and I can talk to snakes,” he said casually, his voice still soft but no longer quivering. “That’s weird, right?”
Wednesday sighed heavily.
One secret after another, indeed.
*****
Harry woke up on Sunday morning in a surprisingly good mood considering all that happened the day before.
He brushed his teeth and grinned at the blue streak in his hair that he hadn’t been able to switch back to black. Truthfully, he thought maybe it didn’t work because once he spotted it in Enid’s mirror, he’d rather liked it despite what Wednesday said about it blinding her with its brightness.
And Wednesday…
Wednesday listened to Harry tell her about the power he had that flowed and ebbed on occasion and at the end of it, she still wanted to be his friend. She didn’t think he was a freak or a monster, she thought he was unique and special.
Harry wanted to believe her so badly.
Even after they talked, while they worked on the canoe for Ophelia Hall, Wednesday didn’t act any differently toward Harry than she always had. If anything, Harry thought maybe they were better friends than before.
There was still the mystery of Rowan and the prophecy and the monster to resolve, but Harry couldn’t find it within himself to worry too much about it that morning.
First they had the Poe Cup, then Harry had his sort of date with Tyler afterward.
It was going to be a good day.
“This is going to be a terrible day,” Wednesday scowled when they went outside together. The sun was shining and it was warm enough that Harry felt comfortable in just a tshirt and jeans. He wouldn’t be competing in the race, but he wore a black shirt to support the Ophelia colors. Harry’s own hall, Apollo Hall, wore red, Ares Hall wore green, and Nyx Hall wore purple.
Harry had gotten a rude gesture from his roommate, Ajax, when he saw Harry donning black that morning, but Harry brushed him off. Ajax had never liked Harry, right from the start, so Harry didn’t waste time trying to befriend him.
The students in Apollo Hall had never acted like Harry was one of them, so pretending to support them was pointless. Harry would rather support Wednesday and Enid instead, since they were actually his friends.
“At least it’s a nice day,” Harry said bracingly to Wednesday.
Wednesday stared deadpan at Harry. “Which is precisely why the day will be so terrible,” she insisted. “I burn in the sun, Harry.”
Harry shrugged, his good mood was surprisingly unshakeable. “Use a hat like Yoko,” he said, pointing to their vampire classmate who had a large brimmed sunhat on protecting her skin.
Wednesday rolled her eyes then stopped before they made them back to a normal position.
“Harry,” she whispered, reaching out to grasp his wrist, “is that Rowan I see?”
Harry followed her gaze to the parking lot in front of the school and froze as he watched their definitely dead classmate load a box in Miss Thornhill’s car.
“What’s he doing?” Harry asked curiously. “Is he leaving?”
Wednesday hummed. “Shall we go ask?”
Harry gave Wednesday a disbelieving look then dropped his head guiltily.
“If he tells Miss Thornhill what I did then I’m going back to lockup,” Harry whispered.
“Harry, he tried to kill us first,” Wednesday reminded him. “And as he’s quite clearly alive, it would be difficult to convict you of his murder. I’m going to talk to him.”
Harry hesitated as he watched Rowan load another box in the boot of their teacher’s car and shook his head.
“I’ll go help Enid,” he said. “Er… just let me know what he says.”
“Will do, coward,” Wednesday said before she stalked away toward Rowan.
It was fine for Wednesday to call Harry a coward, she’d never suffered through lockup. Harry would rather die than ever go back there.
Enid was chatting away to Harry about the Poe Cup while he helped her move her canoe to the lake. Harry listened with a bemused smile. Enid had never talked to Harry even once before Wednesday arrived. Now, suddenly, Harry was being filled in on everything from how she painted her nails with cat faces to the lucky socks she wore just for the contest.
It would be rude if Harry wasn’t simply excited to be involved in the event.
Just after they lined the Ophelia canoe up with the others, Wednesday returned.
“Rowan’s been expelled and he claims to have no idea what I was talking about when I asked him about the other night,” Wednesday told Harry flatly. “I don’t know how he’s alive, but perhaps your magic is faulty.”
“It is,” Harry agreed with a shrug. “But… but I’ve never seen someone die and then come back to life later.”
Wednesday gave Harry a sharp look that caused his insides to flip, but Enid began eagerly squealing about Wednesday’s costume for the race before they could discuss it further.
Harry stood watch over their canoe while Wednesday went to change, preventing any of their classmates from sabotaging their boat as they had theirs, and was enjoying the sunshine on his arms when he heard someone mention his name.
“… figures they’d have Potter helping him, freaks are always sticking together.”
Harry’s face burned and he curled his shoulders up while he traced a pattern in the sand with the toe of his trainer. If Harry were a better person, he’d yell at the group of gossips dressed in purple that Wednesday and Enid weren’t freaks, but Harry wasn’t a better person.
It was another unfair facet of life that in a school for outcasts, there were still those who saw Harry as a freak.
“One normie freak, one creepy goth, and a fake werewolf,” Harry heard Bianca Barclay laugh loudly. “This is going to be so easy it might not even be fun.”
Harry felt anger well up in him at Bianca’s words and hoped with everything he had that she would be eating her words soon. If all went according to Wednesday’s plan, there was no way Ophelia wouldn’t win the cup.
Wednesday looked furious enough to tear Bianca’s canoe apart with her bare hands when she and Enid’s returned with the other girls on their team. Harry grinned at the cat ears and whiskers that Enid had clearly given her.
“Do not,” Wednesday snarled when Harry opened his mouth to comment on it. “I am doing this against my will.”
“Well you look adorable,” Enid told her brightly, winking at Harry when he tried to hide a laugh behind a cough. “Harry, cheer us on, okay?”
“And if anyone returns with a flag before us, kill them,” Wednesday ordered him, probably as a jest.
“Kick their arses,” Harry told them nervously. He didn’t usually curse, as it would have gotten the cane at St Brutus’ and a demerit in lockup, but it felt like the thing to say then and Harry almost felt free by using the relatively innocent curse.
“Good luck,” he added quickly, covering the brief flare of panic he had for swearing.
“We don’t need luck, we have Wednesday,” Enid said happily as she linked her arm with Wednesday’s, causing Wednesday’s scowl to darken to an entirely new level.
“I’m not a lucky talisman,” Wednesday snarled. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”
Harry didn’t think so. Harry thought that Wednesday, as doom and gloom as she acted, had brought Harry loads of luck since she arrived.
Two attempts on his life too, but that wasn’t really her fault.
And Wednesday did seem to be a lucky talisman, despite what she said, because for the first time in fifteen years, Ophelia Hall won the Poe Cup when two of the other boats sunk and Enid beat Ajax at the final leg of the race.
Harry clapped loudly and smiled directly at Bianca Barclay when Enid accepted the Poe Cup and caught Wednesday in an excited hug.
Harry knew it was going to be a good day.
The Weathervane Coffee Shop was empty when Harry nervously entered that evening, only a few minutes past seven. He would have been on time, but Wednesday tried to argue that she should go with him. She called Harry a danger magnet, Harry insisted that he’d survived up until then. They bickered and Harry almost caved until Wednesday said she had research to do anyway but that he ‘better be careful’.
It was odd, but nice too, having someone that worried about Harry, even if Wednesday was a bit overbearing about it.
Tyler had been sweeping behind the counter, but he stopped and grinned when the bell above the door signaled Harry’s arrival.
“Hey,” he said, seemingly happy to see Harry, “you made it.”
“I made it,” Harry said. He approached the counter slowly and sat in one of the stools there. “Er… how’s work?”
“Pretty boring,” Tyler said with a shrug. He eyed Harry’s dyed hair and he gained a sparkle in his eyes. “I’m digging the new look.”
Harry felt his neck get warm and he ducked his head, suddenly shy.
“Thanks,” he said.
Tyler cleared his throat after a moment and leaned against the counter that Harry sat at. “So how’s your day been? Done anything exciting besides add some blue to your ‘do?”
“It’s been brilliant, actually,” Harry said, feeling surprised by the honest response. “Ophelia Hall won the Poe Cup.”
Tyler blinked and his smile slipped a little. “I don’t know what that means,” he admitted.
“Oh.” Harry felt stupid and didn’t know what to say. He was incredibly bad at talking to people who weren’t Wednesday, apparently.
“So maybe you could tell me about it?” Tyler suggested, erasing Harry’s sense of awkwardness.
“Sure.”
Tyler was a good listener, asking questions at different spots and laughing at the right moments, while Harry explained what the Poe Cup was and how the different dorms competed to win the trophy to display in their hall.
“But Ophelia Hall is the girls dorm, right?” Tyler asked, sliding Harry a drink he insisted was ‘on the house’.
“Right,” Harry nodded, blushing and grinning like an idiot at the foamy heart on the top of his drink.
“So it’s not your dorm?”
“No, I live in Apollo Hall.”
Tyler frowned for a moment. “So why did you help the other team win?”
Harry took a drink to stall, “I… uh… I don’t have many friends in my hall,” he admitted. “Wednesday was sort of my first friend, really.”
“No way,” Tyler scoffed with a crooked grin. “I have a hard time believing Wednesday is anyone’s friend.”
That time Harry was the one who frowned.
“Wednesday is brilliant,” Harry told him. “She’s the best friend I could ask for.”
“Hey, sorry.” Tyler held his hands up innocently. “I was just teasing,” he said quickly. “Don’t take friendship advice from me, I have exactly zero friends in this shit town.”
Harry felt a pang of empathy, it was hard not having any friends.
“Why don’t you have any friends?” Harry asked quietly. Sure, people thought Harry was a freak, a weirdo, too quiet, too odd, but Tyler seemed… normal. He was friendly, funny, and (Harry would privately admit) rather cute. There weren’t any real reasons for Tyler to be as lonely as Harry always had been.
Tyler sighed and poured himself a cup of coffee, a rich blend that Harry liked the smell of, then leaned against the counter and frowned in his cup.
“I used to have friends here in town, Lucus and Brian and some of the town kids,” Tyler said. “But then we got in some trouble together, tore up a mural one of your classmates made. Lucus’ dad is the mayor, so he was off the hook. My dad blew up, I spent the summer at this camp for ‘troubled teens’,” Tyler scoffed.
“When I got back, I didn’t want to get in trouble again, and they didn’t want to hang out anyway, so I’ve been sort of a lone wolf ever since.”
Harry shifted anxiously in his chair, Tyler’s story hitting a little too close to home.
“I was in lockup for a while,” Harry impulsively admitted. “So I don’t like to get in trouble either.”
Tyler lifted his face and bit his lip for a moment. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Harry said. He tried to grin, take some of the tension away. “I nearly wet myself when your dad came to talk to me.”
Tyler laughed and the air between them cleared away.
“My dad can be a real hard-ass,” he said. “He wasn’t too hard on you, was he?”
“No, he actually, er… I think he believed me about Rowan and the monster,” Harry told him. He grinned a little when he remembered another part of the interrogation with Tyler’s dad. “And he said you don’t do drugs so he didn’t think I did either.”
Tyler’s sandy colored brows rose on his forehead. “Really? That’s like the nicest thing my dad has ever said about me.”
That… that seemed like a peculiar thing to say. Harry didn’t ask about it though while Tyler began closing down the store. He waited until they were sitting in Tyler’s little silver car in the parking lot before he brought the topic up.
“So, do you and your dad not get along much?” Harry asked, reminding himself that he was allowed to be curious about things.
Dr. Kinbott said Harry was a success case and he was determined to prove her right.
Tyler sighed lightly as he kicked his car on, a wrinkle between his brows forming.
“Not really, no. We don’t talk much, he always works and ever since my mom died a few years ago it’s like we’re just… just strangers who share a house.”
Harry felt an irrational urge to reach out and touch Tyler’s fingers that were wrapped around the steering wheel. Who knew more than Harry how it felt to be a stranger in a place that was meant to be home?
“I’m sorry,” Harry said softly, meaning it. “My parents died when I was a baby, so I didn’t really know them, but I wish they were still here.”
“I wish my mom was back so much,” Tyler said, choking up on his words. He squeezed his eyes shut and Harry finally caved on his impulse to reach out and touch him. Tyler opened his eyes when Harry’s fingers lightly grazed his knuckles and Harry got caught in his stormy blue gaze.
“You get it, don’t you?” Tyler asked Harry, quiet as the night.
“Get what?”
Tyler turned his hand and laced his fingers through Harry’s, squeezing tightly.
“How it feels to wish that everything was different, that you could be free from everything,” Tyler breathed. “You get it, right?”
Harry had never understood anything more.
“Yeah, I get it.”
Tyler’s responding smile was sad and sweet, but the kiss he gave Harry, Harry’s first ever kiss, was warm and sure.
Harry had known it would be a good day from the moment he woke up.
*****
Harry’s words kept replaying in Wednesday’s head the entire triathlon and during her brief argument against Harry going on some lame date alone.
“I’ve never seen someone die and then come back to life later.”
It sounded almost as if Harry had seen more than just his prior victim and Rowan die before.
“I need to use your computer,” Wednesday told Enid briskly as soon as she entered their room.
Enid gave Wednesday an amused smirk and pushed herself away from her desk. “Oh? I thought you didn’t want to be a slave to technology?”
Wednesday rolled her eyes. “On occasion, one must be willing to make sacrifices.”
“Have at it then,” Enid said breezily. “I’m going to Yoko’s room anyway, we’re having a celebration party!” Enid paused by the doorway, glancing to where Wednesday had already taken her chair. “Do you want to come?”
“No,” Wednesday said in a curt manner, already pulling up the internet browser. “Goodbye.”
“Whatever. Bye.”
Wednesday ignored Enid’s brisk attitude change, clearly sharing a room with her was rubbing off on Miss Rainbow Bright, and flexed her fingers before beginning her research.
“Let’s find your story, shall we, Harry?” Wednesday murmured. She began simple, typing in the name of the town Harry grew up in. According to his school records, he lived with Vernon and Petunia Dursley in Little Whinging, Surrey.
After searching the name of the town and finding nothing but ridiculous recreational websites, Wednesday’s search became more pointed.
‘Unsolved crime Little Whinging, Surrey’ got her a hit. Wednesday checked the dates on the crime, then printed off the information, along with the public crime scene photos, then moved on to her next search.
‘Unsolved crime St Brutus's Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys’ brought many more results than the search in Little Whinging had. Unsurprisingly, placing groups of boys with criminal tendencies in one place tended to raise the crime rates for the area.
Shocking.
Wednesday scanned through the ones that occurred during the years Harry attended the school and then printed off information on two that matched the case in Little Whinging. She also printed off the information for the crime that Harry had been convicted of while he had been there.
Moving chronologically, Wednesday looked at Feltham Young Offenders Institution during the nine months Harry was an inmate there, finding nothing, she moved on to Jericho since Harry arrived back in September.
Nothing until the night of Rowan’s death.
“Help me hang these,” Wednesday told Thing after collecting her papers from Enid’s printer. The two of them started a new board, one alongside the board for the murders committed by the monster.
Once they were finished, Wednesday stepped back to inspect Harry’s board.
Piers Polkiss, age ten, from Little Whinging.
Chase Alexander, age fifteen, from St Brutus.
Abraham Tyson, age fourteen, from St Brutus.
The death Harry had been convicted for, Lawrence Hamilton, age 32, a guard at St Brutus.
And Rowan Laslow, age fifteen, Nevermore.
The first three had died from unknown causes, possible monoxide poisoning, despite the fact that Piers had been found outdoors. Lawrence Hamilton had been cut open across the chest and found in a room locked from the inside with Harry holding a knife. Rowan had been bitten by the dog, but Harry was certain he killed him, despite the fact that they saw him at dinner the night before.
Wednesday looked toward Thing and raised her brows. “Do you know what this means?”
“Our Harry is quite the accomplished serial killer.”