A/N: Thanks for the gorgeous reviews of the last chapter! Much appreciated! And matildabear, yes, Will's mother is someone I invented but she's only been mentioned by name once in the whole fic, and not in a way that anyone would make an immediate connection. So don't worry about not recalling her; it's intentional on my part :) As for your other questions, I can't answer any of them yet except for the Dumbledore one, which is: yes, he died in the 2nd war.
Enormous thanks to Liss for the beta.
Chapter Eighteen - Losing Yourself (Day One)
"Okay, here you go. One for Budget, one for Vina," Harry Potter said, as he handed each of his two youngest
children a chocolate chip cookie. "Go on, then. And remember what I said about eating on the carpet."
His children nodded happily before pivoting around and racing for the family room, where glasses of cold milk were already awaiting them. Harry smiled to himself and headed back into the kitchen, with the intention of starting dinner.
He had taken the day off from work to stay home with the kids, since Hermione had had to go to St. Mungo's early that morning for some kind of all-day seminar. He'd taken the boys to school, before returning home to devote his undivided attention to a delighted Davina, which resulted in him drinking countless gallons of imaginary tea from tiny flower-patterned teacups.
Then he'd had to pick up Budget from school and after lunch, the youngsters had taken a nap. Harry had used the downtime to obsess over the notes that he and Hermione had compiled about Emerson's recent behavior, from what little they'd been able to gleam. But it had been a lesson in futility and frustration, and to unwind, he'd mixed up a huge batch of chocolate chip cookies. His children would surely put a good-sized dent in the goodies, but there would still be enough to take to the Burrow, most likely.
Deciding that perhaps a nice roast would be good for their evening meal, Harry headed for the enormous, brushed steel refrigerator, intending to check their supplies. Just as he reached it, however, a loud wail drifted in from the room where his children had trotted off to.
Frowning, Harry spun around and hurried in the direction of the sound. Upon reaching the family room, he paused in the doorway and took in the scene before him. He only needed a few seconds' observation to deduce exactly what had happened.
Davina was sitting on the floor, wailing, and Luke was beside her, patting her back. There was something incredibly guilty about his stance and Harry sighed as he walked over.
The small girl looked up, her little face awash with tears, and scrambled immediately into her father's arms. Cradling her, Harry lowered himself to the floor beside Luke, who hadn't moved.
"Do you know what's wrong with your sister, Luke?" Harry asked gently, smoothing Davina's wild russet-tinged ringlets.
Luke nodded slowly without raising his head.
"What's wrong with her?"
The little boy mumbled something and Harry leaned forward. "I'm sorry, I didn't understand you."
"She wants her cookie, but it's in my throat," Budget replied mournfully, finally looking up, his green eyes wide and miserable.
Harry seriously had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from bursting out laughing at his son's phrasing. That would never do, and after a few seconds of struggle, he managed somehow to force a sigh. "How did Vina's cookie get into your throat, Budget?"
"I put it there," Luke lamented woefully. "I ate my cookie too fast, Daddy, and my mouth wanted more. So I took Vina's."
Harry dropped a kiss on his daughter's head, looking grave. "Was that the right thing to do?"
His son shook his head morosely.
"So what do you need to do now?"
Without a second's hesitation, Luke sprang up and threw his arms around his little sister. "I'm really sorry that I took your cookie, Vina. It didn't taste very good, anyway, cause it was wrong that I took it so it got 'ffected. I'll give you my dessert at dinner tonight, okay?"
Davina touched her brother's face with one little hand, silently letting him know that she forgave him, and Luke beamed. Feeling suddenly conflicted with the urge to both laugh and cry, Harry gathered Luke onto his lap too, his heart swelling with love as he held them. He knew he probably should get up and give Vina another cookie; he had made a huge batch after all. But the little boy and girl snuggled against him and he wouldn't have dislodged them for all the gold in Gringotts.
Merlin, they were growing up so fast! Too fast, to be completely honest. Who would think that with all the unconventional things that had happened in his life - including, but not limited to, surviving Voldemort as an infant, saving the Sorcerer's Stone, the Chamber of Secrets, the final defeat of Voldemort, owning a progressively successful Quidditch franchise - that Harry Potter would consider his children to be his greatest achievement? All those things, all the accomplishments of his life and career paled in comparison to these wonderful beings that he and Hermione had created.
And he loved them more than life. There was nothing he wouldn't do for them, to keep them safe and happy.
Harry could feel himself beginning to choke up as he realized that at least one of his children was not very happy at all, despite all his efforts, despite all the heart-aching love he had for her. Why? What had happened, what was happening to his daughter? Oh God, why hadn't he learned Leglimency in addition to Occulumency? The irony galled him, that he could be the Harry Potter, with all that that represented and its accompanying hyperbole, and yet be so fucking helpless with his own child.
"Come, Vina! Let's go draw some pictures," Luke said suddenly, wiggling out of his father's embrace and grabbing his sister's hand.
Davina giggled and scrambled up, toddling away behind her brother without a backward glance. Harry watched them go with a smile and suddenly the laughter he'd been holding in burst forth. He laughed until tears ran down his cheeks, but a part of him knew that some of his tears weren't from laughter.
He laughed from joy, amusement and pride. And he cried. From fear, from confusion, worry and frustration. He cried, for what, he didn't know.
********
With the coming of morning, Emerson was no closer to a solution than the night before. Why had she asked for two days, of all amounts? Did she possibly believe that she could, in two days, do what she hadn't been able to do in months?
The one solution that her best friend had been woodpecking her with from the very beginning was now starting to hammer out its own cadence inside her head. But could she do it? Could she tell her parents about this? What about Smiley's threats? What about Smiley knowing Luke's nickname? "Budget" is very cute, isn't he? She couldn't stand it, she couldn't bear it if anything happened to any of them because of her.
Feeling tears prickling at her eyelids, as usual, Emerson took a deep breath and laid her head on her desk. She was in Potions class, and could vaguely recall Professor Snape saying something about Swelling Solutions. But her mind was occupied with other things, and she was so tired. She hadn't been able to sleep very much at all last night.
Professor Snape had gone into his office for something, which was why Em could chance ignoring her potion for a few minutes. Unfortunately, that meant others could also do the same.
"Look at her," sneered a familiar voice behind her. "You'd think it would be obvious that nighttime is for sleeping, daytime is bustling about, hello? But she's trying to sleep now. What a weirdo."
Emerson rolled her eyes but didn't raise her head. "Yeah, yeah. I'm a freak. I actually wipe my own arse, imagine that." She gave a great gasp. "I put milk in before the cereal!"
The rest of the class snorted but before Jerrianne could think up some inane comeback, the Potions Master ambled back into the room and the class settled down again. For which, Em was grateful; as far as she was concerned, the less thought spent on Jerrianne Youngleer and her sheep, the better. She didn't have time for such triviality anymore.
Determined to at least try to make her potion, she began chopping ingredients, casting Lyna a weak smile, who had been eyeing her worriedly. Her friend smiled back just as weakly, and for the next few minutes, they concentrated on their Swelling Solutions. Which meant that neither of them noticed that Jerrianne and the Fakers were whispering together and casting them noxious glances.
Em thought her potion was rather runny, but at least she'd tried to do it. Which was more effort than she'd put forward in any one subject lately. She honestly kept expecting to be called to the Heamistress's office to answer for the dramatic drop in the quality of her schoolwork, but so far, that hadn't happened.
'Yet,' she thought sardonically, as she carried her cauldron and other instruments into the storage cupboard.
Other students were milling around, putting their stuff away, and just as Em reached her assigned shelf, she was suddenly jostled hard on both sides. She tried, but her hands couldn't maintain their grip on her cauldron, and the heavy container fell to the stone floor with a loud crash. The implements inside were flung out and the cauldron rolled and settled in such a way that she knew there was now a large dent in it.
Merlin's bloody teeth! Irritated, she looked around to see who had bumped her and her ire surged when she saw Janie and Maria smirking at her.
"Oops," said Maria, lightly slapping her forehead and Janie giggled.
Em glared at them. "You did it on purpose."
"No, it was an accident, fool," retorted Janie as she and Maria flounced back into the classroom.
An accident, my foot. Knowing that she couldn't prove that it wasn't, Emerson seethed as she started to pick up her instruments. Just as she reached her battered cauldron, she happened to glance into the classroom, just in time to see Jerrianne give Janie and Maria what was an unmistakable "two thumbs up".
And the tenuous hold she'd had on her temper snapped.
Before she'd even thought about it, she had drawn her wand and stalked into the classroom, her ears ringing with fury. It was exactly this kind of passive-aggressiveness they'd used against her and Lyna last year, and she'd more or less let it go. Well, things were different now. Her life was already going to hell but if they thought she would just sit back and let them hasten her arrival there, they were sorely mistaken.
The Fakers had turned to grin at each other, no doubt with pride at their mistress's non-verbal praise, when Em raised her wand.
"Miss Potter, what do you-" began Professor Snape but Em had already shouted the first incantation that came to her mind.
"Confligere Petulcum!"
The two girls' heads instantly jerked back then crashed together, as if each had suddenly decided to head-butt the other. Every single person, with the exception of Emerson, winced at the impact, as Janie and Maria cried out in unison, clutching their foreheads.
"Hopefully that will have knocked some self-respect into you. Though I highly doubt it!" Em snapped, aware of the whole class gaping at her open-mouthed. Strangely, this only served to piss her off even more.
"Emerson Potter, into my office, right now!"
Em turned and marched to Snape's office without another word. Flinging herself into the chair across from his desk, she fumed, the blood pounding in her ears, her hands shaking.
Those bitches! Those bitches. She could hear Snape instructing Jerrianne to herd her sheep to the hospital wing, though of course the Professor didn't phrase it like that. From the sound of it, Maria had gotten a nosebleed, which served her damn right, as far as Em was concerned.
"Did I say you could sit, Miss Potter?"
Emerson's head whipped around at the cold hiss that came from the doorway. As she began to jump up, the Potions Professor contradictorily barked, "Sit!" and she slumped back down. She watched him storm behind his desk and take a seat, and suddenly saw how the stories her Uncle Ron told her about Snape might've been true. She had known Snape her entire life, and he had always treated her, if not affectionately, then fairly. She'd never been on the receiving end of such a look from him as the one he was leveling at her now.
"Explain to me exactly what kind of behavior that was," the Professor said tightly, his black eyes boring into hers in a way that made Em uncomfortable.
She dropped her eyes. "I was getting back at them, Sir."
"Getting back at them? For what?"
And with that, she suddenly remembered what the Fakers had done. The fury that had been knocked aside by shock swiftly reclaimed its rightful spot and she looked up, glaring right back at her teacher. "They busted my cauldron, and probably a few of my other instruments too."
Snape frowned. "When? And why didn't you come to me?"
"I didn't think it would've done any good," Em snapped. Then aware that she was coming across ruder than was necessary, quickly added, "Sir."
Her teacher was quiet for a minute, still staring at her. "That was unacceptable, Emerson. Fifty points from Gryffindor. You could have seriously injured those girls. So you will either apologize to Miss Ingalls and Miss Crestmore or serve detention."
"I'll take the detention, thank you," Em answered without hesitation.
"Are you sure?" Snape blurted, looking alarmed. Clearly, that wasn't the response he'd been expecting. "Wouldn't you rather apologize?"
She shook her head stubbornly. "No, Sir. Because, with all due respect, Professor Snape, it'll be a cold day in he- the underworld when I apologize to those girls. Besides, I'd be lying if I did. They deserved what they got and I'm not at all sorry about what happened."
Snape stared at her for a long moment, looking puzzled and dismayed. When at last he spoke, his voice was sad. "What has happened to you?"
And Emerson found that she couldn't meet his eyes, so afraid was she that, somehow, he would know exactly what had happened to her.
That she was losing herself.
********
Later that same night, having returned from her detention (scrubbing the bedpans in the Hospital Wing, without magic), Emerson was tired and upset. She was trying to do homework, but she couldn't keep her mind on her task. She couldn't stop thinking about the fact that she'd lost one day and was no closer to any sort of favorable resolution.
One day left, and she would have to tell an adult, and thus deliver her innocent brothers and sister to a madman. One more day and she would have something else to feel guilty about.
Trying to distract herself, she focused again on her notes, trying to ignore the fact that she couldn't even remember what subject she was working on. The common room was noisy and warm, not exactly the best place to be attempting to study, but Em found it oddly comforting. She didn't want to go upstairs because then, not even homework would be able to keep her mind off her misery. Not in the stillness. The craziness of the common room was being both a hindrance and a help, but it was better than the alternative.
She sighed and put down her quill, squeezing her eyes shut. She was so tired. After a minute, upon opening her eyes, she decided to swallow the measly clumps of her remaining pride and ask Lyna for help with this unnamed homework. She could tell that her friend was trying not to seem too upbeat, out of sensitivity for Em's bad circumstances. But Lyna hadn't been able to hide the light in her eyes as she'd told Em about how Davis Chapman and herself had had a long, engaging chat while Em was in detention. Something else for Emerson to feel bad about, that her best friend felt the need to tone down her own happiness in deference to Em's tripe.
Just as she opened her mouth to call to Lyna, though, someone plopped down right beside her. Em sighed again when she saw who it was. This was exactly what she needed right now.
"Emerson! You're looking as lovely as ever," Brandon murmured in what he seemed to think was an alluring voice.
As usual, he was just yammering on about nonsense and Em rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Brandon."
He grinned and scooted even closer. "What're you working on?"
"What does it look like?"
"Why so glum, darling? Surely, my presence would have cheered you up by now?"
Emerson shot him an exasperated look. "Listen, Brandon, I really don't have time for this."
"How can that possibly be?" he asked, looking convincingly affronted. "One can always find time for love." And he actually threw an arm over her shoulder, while glancing over at where a gaggle of his Quidditch teammates were sitting.
That was the thing about Brandon - he never knew when to stop. Emerson felt a surge of irritation and shrugged off his arm. "Do you mind? I'm trying to do something here."
"Actually, I do mind. Why don't you put this aside for a minute?" He made as if to close her book and, for the second time that day, Emerson's temper snapped.
Jumping up suddenly, she shoved him away from her. "Look, fuck off, will ya!"
The entire common room fell immediately silent and, as in Potions, knowing that every eye was trained on her made Emerson even angrier.
Brandon stood up, gazing at her as if he honestly had no idea why she was so upset. "What's your problem?"
"YOU ARE, YOU BLITHERING ODIE!" she shouted. His innocent act was making her feel childish, which made her blood boil. "Or are you too retarded, in addition to everything else, to grasp that?"
She spun around and grabbed her books and papers so hard that some of the parchments tore, bringing tears of frustration to her eyes. She stormed past her shocked housemates and up the stairs, her ponytail swinging wildly behind her. The door to her dormitory flew open before she could even touch it and slammed shut mightily behind her.
Leaving her upset and alone, exactly the two things she'd been trying so hard not to be.
******
It was a few minutes before anyone moved in the Gryffindor common room after the girls' dormitory door had slammed shut. But even when they did, nobody spoke until Brandon Wood unfroze.
Everyone was now staring at him and his shocked expression morphed into a red-faced scowl. "What the hell's her problem?" he asked the room at large. "She used to be so cool but she's been such a bitch lately."
"Shut up, Brandon!" chorused Germ Forrester and Takeshi, two of Emerson's classmates, who immediately cast each other startled looks. Normally, the two boys were always at odds with each other, but now had not only actually agreed on something, but had even spoken in unison!
Brandon glared at them. "What, now I can't state a fact? Is there anybody here who hasn't thought that at least once these past weeks?"
Everybody avoided everybody else's eyes at that, though Jerrianne Youngleer was smirking hugely. For a change, the Fakers were too subdued to respond fast enough and Jerrianne's smirk turned into a scowl directed at them.
Lyna, who had been sitting as stunned as everyone else, suddenly jumped up and grabbed her books, glaring at him. "This is all your fault, Brandon! You just had to keep pushing her, didn't you? Why can't you get a clue?" She stomped up the stairs and once again, the doors slammed.
"I don't know what it is, but something's going on with her!" the Gryffindor Keeper continued adamantly, as if addressing the Wizengamot.
"No shit, Sherlock," Will Shriver muttered loudly and Brandon flushed.
"Keep your mouth shut, you little twerp, or I'll shut it for you!"
"That's enough, Brandon," Etienne Weasley said sharply. "And if it's this kind of atmosphere that's going to be in here for the rest of the night, everybody might as well go to bed right now!"
Brandon shot him a look of death but sat down. Slowly, conversation returned to the room, in hushed whispers at first. But it wasn't long before it was as noisy as ever, as if there hadn't been even the slightest glitch or interruption in the madness. After all, human beings are nothing if not adaptable.
But at least three Weasleys and one Wood sat subdued, knowing that a letter or letters would be leaving their hands in the morning, bound for the home of two of the most powerful wizard folk in recent history.
****
Carolyna Lupin lay awake in her bed for a long time that night, long after she was sure her best friend had stopped crying and succumbed to restless sleep. Lyna herself sniffled quietly, feeling horrified at herself. For her inaction, for her silence. She should have told Uncle Harry and Aunt Hermione ages ago. She should have told someone a long time ago.
Because now, she feared that Emerson, her friend whom she considered even more of a sister than her own sister, had been hopelessly, irreversibly broken. This could have been stopped a long time ago, but she hadn't wanted to go against Em. She'd wanted to be supportive, thinking that Em needed someone on her side.
Now she realized that she had been supportive in the wrong way. She had even lied to Aunt Hermione when Emerson's mother had asked if she knew anything. If Aunt Hermione had asked her the question in person, Lyna knew she probably would've told the truth. But it had just been so much easier to give in to Em and write a letter of lies back to Ballynore. She should've been brave enough to do what she'd known she needed to do. Because she'd also known that Em would never do it on her own, not with the knowledge of possible harm coming to her family if she did.
But tomorrow, the silence would be broken. She would go to the Headmistress and she would tell her everything. Emerson would likely be mad at first, but she would come around.
"It's for the best," Carolyna whispered, as the tears rolled across her cheeks. "It's for the best."
*****
End Notes:
1. The Latin in this chapter: Confligere is "to strike or throw together; to collide"; Petulcum is "butting with the head". That's just a working translation, of course, as I'm no Latin whiz so pardon me if it's all or partially wrong.
2. If anyone is wondering what a "blithering Odie" is that Em called Brandon - I promise to explain in a later chapter :) A Chocolate Frog for anyone who can guess, though.
3. Please review!