A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed!! Much, much appreciated :) In the second chapter after this,
the crap hits the propeller, promise. Thank you.
Chapter Nineteen - Things Fall Apart (Day Two)
If there was one thing Emerson hated about being a Potter, it was that everyone seemed to know who she was.
Most of the time, that didn't really bother her. But then there were the times, like today, when she couldn't turn around without hearing her name mentioned in hushed whispers. If somehow they had forgotten, her little meltdown the night before had apparently reminded her Gryffindor housemates of who exactly she was, that she was the daughter of the legendary Harry Potter.
And it irritated her.
"As if Harry Potter's daughter isn't allowed to lose it sometimes," Em muttered bitterly to herself as she climbed the stairs back into Gryffindor Tower. As if she didn't have ample reason to lose it. Let's just see any of them lug around the sack she was carrying and not go ballistic at least once.
It was lunchtime and her best friend had disappeared right after their last class. Em had gone to the Great Hall to wait for her, but after a good quarter hour and no sign of Lyna, she had gone looking. This time she was sure that she wasn't imagining a half-dozen pairs of Weasley eyes following her out of the Hall, as well as a lone pair of Wood ones. She had huffily ignored his attempts to get her attention, because as far as she was concerned, her now-embarrassing blowup was entirely his fault. She had enough to deal with, she was obviously overwhelmed, but oh no, it was beyond Brandon Wood's realm of capabilities to pick up on that.
"Pisshead," she grumbled, pushing open the door of her room.
Immediately, she got the sense that something wasn't quite right. All the beds had their hangings open, except one. And the one that was closed was emitting tiny, furtive sniffles, as if its occupant was trying not to give herself away.
Em frowned as she approached her best friend's bed. "Lyna? Are you all right?"
Her friend didn't answer, and Em felt a wave of panic. Had something happened? Had Smiley-
"Lyna?" Emerson pulled open the hangings slowly and scrambled onto the bed. "Lyna, what's wrong? Why are you crying? Is it Smiley? Are you hurt?"
Her friend tried to smile as she wiped her eyes, which were very red. "No, I'm okay. Of course, it's not Smiley."
Em let out the breath she'd been fearfully holding in. "Then what is it? You weren't at lunch so I came to look for you. What's wrong?"
"Nothing, really," Lyna said, turning red. "I'm just being silly."
"Carolyna, you're a terrible liar," Em said softly. "Tell me what happened."
Her friend was silent for a few moments, plucking at her blanket. "It's really nothing. I just- I was in the loo on the fourth floor and I heard, y'know, some people talking."
"About what?"
"About me and Davis."
Emerson's brow furrowed. "What were they saying? Who was it, anyway?" She noted the quick darting of Lyna's eyes to the bed across the room and felt a rush of hatred. Jerrianne. That was who had made Lyna cry. "Why do you care what that cow says, Lyna?"
"It wasn't really what she said. It's what she said Davis said," Lyna muttered, flushing deeply. "One of them, I think it was Maria, said she'd seen me and Davis talking and that it looked like we were both having a blast. Jerrianne told her to shut up, that Maria didn't know what she was talking about. She said she'd talked to Davis and asked him if he liked me, and he'd said that no, he didn't. He just kind of pitied me so he was just being nice." Lyna took a deep breath but her voice wobbled when next she spoke. "She said he said I was a bit too mousy-looking for his taste. That she was more like it."
A now-familiar ringing began in Emerson's ears as she watched her friend swipe at the fresh tears that were leaking from her eyes. How dare- Lyna was not- Lyna was beautiful! Lyna had the softest hair Emerson had ever touched, the most amazing eyes the color of honey that were always full of laughter and kindness and concern. Lyna was a wonderful friend and Em was livid.
Perhaps her features showed her fury because when Lyna looked up, a startled expression appeared on her face. "I'm fine, Em, really. It just took me by surprise, that's all. I don't think they even knew I was there. Okay? You're not gonna do anything, are you? Please?"
She seemed to be on the verge of tears again so Em took a deep breath and forced a smile. Which flickered and died as she recalled something the other girl had said. "Why were you in a bathroom on the fourth floor, anyway? We had DADA and that's on the second floor, which has bathrooms too, of course."
Carolyna blushed again, but the worry had gone from her eyes now, to be replaced by a steely defiance. "I was coming from Headmistress McGonagall's office."
A sinking feeling began in Em's stomach as she stared at her friend in horror. "Oh, Lyna, you didn't."
"She wasn't there," Lyna snapped. "I'd gone to talk to her this morning after breakfast, but she was just leaving for London. So she said I should come to her office around lunchtime. But when I got there, she hadn't returned yet."
Emerson closed her eyes as panic swirled through her being. McGonagall was back now; she'd been in the Great Hall when Em was there. "You said you'd give me two da- oh, screw it. I'm going back to lunch. You coming?"
"Don't be mad, Emerson. This is for the best, you know it," Lyna said softly, tears shining in her eyes again.
"Are you coming to lunch?" Em repeated as if she hadn't heard her, but she wasn't angry. At least, not at Carolyna.
Because she found that Lyna's tears reminded her of why her friend had been crying in the first place. And this provided Em with a handy respite from the dizzying fear and panic she was experiencing. The red haze of fury proved to be quite an effective buffer, indeed, and Em was raring to go.
"I don't feel like eating," Lyna muttered, her face pinking up again.
"Okay," Emerson answered, climbing off the bed and heading for the door. When she reached it, she turned back to look at her friend. "Lyna?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm not mad at you."
She closed the door behind her before her friend could respond, or maybe talk her out of what she was going to do. Because this was one thing that was long overdue. Somebody should have put that Youngleer parasite in her place a long time ago.
Her anger propelled her all the way to the Great Hall, so that later, she couldn't recall the actual journey. But suddenly, she was standing outside the great oak doors and pushing them open. As she reached for her wand, however, she quickly changed her mind and headed for the Ravenclaw table instead. Best to get her facts straight before charging into action.
Davis Chapman looked up from his steak and kidney pie when she tapped him on the shoulder. He smiled when he saw her. "Hey, Emer-"
"I'd like a word outside," Em interrupted, and watched the smile drown in the confusion that flooded his face.
"Er, okay."
He followed her out of the Hall and she leaned back against the rough stone, staring up at him. "Sorry to interrupt your lunch. But I need to know what's going on between you and Jerrianne Youngleer."
He looked flabbergasted. "Um, who?"
"Jerrianne Youngleer. Stupid, yellow-haired cow who thinks she's all that and then some?" Em said irritably, feeling the anger lapping at the edges of her voice.
"I don't know who you're talking about," Davis said slowly, frowning at her. "Is she in your year? Wait, that snooty blonde girl with the two tag-alongs?"
Em nodded once and raised an eyebrow.
"What do you mean, what's going on between me and her? I doubt I've ever said two complete sentences to her in all-" he broke off and stared through narrowed eyes. "Did she say something is going on between me and her? First off, I don't know her from Helga Hufflepuff and second, I already-" There, he broke off again and his eyes widened. "Did she say something to Lyna?"
Emerson didn't answer but she knew from the outrage filling his dark eyes that he'd figured it out. The bloke was in Ravenclaw, after all; it would've been highly disappointing if he hadn't been able to deduce such a simple puzzle.
Davis's mouth opened and closed without any words for a minute before he managed to speak. "What the- she's a lying hag if she said anything like that. Emerson, I really like Carolyna." His pale features flooded scarlet, but he didn't break eye contact. "I would never do something like that."
"I believe you," Em said softly, managing a slight smile. "Sorry to bother you."
He let out a deep breath, and glanced around as if looking for someone, before looking back at her inquiringly.
"She's up in Gryffindor Tower. She said she didn't feel like lunch. I think she'll be fine if you talk to her," Em said, answering his silent question and feeling the blood resuming its pounding in her ears. Pushing back from the wall, she pulled out her wand and turned to re-enter the Great Hall.
"Wait," Davis called. "You're not going to do anything, are you?"
Em almost smiled at his, unbeknownst to him, exact echoing of Lyna. Perhaps the two of them really did belong together. "Don't worry about it, Davis. Oh, and if you ever hurt Lyna, you'll have me to answer to, and that's a promise."
Deciding that she had tarried too long, she strode over to the Gryffindor table and stopped short across from her nemesis, ignoring the curious looks that her housemates were throwing her. She found that, in her anger, she didn't even need to speak the incantation; the nearly-full pitcher of pumpkin juice simply floated up from the table as if it had suddenly decided that sitting was overrated. She levitated it to directly above Jerrianne's head, pausing until the blonde looked up at her.
"Was there something you wanted, Potter?" Jerrianne said haughtily, glaring at Em.
Emerson smiled genially. "Actually, there was. I thought you were long overdue for a shower." The slightest twitch of her wand, and the pitcher overturned, sending the chilly, orange beverage cascading down onto the shrieking girl.
"Argh! You bitch!" Jerrianne shrieked, flapping her hands uselessly, as if that could turn off the golden fountain.
It was as if everybody, be they student, ghost or professor, all of whom had been stunned into paralysis by the spectacle they were witnessing, had ceased to exist to Emerson. She saw no one but the female across from her who had caused her so much hardship, who had hurt her sweet, loyal friend. Her anger was all-consuming, and yet, she felt a strange calm settle over her.
"As usual, there you go assigning other people what you know are your own attributes," Em sighed wearily. Her voice was so mild and conversational that, were not for the dangerous inferno in her emerald eyes, one would think she was merely discussing the weather. "But I'm not surprised. You are such a sad-arsed liar to other people, why would you be any different to yourself? I honestly can't be bothered to ponder it, though."
The pitcher had run out of juice, but Em kept it hovering above her shocked and soaked classmate, loathing her. When she spoke, her voice, though still mild and quiet, held such menace that more than one person felt uncomfortable. "But here's a little warning, Jerrianne, and I don't mean that just your perfect hair might get ruined: fuck with my friends again and you'll regret it. Have yourself a really special day now."
Upon giving the other girl a rapid, hard once-over, she spun on her heel and strode calmly away, not pausing to observe that the heavy pitcher, now removed from the spell holding it up, had succumbed to gravity and was headed for what appeared to be a dead-on collision with the sticky, blonde head below it. She didn't see Professor Flitwick's split-second wrist movement that made the jug swerve slightly, missing Jerrianne's head but glancing off her shoulder and smashing against the table. She heard, but didn't acknowledge, the shocked gasps that echoed through the Hall.
And only when the voice of her Headmistress reached her ("Emerson Potter! Stay right where you are!") did she stop, that strange calm still swirling around her.
"I have never- such a display-" McGonagall sputtered, looking rather frightening in her apoplexy. "You will go to my office! You will wait for me there! And while you wait, you will think about what you have just done! Password is Felis catus. Go!"
Aware of all eyes on her, Emerson let her feet carry her from the Hall, up and down empty, echoing corridors and stairs and into McGonagall's office. Upon entering, she sat in one of the chairs across from the vast desk and took a deep breath. The calm that had cradled her before was now dissipating, leaving her filled with a maelstrom of emotions: shock, anger, confusion, worry.
Fear.
She had wasted the second day that she'd begged Lyna for, not that Lyna had intended to let her have it, apparently. And she was still no closer to any other resolution than to tell her parents.
Feeling tears prickling at her eyes, Em was startled when someone spoke. She'd thought the room was empty.
"Well, hello there."
Her head whipped around and she stared at the portrait. It was of a man wearing a long, purple cloak, who was reclining in a chair parked in what appeared to be a bowling alley. He was very old, with long silver hair and an equally long and silver beard. His eyes were a bright blue that sparkled behind half-moon spectacles and his nose was very long and crooked. Perched on the back of his chair was what appeared to be a phoenix.
"Um, hi," Em replied, offering a weak smile.
"Hmm, tell me, are you a Potter?" the portrait asked, smiling gently down at her.
Em nodded. "Yeah. I'm Emerson."
"Emerson Potter. Ah yes, I've heard of you."
You don't say. Em took a deep breath and suppressed the urge to roll her eyes, but looked up in surprise when the portrait chuckled.
"I'm guessing you've heard that a few too many times, yes?" the man said, his blue eyes twinkling. "Your father was exactly the same way with fame. I'm Professor Dumbledore."
Em gave another weak smile and nodded. "I've heard of you, too. My parents told us all about you."
Dumbledore chuckled again. "Did they now?"
"Yeah. They even named my brother, Ben, after you. His middle name is Albus."
The former Headmaster beamed for a second. "I am very honored. But about the fame thing, do not worry about it too much. Your father had to deal with it too."
"At least he was famous for something good," Em muttered to her hands, hating herself for sounding so pathetic.
Dumbledore's brow furrowed. "And yours is not a good reason?"
She chewed her bottom lip for a minute before answering. There was something about this blue-eyed man in the portrait that made her want to share some of her burdens. She'd never told anyone, not even Lyna, what next she blurted. "Well, seeing as how I'm famous for being somebody's bastard child, I'll have to say 'no'. I mean, where's the good in that?"
The portrait was silent for a few moments, but she could feel him watching her. His voice was almost sad when he spoke. "I'm certain your parents don't feel that way."
She made an impatient sound, staring across the room at Headmistress McGonagall's huge shelf of bulky textbooks. "Well, they wouldn't, would they? Being biased and all that." She sighed. "But, unfortunately, no amount of bias has ever been able to change the truth."
"How old are you, Emerson?"
The strangeness of the question - what did her age have to do with anything? - startled Em and she looked up. "I'm twelve."
So young, yet so cynical. What could have caused that? Dumbledore thought, gazing into the third incarnation of confused green eyes that fate had allowed him to encounter.
Before he could comment, however, the office door swung open and Professor McGonagall strode in. "Thank you for waiting, Miss Potter." She sat down behind her desk and gazed across sternly at Em. "So, is there anything you would like to tell me?"
Em frowned in what she hoped appeared to be confusion. "Like what, Professor?"
"Miss Potter, your behavior since returning to school has been steadily more alarming, not to mention appalling! We are in only the first week of the term and already your Professors are expressing concern. And now that little tantrum in the Great Hall at lunch! What is going on with you?"
Emerson bristled. A tantrum? Is that what you think that was? You don't have a friggin' clue. "Nothing, Professor."
"Nothing?!" McGonagall exclaimed, looking outraged, her brows dipping severely. "Your behavior at lunch was certainly not nothing! Miss Youngleer could have been seriously injured by that little stunt you pulled! And such language- fifty points from Gryffindor and a week's worth of detentions!"
Em stared down at her feet, fury blazing through her whole being. It was so unfair! Why was she the one being lectured and punished when that witch Jerrianne had been the one saying such lies, making Lyna cry? She didn't regret what she'd done. Hell, she would do it all over again, if it meant that that cow would pay.
"- and you realize I'll be notifying your parents about this," McGonagall was saying.
Her head snapped up, her ears ringing. "I don't care," she blurted. "Tell them whatever you want."
"Miss Potter, what on earth are you crying for?" the Headmistress said, looking concerned and only then did Emerson realize that tears were streaming down her cheeks. She wiped at them angrily but they kept tumbling down, running under her chin and down her neck.
"Emerson?"
"I can't talk about it!" Em sobbed, standing up so abruptly that her chair clattered backwards to the floor. "Please, Professor, may I be excused?"
The teacher was looking alarmed. "Of course. Go straight to the Hospital Wing, do you hear me?"
"Thank you," Em sniffled, stumbling to the door and out into the corridor. Closing the door behind her, she leaned back against it for a second, trying to compose herself. Of course she had no intention of going to the hospital wing. That would require being around people and she wanted- oh God, she needed to be alone!
Instead, she made a beeline for the secluded Astronomy Tower and slammed the door. She felt so helpless, so powerless, so weak. It was all falling apart and she couldn't do anything to stop it. She couldn't carry it alone anymore, and her weakness surely meant that Budget, Vina, Ben would pay the consequences.
The innocent need not suffer after all...
Smiley had said that in her very first letter, and now it looked as if, despite all Emerson's efforts, the needless suffering of the innocent was nevertheless going to come to pass.
I'm sorry, Ben. I'm sorry, Budget. I'm so sorry, Vina! I tried so hard, I really did... but I couldn't do it... I was too weak... I'm so sorry...
She slid down onto the floor of the deserted Astronomy Tower and cried bitterly, her tears splashing onto the cold, stone floor and spreading fluidly away.
*******
Back in the Headmistress's office, McGonagall and Dumbledore spoke in concerned tones.
"I think it's something to do with the circumstances surrounding her birth," Dumbledore supplied seriously.
McGonagall frowned. "Do you think so?" She shook her head gravely. "I remember when Potter had that meeting and introduced her to us. I was shocked, to put it mildly. It wasn't just that he had a child, but the situation with the mother, you know?"
Dumbledore nodded. He had, of course, been told the whole story more than once. "Best be informing Harry and Hermione, then."
The Headmistress nodded earnestly. "Right away, Albus. Right away."
****
End Notes:
Felis catus is the Latin name for "cat", natch!
Next chapter: Some H/Hr quality time... and the summons.