The Potter Twins and the Prisoner of Askaban {3}

13. The Potter Legacy

"I have these thoughts so often I ought to replace that slot with what I once bought, 'cause somebody stole my car radio and now I just sit in silence" ~ Car Radio, Twenty One Pilots

Madam Pomfrey insisted on keeping me in the hospital wing for the the remainder of the weekend. I didn't argue or complain to her, I did, however, forbid her from throwing away the shattered remnants of my Nimbus Two Thousand. I know that it's stupid and childish to insist on keeping it, as it is obviously beyond repair, But I can't help it. I feel like I've lost one of my best friends.

Over the course of the weekend I had a stream of visitors, all intent of cheering me up. Hagrid sent me a bunch of earwiggy flowers that look like yellow cabbages (but I placed them on my bedside table nonetheless) and Ginny turned up with a get well card that she made herself.

The Gryffindor team visited again on Sunday morning, this time accompanied by Wood, who told both Harry and I that he didn't blame us in the slightest, in a very hollow, dead sort of voice, however.

But unfortunately, none of them made me feel any better, because none of them could really understand what happened during the match.

Apart from Harry, I am yet to tell anyone about the Grim, not even Ron, Tay and Hermione, because I know Ron and Tay would just panic and Hermione will scoff. The fact remains, however, that it has no appeared twice; and both appearances had been followed by a near-fatal accident.

The first time, I had nearly been run over by the Knight Bus; the second, I fell fifty feet from my broomstick. Is the Grim going to haunt Harry and I forever? Are we going to spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders for the beast?

And then there's the Dementors. I still feel sick and humiliated every time I think of them. Everyone agrees that the Dementors are horrible, sickening creatures, but no one else collapses every time they go near them, like Harry and I. And no one else can heard echoes in their minds of their dying parents.

Over the weekend, when Harry and I were alone in the hospital wing, we had spoken in hushed voices about the voices we both hear. About how we both dream about the shrill cries of our mother at night; her final attempt of protecting us from him.

Despite everything that happened with the Dementors, they weren't the biggest problem plaguing me during my stay in the hospital wing. It was the panic. The sickening feeling of panic that overwhelmed me during the match, the thing that ultimately caused the fall in the first place. That couldn't happen again, that much I'm sure about.

I don't want everyone thinking that I'm some sort of attention seeker, putting on a show for others to remind them of all that's happened to me.

*~*

Returning on Monday is the biggest relief; to get back to the noise and bustle of the main school where I'm forced to think about other things, even I must endure Draco's taunting of my brother. Draco is almost beside himself with glee at Gryffindors defeat, but he did, however, send me a 'get well card' which I swiftly hid underneath the covers of the hospital bed for obvious reasons.

"If Snape's taking Defence Against the Dark Arts again, I'm going back to the hospital wing," I say, as we heard towards Lupin's classroom. "Check who's in there, Hermione."

Hermione peers around the classroom door.

"It's okay!"

Professor Lupin is thankfully back at work, and it certainly looks like he has been ill. His old robes are hanging more loosely on him and there are dark shadows underneath his eyes; nevertheless, he smiles at us as we enter to take our seats. But the moment we sit down, we all burst into an explosion of complaints about Snape's behaviour while Lupin had been sick.