Chapter 7
"I'm quitting school." Ron grumbled, trying his hand at the Charms exercise again and failing miserably. A pile of attempts was mounting next to him.
"You've said that once a week for the past two and near-a-half years." Hermione answered flatly. "Clearly, you aren't." She caught Rebecca's eye and gave her a grin.
The Infunde charm, as it was, was particularly complicated. It required mental discipline and a recalling of a past event. Once the memory was held at the front of your mind, you could cast the spell and transfer your mind's image onto a surface.
Rebecca loved it.
The transferring of a mental image to the physical was the most magical thing she had learned yet and she had a knack for it that sent Ron into a frenzy.
"Excellent work, Rebecca!" Professor Flitwick clapped his hands as he made his rounds, checking the time. "It's quite alright students, we will be focusing on the Infunde charm until the end of term. Perfection is not where one starts but where one aims to get with hard work, after all."
The bells tolled across campus, sending the students scurrying out. "I don't get it, I remembered it just fine."
"It's not about just remembering." Rebecca said, shaking her head. "You've got to put yourself back then too."
"How the hell am I supposed to do that?" Ron asked, digging around in his bag for a snack. "I forgot a bloody-Thank you." Rebecca held out a biscuit from her own bag, raising an eyebrow until Ron took it and stuck his tongue out at her. "I'm still going to be cross. At least until the match, then I'll be fine."
"Why?" Harry asked, trying to make his best friend make sense.
"Because I'll get to watch you crush Hufflepuff and that is always a mood-lifter." Ron answered drolly.
"Hey!" Fred ran up beside them, panting. "It's your Defence day, right?"
Rebecca nodded. "Are you alright? You look-"
"It's Snape today, Lupin's out." Fred checked the time, cursing. "I had to warn you, he's in a foul one."
Rebecca and Harry sighed, Hermione linking her arm through Harry's while Rebecca gravitated towards the back of their group. "Thank you for telling us. You won't be late, will you?"
Fred grinned. "I'll just say I was with you, McGonagall won't need anymore explanation."
Rebecca laughed, pushing him back towards the direction he'd come in. "Better hurry or you'll be late to practise too and no one wants that."
Fred shuddered, nodding seriously. "You're right. Oliver would lose his mind. I'll see you later!"
Rebecca shoulder her bag tightly, walking happily despite the fact that now they would have to deal with Snape two days in a row. Charms had gone magnificently, everyone was getting along, it was easy to look up at the day ahead.
And then Snape entered the classroom with a wave of fury washing off of him. He waved his wand at the windows so the shutters slammed shut, bathing them in darkness. He only stopped when he was at the front of the classroom, staring back at the wide-eyed students with distaste. "Turn to page 394."
"Excuse me, sir." Hermione raised her hand, seeing the topic of the section Snape directed them to. "We haven't started nocturnal creature defenses, yet. We've just begun Hinkypunks and Red Caps."
"Quiet." Snape droned, directing their attention to the board. "Which of you can tell me the difference between an Animagus and a werewolf?"
Rebecca sat, quietly reading through the text. There was no point in raising her hand in a Snape-led class because no matter how perfect her answer, there would be fault in it.
"No one?" Snape ignored Hermione's raised hand. "How disappointing."
"Hermione seems to know." Rebecca blurted out. "Sir."
"Five points from Gryffindor for insolence." Snape countered immediately. "Careful, Potter. Wouldn't want to get yourself benched through your next match, would you?"
Hermione grabbed Rebecca's leg under the table, pushing forward with the correct answer. "Please, sir. An animagus is a wizard who elects to turn into an animal. A werewolf has no choice."
Snape narrowed his eyes on Hermione, seeing how she wanted the spotlight of his attention instead of Rebecca. "Miss Granger, that is the second time you have spoken out of turn. Are you incapable of restraining yourself or do you take pride in being an insufferable know-it-all?"
Hermione looked down at her book and tightened her grip on Rebecca. The words of a bully would not bring either of them into detention, Hermione wouldn't let it.
"As an antidote to your ignorance, on my desk by Monday evening will be two rolls of parchment on the werewolf with particular emphasis on recognising it."
"It's Quidditch tomorrow!" Harry said, leaning back as Snape appeared in front of him.
Scowling at the mass of dark hair and round glasses Harry was known for, Snape fumed. "Then I suggest you start early, Mister Potter."
Rebecca was quiet on the way out of class, filing away the anger of extended time with Snape to not ruin lunch. Harry, on the other hand, was unable to. 'Insufferable know-it-all' echoed through Harry's mind, filling him with anger.
"You are not insufferable!" He near-shouted, hitting the table and bringing about a clatter of utensils and unwanted attention.
Hermione nodded once, taking a sandwich and splitting it so that Harry had half and Hermione the other. "Okay, but it's over."
"What's over?" Fred asked, sliding onto the bench next to Rebecca.
"Nothing." Hermione said quickly, giving the others a look that clearly said they weren't to share what had happened or what had been said. "Do you lot have practise tonight?"
"With Oliver in his last year?" George sniggered. "Of course. Fred and I have all the Buckbeak notes--in the order you gave them to us--in our room. Ron can grab them and you can go over them while we're gone."
"It's coming up." Rebecca found her voice, though her tone was dark. "Buckbeak's trial is so soon, are we ready?"
"We will be." Hermione was so sure of it, none of them could help but feel sure of it too.
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"Can I see your goggles, Harry?" Rebecca had her hair pulled up the best she could and her goggles around her neck. She hated them, hated how claustrophobic they left her feeling, and as a result tended to keep her glasses on as long as possible. "Anti-fog charm." Harry's hesitation brought about a brief explanation.
Harry handed them over. "We're going to win, alright?"
"I don't care if we win." Harry looked over her shoulder, making sure Oliver couldn't hear her blasphemous.
"Why? What's wrong?" Harry had seen this look on her before, this distance. Nothing good had ever come from it.
"I don't know." Rebecca seemed to jolt back into herself, blinking. "But we're going to win. You said so, after all. What does it matter?"
Angelina clapped Rebecca's shoulder, pulling her into a tight circle of just the three chasers. "We're going to play just like we have in our drills."
Katie nodded, adding to Angelina. "We're going to pass, connect, score!"
"We're going to play as a team." Rebecca added last, holding them tightly before they joined Oliver's procession of the team.
Fred and George brought up the back, catching Rebecca's eyes and offering identical smiles of impending mischief.
"Go! Go! Gryffindor!" The cheers from the stands reached them all the way from the team room and only grew louder as they approached the pitch. The team had hardly lifted off when the first drops of rain began to fall.
The quaffle had hardly been released when the first boom of thunder echoed.
Soon, Lee's voice announcing the action taking place was all most students were relying on as the rain pelted them so ferociously only the most die-hard of fans could keep their eyes to the sky.
The most die-hard, that is, and those with best friends up in between the bolts of lightning. Hermione scanned the match carefully, watching as Rebecca dove and ducked between Hufflepuff chasers trying for the quaffle she always kept just out of their reach.
Harry, high above, circled the pitch. He did one round clockwise, then anti-clockwise.
"Gryffindor in possession of the quaffle again, Spinnett throwing to Bell to Potter Weasley who drops and-Hufflepuff tries for the quaffle and misses! Potter Weasley throws back to Bell who sends it through the center post. Ten more points for Gryffindor!"
Harry shivered as the rain picked up another notch. He was cold and that only made him worry if Rebecca was, too. The rain up in the air hardly felt like the drops it did on the ground, it felt like icy stones that cut through his kit and the layer beneath Rebecca insisted he wear.
Harry turned and raised a hand in celebration, Rebecca scored her first goal of the match.
He hadn't even laid his hand back on his broomstick when he saw it in one of the now-emptied spectator stands. The dog, the Grim. Then Harry felt it.
The icy approach of dementors.
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Minutes before, Rebecca and Katie were spinning circles around the Hufflepuff chasers. Angelina directed them around the pitch, taking a shot when it was opportune but focusing on keeping the other chasers off Rebecca and Katie for the most part.
The rain had only grown stronger and colder, the wind battering them about roughly.
Rebecca scored again, bringing about Hufflepuff groans and Gryffindor cheers from the stands. Rebecca pulled her broom to a stop as the screams she-loved-but-wouldn't-admit-to changed. They weren't of house pride or scream pride, they were terrified shrieks.
Rebecca looked up to see what they were looking at, what could send them all into such a frenzy. Instantly, Rebecca was in motion.
The students were screaming because the dementors had appeared over the pitch, appeared closing in on Harry above. There was uncountable numbers of them, all swarming on Harry. Rebecca hunched over, begging her broom to go faster.
This was not happening.
The wind fought against her, adding another battle to fight as she forced her broom into a near vertical climb. The first wave of dementors were easy to push through--She had momentum. But the second were harder.
They reached for her, icy hands leaving icy marks along her arms. Rebecca felt her blood run cold in her veins and she could feel her happiness leaving. Rebecca was a husk in motion, a body without its insides still moving because that was all she could do.
She tried to hold everything important to her closely. Harry and the family they had found in each other. The Weasleys and the family she had found in them. Fred and the-
Rebecca was still fighting up when Harry fell. Rebecca had been near the dementors too long, she heard the scream of the man--he man she and Harry hypothesized to be their father while he heard their mother--and she turned her broom to the ground.
Harry was falling but Rebecca was flying and she kept his unmoving body aligned with the nose of her broom as they both soared to the ground racing up to meet them.
Fred and George could see that she would not make it, not before Harry hit the ground. They could also see that she wouldn't stop--Couldn't.
Rebecca pulled up only as they intercepted her path, though she knew what it meant. She wouldn't have gotten to Harry in time, she would have failed him. "No!" Fred and George had never heard her scream, not like that. "No, let me go! If he-HARRY!"
Rebecca fought against them. How dare they? How dare they stop her, keep her from him? They knew that if Harry was gone that she needed to be there, to bring him back to her because she would not, could not, lose the brother she had barely been able to have. Fred and George didn't react to her fists, though desperation fueled them.
Rebecca managed to escape their grasps and she abandoned her broom before she had even landed entirely.
Lee's announcement that the match was over, that Hufflepuff had caught the snitch, went unheard.
Rebecca was focused only on the sounds coming from Harry's chest, her ear firmly against it. His body had been caught, levitating centimeters off the ground that would have killed him had he hit it, and his heart beat slowly.
Rebecca held her hands to his cheeks, willing him to wake up and tell her he was fine, but his body only trembled. Rebecca noticed the professors had made their way to she and Harry because Professor McGonagall bent down next to her, laying her hand on Rebecca's.
"We're going to get him to Madam Pomfrey, come away."
Rebecca wondered if this was what it was like to be underwater, to hear things and have them not make sense. She kept her attention on Harry, brushing the hair off his forehead lightly. His lightning bolt--identical to hers--was the only colour on Harry's face.
Professor Lupin knelt down and pulled Rebecca to her feet. McGonagall put her arm around her in an instant, letting Rebecca hold her. Rebecca reached up and pulled her goggles down around her neck, not caring if the world was blurry and out of focus. She felt like she couldn't breathe.
The Gryffindor team formed a procession behind Harry's levitated body, Dumbledore keeping Harry in the air until he could be set down in a bed. McGonagall didn't move away from Rebecca, though she did use the sleeve of her cloak to wipe away the tears making clean streaks in the muck of the muddy match on her face.
Ron and Hermione entered sopping wet minutes later, while Madam Pomfrey was still casting her diagnostic spells. Ron had a bundle in his arms, all that remained of Harry's broom. "It flew into the Whomping Willow." Ron murmured, setting it down and leaving a kiss on the side of Rebecca's head.
"There will be no lasting injuries." Madam Pomfrey reassured, turning around and pulling a blanket up over Harry. Rebecca let out a choked sob. Relief didn't take away her worries but seemed to compound over her, overwhelming her. McGonagall pulled her a little closer, holding the back of her head. "I want to keep him over the weekend for observation, however."
McGonagall blinked away her own tears, watching as Angelina passed a box of tissues down the muddy, emotionally-wrought team. Rebecca pieced herself back together bit by bit, taking one of the tissues McGonagall had taken for her.
"Minerva?" Lupin walked into the room, pausing at Harry's bed. "Albus would like a word in the hall."
Rebecca detached herself from the professor's side, thanking her. McGonagall looked at Harry in the bed one more time before leaving with a brushing of Rebecca's cheek. Professor Lupin stayed with them, pulling a chocolate bar from his coat. "I insist, children. Chocolate warms the soul."
They all nibbled at their pieces, finding the words to be true. Lupin pulled a chair up to the one Rebecca sat in, giving her another when she had finished. Before long, he too had been called back out into the hall.
Remus couldn't help but see the shadows of another black-haired friend he had had years ago in the look Rebecca gave him as he left.
Fred and George slipped in past Lupin at the door, their arms filled with towels and blankets for the dripping team that had yet to leave their seeker's bedside. Rebecca pushed herself to her feet, waiting until their hands were empty to stand in front of them.
"Fred, George..." Rebecca let the lump at the base of her throat grow, knowing it was keeping her from crying. It passed without tears falling. "I never should have hit you. I am sorry, more sorry than you can know." Rebecca paused, looking them both in the eyes. Fred froze under her gaze, seeing how serious she was. "If anything had happened, I would have needed to-"
Rebecca was silenced as they wrapped her into their arms, not letting the possibility be spoken. It could have happened, but it didn't.
"I'm so sorry." Rebecca breathed, holding them tightly.
"We're fine." Fred reached into his shirt, pulling out her glasses. He'd hung them between his kit and his shirt because he knew how she hated the goggles. "How is he?"
"Being kept over the weekend for observation." Rebecca relayed, sliding her glasses on. "Madam Pomfrey says no lasting effects."
"That's good." George nodded, looking Rebecca over and finding nothing broken on the outside. "We would have done it, too."
Fred held George's arm a little tighter. "If anything happened to you, or Ginny, or Ron, or...any of you. We would fight like hell to get to you."
George rubbed his chest. "It's a good thing we don't have a boxing team though."
Rebecca stepped forward and hugged them both again, closing her eyes as she was enveloped.
"...win?" Rebecca jerked back, looking to Harry's bed. "Did...we?" Harry tried to push himself up, but Rebecca laid a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "Where am I?"
"The Hospital Wing, you arsehole." Rebecca leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "No, we did not win."
"Wood's drowning himself in the showers." Katie offered. "So, worst case, we at least won't have practise?"
Harry made a face at the news of their loss. The team backed away towards the door, giving Harry the privacy of just Rebecca, Ron, and Hermione. "Really, Harry? You're still thinking about quidditch?"
Harry tried for a wry smile, managing a slight grimace. "I like to be consistent. What happened?"
Rebecca grabbed Harry's hand and Ron looked down at the sheets, neither of them able to give words to what had happened. Hermione slid her chair closer, busying herself with a fray in Harry's blanket. "You were up above, remember?"
"Yeah."
"The dementors went onto the pitch, swarms of them." Hermione saw the second it all rushed back to Harry, saw the desolation enter his eyes.
"I remember." Harry said in a small voice, looking to Rebecca. "You were going up, that was the last thing I saw."
"I fought to get to you." Rebecca said, holding his hand tighter. She leaned forward and put her forehead on his arm. "I fought."
"I know." Harry loosened his hand from hers and brought it around her shoulders.
"That's not all though." Ron gestured to the splintered broom on the bed next to him. "Straight into the Whomping Willow and...well, you know how angry that tree gets at being hit."
Harry scowled, remembering well enough.
Madam Pomfrey hurried back into the room with Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Lupin close behind. "Do you have any pain?"
"No, not really." Harry hurt, but just the usual level. Nothing out of the ordinary--Nothing that required reporting.
"What about dizziness or double vision?" Madam Pomfrey raised her wand and had Harry follow it with his eyes.
"Only over there." Harry nodded towards Fred and George who appeared at the foot of the bed.
Madam Pomfrey took a moment to understand. "Mister Potter! I would appreciate it if you would not use my hospital bed as practise for your stand-up routine!" Madam Pomfrey shook her head, a smile playing at her lips.
"Good one, mate." George laughed, nudging Fred to join him.
McGonagall sighed, looking over those who were left tiredly. Aside from Harry who was confined to the parameters of the bed, the others were speckled in mud that was beginning to dry and flake off wherever they went. "Those who are more dirt than skin, go clean up. You may all return once you're clean."
Rebecca hesitated at Harry's side, knowing she needed to go but hating the idea of leaving him.
"We'll wait here." Hermione said, managing a little smile for the two of them. "Ron and I can manage to keep an eye on him a little."
"'Keep an eye on'?" Harry scoffed, teasing them. "I'll have you know I am perfectly behaved and require no 'eyeing'."
Rebecca couldn't fall into his banter, not when she remembered how the dementors had blocked him from her view. "I'll be quick." She kissed his forehead again, not able to look back as she took her spot between Fred and George.
"All's well that ends well." Fred said, grabbing her hand as George did her other.
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Rebecca wondered if she hadn't wanted to go to shower not only because it meant leaving Harry, but because it meant she would have to leave the shower. She stood under the hot water and scrubbed the mud and grime off of her, finding the idea of leaving to go back out into the cold castle misery.
Especially after the ice of the dementors.
They had a cold to them that lasted, seemed to imprint on something inside of you that took far too long to warm again.
When she had enough willpower to turn the faucet off, she wasted no time drying off and pulling on the clothes she had worn to the game. Rebecca waited on the benches between the separate rooms, wondering if Fred and George were nearly done of if she should go on.
Just as she decided they'd know she went back to the Hospital Wing, the water shut off.
"That hurt me, George."
"I know."
"I don't ever want to hear anybody scream like that especially..." Fred's voice faded momentarily before returning. "You think she'll be alright?"
"Of course she will be. They both will." George pulled his shirt over his head. "But remember the beginning of the year. It might take a little time."
"Two weeks until holiday." Fred sighed. "Being home will help. Being home always helps." Their voices grew louder and Rebecca jumped, moving to her locker as if she was looking for something in the bottom. "Nice jumper."
Rebecca looked down. It was her Weasley jumper, she wore it near every opportunity. "Thanks, homemade." Rebecca balled her uniform up and tossed it into the basket, bringing about a sigh from Fred.
"Why'd you have to go and do that? Now I have to do it from farther than you did."
George snorted. "Go for it, Fred. But there is a reason we're beaters and not chasers."
"Doubted by my own brother. Just watch." Fred ducked to the ground and made his shot, his clothes landed feet in front of the basket.
"He scores." George said flatly, stepping outside. "Let's get a move on."
Rebecca nodded to Sam, looking back to the locker room and nodding again. She hoped he realised she was saying only Oliver was left.
"I think that one's a spy." George muttered. "Always hanging about."
"Whatever you say, George." Rebecca answered after there was a pause. Fred looked down at her and wondered if she knew, too. He took her hand like he and George had when they walked to the showers.
Neither of them noticed that George never took her other hand.
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Long after they had finished the supper Madam Pomfrey had brought to them, all but Harry were ushered out of the infirmary. Rebecca pleaded desperately to stay in an adjacent bed, but Madam Pomfrey had been told otherwise.
"Dumbledore's orders are for all students except those assigned to the infirmary are to return to their dormitory. I'm sorry."
Rebecca nodded, knowing Madam Pomfrey didn't like the decision based on her tone. She bent down to Harry and hugged him tightly. "I'll bring your books tomorrow so you're not sitting bored."
"Oh brilliant, that's exactly what I want to look forward to." Harry teased, hugging her longer than he normally would have. "Sleep well."
Rebecca joined the others at the door and found herself unable to launch into Hermione and Ginny's conversation with the excitement they needed--Hermione had recently learned something or other and Ginny was demanding to know the Muggle equivalent. George and Ron were at the very front of their group, talking between each other quietly.
Rebecca and Fred ended up near the back, slowly following the voices of their friends. Neville sat on the stairs near Sir Cadogan, the fat lady's replacement portrait. Sir Cadogan had fourteen different passwords, two for each day that were divided between morning and night passwords.
Ron insisted he knew it, beginning to fight with Sir Cadogan so ferociously, Hermione couldn't get a word in edgewise to tell Ron the correct password.
Fred motioned for Rebecca to join him at the window near the middle of the tower, far enough from the bickering to avoid being drawn in. "Beautiful, isn't it?" The moon was in the few days after it had been full, slowly beginning its retreat into slivers. The stars were perfectly clear as the clouds from the afternoon had faded nicely. It was beautiful.
"Yeah, it is." Rebecca looked to the moon and felt compelled to share something. "Did you ever hear the story about how the moon is made out of cheese?"
Fred looked at her strangely. "No. I think I would have remembered that."
"My erm--well, the woman who took me from our house. The muggle. She told me a story about the man on the moon of cheese. I was so worried about him all the way up there, especially since he didn't have a house. I convinced myself the man on the moon was actually a mouse and that he'd eaten himself a little place to live under the surface."
Fred shook his head, chuckling. "You thought something so odd? I have no doubt. You're kind of strange."
Rebecca smiled, looking back to the sky. "'What we call strange is just not understood.' I heard someone say that once."
Fred's mouth spoke without his permission. "I wouldn't mind understanding." His ears turned pink and he stared out at the stars wishing he could be on one of them if only to save himself from the embarrassment of his own thoughts.
Rebecca looked up and behind them as Sir Cadogan relented and gave them entry. "I don't think I would mind that. You understanding, that is." They went their separate ways once inside the common room and Hermione chalked up Rebecca's extra-quietness to the stresses of the day.
George, however, knew better. He'd seen Fred stepping back down the stairs with Rebecca and he couldn't resist a jest before bed. "If you don't find a way to breathe around her, you're going to end up with brain damage."
Fred was instantaneous with his retort, proud of it's perfection. "Then we'd truly be identical, wouldn't we?"
George threw his pillow at him. "Git."
Fred only laughed and threw it back at him.
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