Chapter 6
Boy had visited Madam Pomfrey a few times for his weekly check-ins. It didn’t look good. Sure, she tried to remain positive for him, but he could see through it. She was clearly afraid of telling him that the damage was irreparable.
On a more positive note, she did give him the go-ahead to play quidditch still, so long as he wore a protective brace. It was a strange thing, looking like a very long black sock. When he slid it on for the first time, she had adjusted it a bit here and there, but when it was perfectly aligned, Boy was instructed to keep his leg absolutely still for five seconds. That done, he was amazed to find that it was immobilized as if by a cast. It also had a handful of charms woven into the strange fabric. She informed him that while there was a pain reliever in it, it could not be worn for more than three hours at a time, and only a few times per week. Aside from that, there was a charm that kept it from getting dirty or wet, even from sweat, as well as being able to blend in seamlessly with whatever trousers he was wearing.
He was fascinated by the Chameleon charm on it. Disillusion charms could only be held as long as the caster was focusing on it, whereas the Chameleon charm was imbued into the fabric. It would even mimic his skin tone (and leg hair when it grew) if he wore it with shorts. Because of all the charms, it couldn’t be magicked to grow with him, so he would need to replace it with any growth spurts.
His classes were going very well also. He, Penny, Olive and Amelia were dominating the top six spots in their year. He was first, Penny was third and Olive and Amelia were holding fifth and sixth respectively. Percy Weasley was holding the number two spot, which was driving him spare.
Penny told them both (separately of course) not to worry about it.
Percy was upset at not being number one, while Boy was upset that Percy grew cold toward him over it.
He had asked Penny if he should fail an assignment and let Percy slip into first, but all three of his friends protested that fiercely. He made sure not to bring it up again.
The many times he saw Jamie throughout October, he always seemed to be alone. Because of that, he was brewing burn salves, bruise balms and he had begun keeping essence of dittany on his person at all times.
While not very educated in magic, which Boy could not understand at all, Jamie preferred to use muggle fighting as opposed to jinxes and hexes. That actually pleased Boy, because muggle fighting injuries (his leg excluded) were easier to heal than many magical injuries.
At the next quidditch match, he had taken a bludger to the ribs from one of his own teammates, and was able to get his hands on a couple doses of pain reliever when the matron’s back was turned. He didn’t have access to all of the ingredients for it, so he was taking the potions, which he felt bad about. Besides, even with the little bit of money that he was making doing girls’ hair, all of that money was being added onto his gift certificate and spent on other potions ingredients. The pain relief potion had a few things that weren’t exactly cost effective, and so he was using it all for the cheaper ingredients for the other potions.
Penny had asked him about his spending requests, but didn’t push the subject when he said he just liked brewing.
It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the truth either. Brewing was not necessarily his favorite activity, but he did enjoy being able to fix himself up, which was all that truly mattered.
The only nice thing about having a long lasting injury was that no one was ever surprised when he appeared to be in pain. Most of his professors were pretty understanding, but Professor Snape was irritated by the entire ordeal. That’s not to say that he wasn’t at least partially sympathetic, but he did make it a point to loudly ask other students to get his things from the student cupboard so that he wouldn’t have to struggle through the crowds. The Ravenclaws that he shared the class with hadn’t found it funny, but the Slytherins did.
That wasn’t totally fair. Most of the Slytherins found it amusing, but he’d noticed that one or two, whose names he didn’t know, never laughed. The Ravenclaws weren’t perfect either. He seemed to have made… not friends, but close acquaintances, with the females. The males in that house didn’t laugh, but they didn’t care either.
Despite not making much sense, even to himself, he was okay with having the Slytherins dislike him. He had friends, he had acquaintances, and he had (not enemies, as he was only eleven) but… antagonists. That made more sense than enemies. It didn’t bother him, because from what he understood, that was normal. He liked having something be normal in his life. It was refreshing.
He also continued being dragged to the Ravenclaw table at meals when it was safe to do so, meaning the Headmaster wasn’t attending. Twice more he’d been moved back to his own house table, receiving detention on the last encounter. His ‘detention’ had been the task of writing an essay on the importance of organization. It was three feet long, as instructed, and was handed in to the Headmaster the following morning at breakfast, in full view of everyone. He hadn’t gotten much sleep that night.
Having his friends stick up for him didn’t do any good either, but he hadn’t expected it to. Penny had actually had her prefect duties subtly threatened. The professors weren’t too impressed, but no one said anything about the reprimand.
As Halloween approached, Boy grew irritated. He wasn’t very fond of the holiday that made his family famous. That was the day, exactly ten years prior, that he became the ‘unlovable twin’, the ‘useless twin’.
As Boy grew more despondent, Jamie seemed to get more and more obnoxious. He was constantly lording his so-called superiority over the Slytherins, Boy in particular.
Before, there had been a few attacks per week, but now Jamie was actively seeking him out to start confrontations, which Boy never once responded to, but was punished for regardless. Boy could barely remember the last time he’d gone a full day without being attacked, and Jamie was now learning how to do more than shoot non-harmful sparks out of his wand.
As Boy was leaving breakfast on the Sunday before the dreaded holiday, he was going to the unused classroom to remove his trunk from his pocket and take out anything he might need for the day. Today, all he needed was his sock/brace and a book he’d planned to finish that afternoon. He had just re-shrunk the trunk and stowed it in his pocket when the door slammed open.
“Hey, Freak,” Jamie sneered, having taken to calling him that over the past few weeks.
Boy didn’t say a word.
“Let me ask you something,” he said, unbothered by his twin’s refusal to speak to him. “How is it that my parents got saddled with such a worthless piece of shit like you?”
Boy was quiet and still, as Jamie was blocking the only exit. He leaned a bit on his walking stick, wishing he’d already put the sock/brace on. It had started bothering him more the colder it got. He was not looking forward to winter.
For the next few minutes, Jamie spewed such vitriol that Boy was actually astonished. Where on Earth had he learned such things? And how many of the insults did he understand? Boy didn’t know half of what was being said, but it certainly didn’t sound very good.
Eventually, Jamie seemed to realize that Boy was not going to respond, despite never having done so before, so he resorted to his favorite pastime. Physical muggle violence.
An hour later, Boy was sure that his pre-injured knee was completely useless. Through pained gasps and quiet cries, he healed everything that couldn’t be explained by his ‘tumble down the stairs’. Boot shaped prints on his ribs, finger shaped bruises on his arms, things like that. He left the small cut that split his eyebrow, his broken nose (and resulting black eyes) and a few shapeless bruises from all over his body.
Thanking unknown deities, Boy hovered himself the blessedly short trip to the base of the stairs. He was glad that he hadn’t tried to hover himself all the way to the infirmary because by the time he reached the base of the stairs, he was so lightheaded that his magic faltered and dropped him heavily on the unforgiving flagstones. He didn’t remain conscious for very long after that.
Boy was warm and comfortable. Someone was running their fingers through his hair, and they weren’t pulling. That left out any of the Potters! He didn’t want to open his eyes. Humming in contentment, he turned his head toward the hand. It felt heavenly.
“Just like a sleepy little kitten,” a familiar voice teased quietly.
“I’m surprised he isn’t purring,” another voice said with a stifled giggle.
“‘M not a kit’n,” he mumbled groggily, keeping his eyes shut.
“Nope,” a third voice said. “This time he’s a big grizzly bear.”
“Which start out as cute, fluffy little teddy bears,” the second voice said.
That was Penny, his mind supplied. In the spirit of things, he held up his hand in a mock claw and said “Grrr.”
All three of his friends cracked up at that.
Sighing, he opened his eyes.
Amelia stopped running her fingers through his hair.
He pouted. “Hey, why’d you stop?”
“Because I can’t keep petting you like a little kitten if you’re not one. It isn’t right.” She said in a faux serious tone. “Bears don’t get kitty pats.”
Huffing, he crossed his arms. “Fine, I’m a kitten,” he grumbled, barely audible.
“And such a pretty kitty too!”
“No!” Boy said immediately. “I might be a kitten, but I am drawing the line at pretty kitty.”
The girls exchanged looks as if having a silent conversation.
“Alright, Buh-Harry,” Penny said with a nod. “We’ll respect your right to refuse.”
“That’s all I ask,” he said snootily, his facade slipping when he smiled.
“So,” Olive said, leaning close. “How are you feeling, Kitten?”
He shrugged. “I feel fine. Whatever potions she’s using, Madam Pomfrey knows her stuff. My leg doesn’t even hurt right now. It’s nice.”
“Excellent!” Madam Pomfrey said happily, coming toward them. “Now, since we’ve already gone over this, I trust I don’t need to remind you about the damage that too much of those pain po-”
“I know, Madam Pomfrey.” Boy replied dutifully. “While non-addictive, pain potions are harmful to multiple organs, though none more so than the liver and stomach.”
The medi-witch harrumphed and left them alone, letting him know that she was going to talk to him later.
“Your luck really is awful.” Olive snorted. “Falling down a flight of stairs, Kitten? Really?”
He shrugged, not liking having to lie to his friends. “I think my leg buckled.”
After a while, Boy couldn't be sure how long, his friends had to go back to Ravenclaw tower.
It was at that time that Madam Pomfrey decided to break the news. "I want you to know, Mr. Potter, that I will continue my correspondence with the Healers at St Mungo's to assist you." She paused to sigh. "At this point, however, I have to fulfill my duty to you, as a student in my care. I've already owled your parents, and your mother is set to be here shortly."
"You're too nice to tell me outright, aren't you?" Boy asked, giving a weak smile, desperately trying to keep his face from betraying his upset at the mention of Ma’am. "You weren't sure before, but now you are. My leg can't ever be fixed, can it? That's what you want to say, isn't it? I'm stuck like this."
Her eyes closed. "I am sorry, Harry."
"It's alright, Madam Pomfrey," he said dejectedly. "I figured it would be, even though you tried to make me believe that I-it could be fixed. I've been coming to terms with this for a few weeks now."
Looking heartbroken, she cupped his cheek. "Listen to me, Harry. I'm not giving up just yet. Just because it looks bleak now, that doesn't mean it always will be. Medicine is constantly changing, so keep that chin up. Okay?"
He nodded. "I will."
"Good boy," she said kindly, patting his hand.
Just then, the doors opened to reveal a disgruntled Ma'am.
"Poppy!" Ma'am greeted warmly. "How are you?"
Madam Pomfrey was startled by the redhead's actions. She held Boy's hand comfortingly. She watched with confusion as Lady Potter approached, never sparing so much as a glance in her son's direction.
"Harry and I have been chatting about his injury. He's quite a mature young man, your boy.”
The smile on Lady Potter's face never reached her eyes. "So, what's going on, Poppy?"
"As I've just told Harry, I have been in contact with several Healers. They have all come to the same conclusion. While he will retain the ability to walk, he will always have a limp and need a cane for the rest of his life."
She cleared her throat. "Do you need me to take him home? I'm sure James and I could find suitable tutors to k-"
"Slow down, Lily!" Madam Pomfrey interrupted with wide eyes. "I didn't ask you here to take him out of school! He is more than capable of continuing his education. I thought that, given the circumstances, you would like to see your son."
Ma'am breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad he'll be able to stay."
"I also wanted to discuss something that I believe will be beneficial to your son's safety." She said, eyeing the redhead. "It would benefit Harry to have a support animal, preferably something on the larger side, so that should he need the assistance, he could lean on it until he is able to rest."
Brows raised, Ma'am gaped. "Surely such an animal would be against the rules, wouldn't it?"
"Don't be silly! I would never have suggested that would get him into trouble." What in Merlin's name was wrong with that woman? "Now, Harry, whatever animal you choose, you'll have to make sure it can support your weight. You bring it to me, and I'll help you train it up. Alright?"
Boy nodded excitedly, not daring to speak in front of Ma'am.
"I've already spoken to the Headmaster, so you'll be able to go with your mum tomorrow after breakfast if you're up to it." She gave his hand a brief squeeze.
"If he can't go until tomorrow, then why was I asked to be here today?"
Madam Pomfrey was aghast. That woman’s child was seriously injured for the second time, and she didn’t seem to care one whit! They hadn’t even visited when poor Harry was attacked, but they had both shown up when Jamie sprained his wrist somehow last week. What was the matter with them? “Because your son was hurt?” She hadn’t meant for it to sound like a question, but who could blame her?
“Yes, of course,” the woman shook her head and smiled. “I apologize, Poppy. I’ve been feeling a bit off for the past few days.”
That made sense. Lady Potter was doting on Jamie last week. If she was unwell, it could explain things.
“Would you like me to run a scan?” Madam Pomfrey asked, gaze softening.
“I suppose so,” she said. “Since I’m already here.”
“Very well. Have a lie down and we’ll see what’s bothering you.”
A few minutes later, the matron gasped. “Well, that certainly explains things!”
“What is it?” Came the panicked question.
“You’re approximately nine weeks pregnant.”
Boy’s jaw dropped. He was going to be a big brother! Smiling broadly, he decided that he would be the best big brother ever!
“That’s wonderful!” Ma’am cried, placing both hands on her flat stomach. “I have to go tell James! He’ll be so thrilled!”
“Congratulations, Lily,” Madam Pomfrey said, happy for the family.
Ma’am stood and hugged the matron before practically flying out of the room.
The next morning, Madam Pomfrey let Boy’s friends escort him down to the entrance Hall to wait for Ma’am.
Again, he was picked up and put on Olive’s back.
“After today this won’t be necessary,” he told her with a smirk.
“Don’t worry,” she said teasingly. “I’ll still want to carry you around like a little kitten.”
He snorted at that. “You must be covered in claw marks if you carry kittens like this.” He was happy that he was allowed to wear his sock/brace to go out.
Despite him telling them about the pain blockers in the fabric, they insisted that he sit until he was picked up.
Penny wanted to transfigure him a seat, but there was nothing around.
Boy rolled his eyes and sat on the steps.
They sat with him until they had to get to class.
Nine twenty-four. Boy got up to walk around the Hall.
Ten thirty-eight. It was getting a bit late.
Twelve seventeen. Madam Pomfrey had told him that he was expected to be back by lunch, which was in forty-three minutes.
A few minutes before the students were set to swarm the corridors once more, Boy was forcing back tears. He should have expected it, really.
They were the same people who sent him to a wizarding school without a wand. They obviously didn’t care that the animal he picked was supposed to be for his safety.
He had been scratching his arms for a while before he’d realized it and snapped his arms down, gripping his walking stick too tightly. Squeezing his eyes shut to stave off the tears attempting to escape, he forced himself to breathe slowly.
Standing, he took one last calming breath and headed down to the dungeons. He ignored Lathassa and Ashthessa’s calls, suddenly desperate for his broom cupboard.
When he was seated, he flipped the top hem of the sock/brace to deactivate it and tugged it off. Wrapping his arms tightly around his middle, he finally let out his tears.
Gathering his wits, Boy extracted himself from his cupboard. He had classes to get to.
He made it to the first floor just as the students began flooding out of the Great hall. Off to charms then.
Professor was actually surprised when he walked into the room.
When the class began working on the whistling charm independently, the professor approached Boy.
“Mr. Potter,” he said quietly. “I was under the impression that you would not be attending classes on your own any longer. Madam Pomfrey told your professors you were going to be getting a support animal to assist you.”
Boy forced himself not to scratch his arms. “Yes, sir. Ma’a-Mother couldn’t make it.”
The professor eyed him for a moment before nodding. “Keep close to your friends until one of your parents can get here, alright? I quite like having you in my classes better than in the infirmary.”
“Yes, sir,” he mumbled, keeping his gaze locked on the table.
Raising his voice, Professor Flitwick began instructing the class once more.
After Charms, Penny and Olive walked him to Arithmancy without Amelia, since she wasn’t taking the class. Well, Olive carried him. Boy didn’t even put up a fight anymore. There was no point. They worried for him, and he appreciated that more than words could express.
He tightened his hold in an awkward brief hug just outside the classroom door.
She let him down and kissed the top of his head. “Love you too, Kitten.”
Penny took his arm as he went down the levels that the tables were arranged on. They always sat up front and his leg wouldn’t change that.
As usual, he and Penny raced through the equations to see who could finish first, but they never kept track. Today, Penny won, but only by a minute or so. Boy didn’t mind. It was usually pretty close. What did confuse him, however, was that their answers were nowhere near similar.
He scanned through his work twice, but nothing was wrong, so he looked at her parchment. The work was right, but they had different- He groaned. “We’re both right, but I copied it wrong.”
Professor Vector smirked at them from her desk. “Done already?”
Penny handed over her work, but Boy didn’t.
“Professor, I messed it up.” He admitted, flushing red.
The entire class went silent. Quills stopped scratching, parchment stopped shifting and Olive stopped tapping her foot off the leg of her chair.
“Are you well, Mr. Potter?” Professor Vector asked, her face filled with concern. She was usually just as ill tempered as Professor Snape, but her veneer cracked on occasion while his never did.
“Yes, professor,” he said, his flush deepening. “I copied it down wrong, but what I have done should still be right. Can I redo it?”
“Of course,” she said. “We all make mistakes from time to time. May I have your parchment?”
He was tempted to ask why, but refrained, handing over his work.
“The show is over,” she said loudly. “Back to your tasks.”
Boy rewrote the problem, triple checking it this time, and got to it. He was still finished before a majority of the class.
When the low chime signalling the end of class sounded, the professor held him back.
“How were you able to make this conversion?” She asked.
Going through his process, Boy had to stop to explain two separate points that she didn’t understand.
When all was said and done, she leaned back in her chair. “This is remarkable. You may have just done the impossible, Mr. Potter.”
Boy blinked. “It wasn’t that difficult, professor, I just-”
“The fact that you were able to not only correct your initial mistake, but solve it as well...“ She paused, wearing a curious expression. “Well, now I know why Miss Clearwater was able to win your race today.”
“You noticed that?” Boy asked sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”
“Of course I noticed,” she said flippantly. “Though I am cursing the school board for it’s ridiculous rules.”
“Professor?”
She sighed. “Mr. Potter, are you learning anything new? In any of your classes, not just this one.”
His heart dropped. She thought he was unteachable. “Professor, I really didn’t mean to mess up! It won’t happen again, just please don’t make me leave your class. I’m so sorry! I’ll work harder, I promise!”
Utterly bewildered, she covered his mouth. “I am not kicking you out of my class, Mr. Potter.” Conjuring a handkerchief, she dabbed his damp cheeks. “Take a second to calm down, then tell me if you’re learning anything new in any of your classes.”
Boy was humiliated over crying in front of his professor, but calmed eventually. “Well, I suppose I am. I’ve only ever read the theory on my classwork. Before coming here, I hadn’t been able to put any of it into practice. So, yes, I am learning.”
Nodding, she vanished the handkerchief. “There is a staff meeting on the first of every month, which falls on Friday. You and I will have our own meeting on Saturday. Meet me here at two.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, relieved he wasn’t being kicked out.
Friday morning, Halloween dawned raining and cold. Boy thought it was appropriate as he trudged up the stairs to get to the Great Hall.
As usual, he was the first of the Slytherins to arrive. He ignored all of the (excessively gaudy) decorations and ate his porridge quietly, taking out a book to occupy himself. It was a lot easier to read a book than to sit awkwardly around people who went out of their way to try to upset him.
By the time the first of his housemates showed up, Boy was finished. He went back down to the dungeons and sat in an alcove that was hidden by a tapestry, to wait for potions class to begin. It was a double period today, and they were working on the Draught of Living Death, which was supposed to be incredibly difficult to make. He was excited to see what he could do, even if Professor Snape would never cheer him on for doing well.
In class, Boy was confused. The sopophorous bean he was dealing with was not putting out even half of the juice it contained. Shouldn’t cutting it open work?
He went to the student stores and looked over the little drawer containing the beans. Picking up the oldest looking ones, he went back to his seat.
With the first one, he rolled it across the table, applying gentle pressure to coax out more of the juices. A little more came out of that one, but it still wasn’t enough for the potion. For the second, he nicked one end and put it into his mortar and slowly crushed it with the pestle. With a delighted smile, he tossed the bean aside and poured the shocking amount of liquid into his cauldron.
His potion was a different shade than the rest. It was much lighter than the dozen clear phials that were uniform in color. He didn’t pay attention to the ones that were either tar-like sludge or strange colors. The book had said his potion was the right color, but why were his (capable) classmates’ potions all the same?
There was no time to try again, so he bit the inside of his cheek and handed his over with trembling hands.
For a split second, Professor Snape’s face morphed into some vague semblance of a smile, but was gone even faster. It turned to a sneer when he looked at Boy’s worried figure. “Pass. Now go.”
“I don’t think I want to go to the feast tonight,” Boy said as he and his friends left transfiguration. “I’d rather just go to the library.”
“What’s wrong, Kitten?” Amelia asked, feeling his forehead. “You don’t have a fever.”
“I’m not sick, ‘Melia. I just don’t want to go. Besides, all of those decorations are ridiculous. What does all that nonsense have to do with Samhain?” He knew perfectly well that it was for Halloween and not Samhain, but that wasn’t the point.
Rather than question it, Olive and Amelia followed him to the library. Penny was going to the feast to see Percy, who had finally gathered the courage to ask her on a date for tomorrow.
They settled at a table near the doors, knowing that everyone was at the feast. Boy barely spared a glance for Professor Quirrel who passed the doors, muttering to himself as usual. As soon as the man was gone, the ache in his head dissipated. He refocused on the copy of ‘The Basics of Animagery’, fascinated. He knew that his- that Jamie’s godfather was a dog animagus called Padfoot and Sir was a stag called Prongs. If he could become an animagus, then they might finally have something in common! Getting the leaf wouldn’t be a problem. He could get that from one of the greenhouses. Maybe he could use a sticking charm to keep it from falling out of his mouth when he slept or ate.
For a while, he read, imagining what kind of animal he could become. He would love to become some type of bird. Flying was so exhilarating, and to be able to do it under his own power would be incredible. No broom, no pads, no pressure of victory or defeat. Just him, soaring through the air. It would be perfect.
His friends decided to sneak up to their common room to set up a silly prank for Penny. He didn’t mind, as he was too wrapped up in his book. Shortly after they left, he could hear the rumbling of the students’ mass exit from the Great Hall and he went to his usual seat in the back of the library for quiet.
Eventually, he would have to go back to his common room, but he at least wanted to finish the chapter he was on. There were only two pages left.
When he reshelved the book, he noted that the corridors were completely silent.
Well, at least there was no one (Jamie) around to attack him. He had only gotten as far as the top of the stairs to the dungeons when the smell hit him.
Boy covered his nose and did his best not to gag. Merlin! It was worse than anything he'd ever smelled.
Guts churning, he hesitated going down the stairs. It was likely worse down there. Debating on whether or not to go back to the library, he held his breath.
Back to the library it is, he decided.
He made it about fifteen feet when the source of the offensive smell stepped in his path.
Boy frozen on the spot.
The troll swung its massive club, narrowly missing Boy's torso.
Landing heavily on his bum, Boy held up his hand and cried out, "Catenas ligant!"
Chains as thick as his wrist burst out from nowhere, wrapping the troll at least a dozen times. From the chest down, it was completely bound.
He summoned the club, just to be safe… and cast the binding spell again.
Staring stupidly at the enormous chain wrapped troll, Boy didn't move a muscle.
"...Look at me, you insolent brat!"
Boy snapped out of his stupor and looked up into the onyx eyes of his potions professor.
"Severus," came the chiding voice of the Headmaster. "There is no need for that."
The dour man scoffed. "Up, Potter."
Up? Up where? Oh. He was still sitting on the floor.
With one hand on his walking stick and the other braced on the wall, he pushed himself upright, his gaze going back to the troll.
It was struggling against the chains, but couldn't move more than an inch or so.
"Why weren't you in your common room?" The professor demanded furiously.
Boy dragged his eyes from the beast. "I-it's not curfew yet, is it sir?"
"Are you so desperately in need of attention that you went out of your way to be the hero?" The man sneered. "Beginning tomorrow, you have a month of detention!"
Boy wanted to ask why, but he just nodded in defeated acceptance.
"Mr. Potter," Professor Flitwick called. "You weren't at the feast, were you?"
"No, sir. I was in the library."
"Festivities not up to your standards, Potter?" Professor Snape snapped.
"That's enough, Severus." The charms professor said, the warning in his tone clear.
"Is anyone able to confirm your alibi?" The Headmaster asked.
"Alibi?" Boy repeated. "Madam Pince and my friends were in the library with me. Why would I need an alibi?"
"The names of the students who saw you in the library, if you please."
"Amelia Odoa and Olive Elison," he replied immediately. "They went back up to the tower a little while ago."
"That's convenient." Professor Snape said venomously. "And why did they leave just before the announcement?"
"To put red and gold glitter in Penny's shampoo, sir." Boy answered honestly, still unable to look away from the troll. "They like teasing, sir, and Penny has a date with a Gryffindor. I charmed the glitter to fall off when her hair dries."
Professor Flitwick seemed impressed. "Alright, Harry, I think it's about time to get back to your common room."
"Yes, sir," Boy said, shifting his walking stick to the other hand. "Goodnight."
A million questions were running through his mind, but he knew better than to ask them.
Around noon, Boy went with his friends near the Entrance Hall. He had made Penny up for her date and she was a bit nervous. He didn’t say a word about the troll.
"Don't bite your lip," he said with a smile. "According to 'Melia, lipstick gets ruined at the end of the date, not before."
"That's right, Kitten." Amelia snorted, carding her fingers through his hair. "You tell her!"
Boy made kissy lips and dissolved into giggles with Amelia and Olive.
"Percy's too straight laced to make a move on the first date." Olive pointed out.
“You never know,” he said with a shrug and saw Percy approaching. “Have fun, Penny. We’ve got homework to finish.”
“So, Kitten,” Amelia began, not even pretending to read her book. “Did either of your parents say when they would come pick you up?”
Closing his eyes for a minute, he marked his page and set the book down. “Not yet, no. They’re probably still adjusting to the news.”
“How long could it possibly take to adjust to the fact that your child will never walk properly again?” Olive snapped.
“What?” Boy asked. “No, not that. Mother wasn’t feeling well when she came to visit, so Madam Pomfrey scanned her and they found out that she’s going to have a baby. I’m sure they’re just a bit scatterbrained right now.” The urge to scratch his arms open was strong. He choked it back. It wasn’t the baby’s fault, and he would never blame a baby for his problems. It was just another reason to ignore him.
“You’re going to be a big brother!” Olive squealed. “That’s so exciting!”
Boy smiled.
“Okay,” Amelia said, unimpressed. “But what about your support animal? If they just found out about the baby, they have months before it pops the chute. How is that keeping them from taking a few hours to help you?”
“Don’t be like that, Amelia.” Olive sighed. “They’re probably still adjusting.”
Ameila rolled her eyes. “Whatever you say. We should still write them.”
“No!” Boy said, a bit too loudly. “I’ll take care of it.”
Startled by his outburst, they both looked at him in surprise.
Boy was worried now. If he were to write a letter to them, how much trouble would he be in? When his friends had done it, well… that hadn’t gone well. Now that Jamie knew how Sir treated him, it was basically an open invitation to see how much damage he could inflict on Boy. He didn’t want to write the letter. But if he didn’t show up with some kind of support animal soon, his friends wouldn’t hesitate to write to Sir again. He’d rather find a wild boar to keep him company.
Wait. Wild. Why did he have to go to a pet shop? Madam Pomfrey already said she would help him train the animal he chose, so why not something from on the grounds? He’d often seen the large man in the little hut with all kinds of creatures. Maybe he could still get what he needed without getting his parents in trouble. Or himself for that matter.
“Do either of you know the man in the hut?” Boy asked.
“The wha- Oh! You mean Hagrid!” Olive shook off her confusion. “Percy’s older brother used to hang out with him a lot because of their mutual love of dangerous creatures.” She had a dopey look on her face. “Charlie.”
“Now, that was a man,” Amelia said with a smirk.
“Okay, no.” Olive groaned. “You’re supposed to be a lesbian.”
“So?” Amelia prompted. “Just because I don’t want his tongue down my throat doesn’t mean that I can’t appreciate a man’s look. Gingers might not do it for me, but he was attractive.”
Olive muffled her giggle explosion in her sleeve.
Boy excused himself as they rated the cuteness of the guys in their year. He didn’t want any part in that. Yack.
Knocking on the wooden door, Boy wrapped his cloak around himself a bit more tightly.
“‘Ello!” Came the cheerful boom of the man’s voice.
Boy gasped, never having been so close to the man before. He was so much taller than Boy had originally thought. “Hi,” he squeaked.
“Wha’ can I do fer yeh?” Hagrid asked kindly.
“Well,” Boy started, gaining confidence. “I was hoping we could talk for a bit. About animals.”
Hagrid’s face lit up. “O’course! Come on in! I was jus’ about ter make some tea.”
Boy smiled, feeling immediately at ease. “Thank you.”
When Hagrid set down two huge wooden tankards and filled one with tea, Boy stopped him.
“Would it be terribly rude of me to shrink this a bit?” He asked, hoping he didn’t offend the man.
“Yeh learn’d shrinkin’ charms already?”
“Yes, sir,” Boy replied. “I’ll put it to rights before I leave.”
“Alrigh’,” Hagrid nodded. “But none o’ that ‘sir’ stuff. Yeh can call me Hagrid.”
Taking out his ‘wand’, he shrunk the mug. It had gone from the size of a small bucket to a standard teacup. He left the original look, so it was still wood with two loops of iron to hold it together. “Thank you, Hagrid.”
Beaming, he poured Boy’s tea. “So, wha’ kind o’ animals do yeh want ter talk abou’?”
“Well,” Boy scratched his head. “I’m not entirely sure. You see, Madam Pomfrey has suggested that I get some kind of support animal because of my leg. I recently took a tumble down the stairs and I was by myself. She suggested that I choose something a bit on the larger side so that I can lean on it if need be. It also needs to be able to be trained to fetch someone if I’m in need of assistance.”
“Like takin’ another tumble?”
Boy crinkled his nose at that, but nodded.
He hummed, stroking his massive scraggly beard. “A dog’d prob’ly be yer bes’ bet. Bigger, like Fang.” He hitched his chin toward the bed where a large, dopey boarhound lifted one ear at the mention of his name.
Boy smiled at the dog. “Si- er, Hagrid, do you know if there are any on the grounds? I would prefer not to miss any more classes, being my OWL year and all.”
“Tiny fella like you takin’ yer OWL’s? Must be smart.”
Flushing at the praise, Boy shrugged.
“Righ’,” Hagrid hummed again. “Well, there’s a couple o’ stray dogs runnin’ about. Yeh’ll be need’n summat with a bit o’ smarts, and strong to boot. There’s on’y one I can think o’ that could work. Yeh migh’ not wan’ ‘im. He’s a good ‘un, but he looks like a Black Shuck.”
“Ah.” Boy said, nodding in understanding. “Is he, though? I can’t imagine a Grim, well, a Black Shuck, traipsing around a school. In theory, a real Shuck wouldn’t be able to get past the wards.”
“Bear ain’t no real Shuck, he jus’ looks like one.” Hagrid explained. “I reckon it puts folks off, but Bear’s nice enough. Strong too, tha’ one. I’d be willin’ ter wager a mite like you’d be able ter ride him like a pony.”
“His name is Bear?” Boy asked, confused.
“Sometimes,” Hagrid replied. “Bu’ sometimes he answers to Cuddles. ‘M not sure if he thinks it’s his name or if he jus’ wants to be cuddled. Either way, it ge’s his ‘ttention jus’ fine. Wouldja like ter meet him?”
“That would be brilliant!” Boy said eagerly.
“Us’lly, he’s ‘round the treeline at the back o’ the lake this time o’ day. Le’s see if we can call him.”
Excited now, Boy picked up his walking stick and headed for the door. He stopped, pointing his ‘wand’ at the mug. A second later, it became a huge tankard again. He didn’t want to forget, especially since Hagrid was being so nice.
He was glad he came down, even if Bear didn’t work out.