clever solitary girl

"Not if you shut it off." Harry said cynically, although they both knew he didn't really mean that. The young Gryffindor wore his heart on his sleeve, and that hadn't changed even after everything- Voldemort was dead and Harry's heart was a little more bruised but still on his sleeve like it wasn't a target. "Sometimes I wish it was that easy too..."

"I've tried that already," Theo said. "I'm rather better at it than you are -- no offense meant, of course -- but I'm afraid it didn't work out very well. So I've decided that a new tactic is required. And to that end, I would like to tell you, Harry, that you are a highly tolerable classmate, and that I would be most displeased to see any misfortune befall you."

“A spur of the moment decision.” Harry confessed, shrugging as if that explained everything. He had just meant to pop over to Diagon alley and get some supplies for the upcoming school year… honestly he hadn’t been expecting to be ambushed, but he supposed it was inevitable- there were all kinds of people out there that either wanted to duel him to show they were better, or kill him because he had defeated Voldemort and they didn’t like that their regime had fallen.

“I can leave… I mean if it’s a problem.” Harry finally said, “I can floo over to Hermione’s house. I’m sure she’s home I just- didn’t want to worry her anymore.”

Theo shook her head. "It's not a problem," she said. "I'm just...surprised, I suppose. I hadn't realized that you considered me someone to be counted on in an emergency." She ushered Harry inside, steering him to the kitchen and into a chair. His left arm was bent at an unnatural angle -- clearly broken, but that, at least, was an injury that Theo knew how to mend.

"That's definitely not true. You should wear a neon sign that says 'im confused' because you're a walking... confused... person." Harry snorted at the breakdown of his comparison. "For someone not confused you sound confused."

"Ah yes, Professor Lupin I find to be one of the most genuinely kind people I have had the pleasure of encountering." Albus encouraged, though he would sing Remus' praises all day if he could, he knew he didn't need to. Remus spoke volumes of his own steady ship thoughtfulness despite his struggles.

"A courage beyond your years, Miss Nott, when you next face a boggart you will at the very least be more prepared for what it might turn into. Fascinating creatures in their own right, but so terribly cruel in their abilities." He eyed her patiently for a moment, it would take courage to face that scene again though he would be curious to see how it was she would turn it around to defeat the boggart. He believed it was necessary for her to do it, therapeutic even.

Why couldn't people just mind their own business? It was a question that Theo often found herself pondering, and she had yet to formulate a satisfactory answer. She didn't want Albus Dumbledore's concern -- nor did she think she needed it. She knew how to deal with bad things, didn't she? After all, she'd had plenty of practice. Life went on. Life always went on. And Tuesday was Tuesday, whether Theo fainted in class or not. True, the ever-present sadness that she'd grown accustomed to seemed to weigh more heavily in her chest this year than it had in years past, but surely that was merely the result of the Dementors' presence at Hogwarts. It would go away once she was back home for Christmas, and Christmas was only seven weeks away.

Theo refused to admit, even to herself, that right now those seven weeks felt like an eternity.

Instead, she said, "Professor Lupin seems to be very well-versed in his subject. I believe I've learnt more from him in two months than I learnt from Professor Lockhart in an entire year. It's been a wonderful change of pace, sir, having a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher whose classes are so informative."

Draco might take pleasure in mocking Professor Lupin for his lined face and shabby clothes, just as so many of the Gryffindors enjoyed mocking Professor Snape for his unkempt hair, but Theo cared far more about her professors' abilities than she did about their appearances. The instructors at Hogwarts hadn't been hired to look glamorous. They'd been hired to teach, and both Professor Lupin and Professor Snape were quite skilled in that respect.

"That might be true. Admittedly a little... preoccupied." Harry shrugged casually, watching as she studied the diagram- the urge to ask her what she was looking at was overwhelming, but he figured that might be another lecture. "Oh really?" he asked dryly, "And what are those proportions without the Weasleys?"

This is the last thing he had expected- it didn't make sense! It had bene years, he'd been to the mind healer before... He should be better, why did his chest feel tight? What was wrong with him? This wasn't who he was anymore, why did he feel like that weak little kid who couldn't protect himself anymore?

Harry had dismissed his class for the day- much to their enjoyment, and had meant to just go to his quarters and wait it out, except he'd found Theo who seemed to know exactly what was happening.

Despite the ache in his chest he turned away, "I'm fine I-" His fingers dug into his chest as he stared at anything but her. "This is not happening... not now."

"I do know what this is, Harry," Theo said, in a voice that was rather more gentle than her usual brusque tones. "Deep breaths, all right? In for four, hold for seven, out for eight." It was a breathing exercise that Astoria Malfoy had taught her years ago, and Theo had found it to be far more helpful in a bad moment than she ever would have expected from something a simple as breathing and counting.

Theo's switch to speaking of the weather in general chit chat earned a quiet and warm chuckle from Albus, how quick she had been to control the conversation and speak more of homework, study and the weather of all things. "I have always so enjoyed a fresh breeze, there is something quite invigorating about the whisp of wind though while outside I often find I must take sometime to avoid the leaves landing in my beard." Gentle, whimsical and patient while he spoke with her.

As it happened, he had heard about her fainting incident in Defence Against the Dark Arts. It was not uncommon for students to experience such fear when facing their first boggart after all and Albus quietly repressed his own memory of doing so in his youth. Dementors were a class of their own when it came to handling fear and given what it was known they would do, to suck out a soul after wave and wave of immeasurable sadness, well, he expected most students facing a boggart that year would be coming into close contact with it transformed into the creatures.

And there it was -- exactly the thing Theo hadn't wanted to talk about. But she kept her voice calm and her expression placid as she said, "Oh, yes, I'm quite all right, sir. It was just a bit of a shock, that's all."

In truth, just a bit of a shock was downplaying the incident by quite a lot. The sight had been bad enough -- her father crumpled on the floor in a swiftly growing pool of blood, his ribs shattered by trampling hooves and his throat torn open by powerful jaws -- but the smell, more than anything, had been what had caused her to collapse. That awful, hot, metallic reek never failed to make Theo's stomach flip inside out and turn her legs to jelly. With the stench so thick in the air that day that it had transcended mere scent to become a taste as well, was it any wonder that she had fainted? The smell of blood, just like the presence of the Dementors, invariably flung Theo back to her worst memory: A summer's day in Greece, seven years ago, when she'd seen her mother die.

"Professor Lupin was very kind," she continued. "He had Pansy walk me up to the hospital wing, and Madam Pomfrey gave me a Calming Draught. And I'm sure I'll be better prepared the next time I encounter a Boggart, sir, now that I know what to expect. Forewarned is forearmed, as they say."

Of course, a Calming Draught hadn't been what Theo had really wanted, nor had the bar of Honeyduke's best dark chocolate that Pansy had later slipped her beneath the desk in Charms Class -- though she'd certainly appreciated it all the same. What she'd wanted was to see her dad, to reassure her anxious brain that he was alive and whole, and to run to his arms for one of his tight hugs, which would surely chase the dreadful memory from her mind. But she wouldn't see her father again until Christmas, so she'd had to content herself with writing him a long letter, and with the photograph he'd enclosed with his answer: A picture of himself and Hal in the garden, his tiny figure waving at her while Hal sat beside him with his golden tail wagging furiously.