Invidiosa

Three D's: Dread, Distress, and Dumbledore

'Deliberation, Determination' wait no... 'Destination, delib'... Wrong. 'Destination. Determination, Deliberation'.

Many students were gathered in the great hall for their lessons. Attia dreaded the three words. She wanted to vomit just thinking about trying to apparate five feet in front of her, and every syllable emphasized seem intended to punch her gut over and over again.

'What's got you so pale, Normie?' Draco teased next to her. His awkwardness evaporated from the night before. Out here, he was better than his brooding R.o.R self and fashioned his behaviour as normal in front of his cronies Crabbe and Goyle, who were also hitting themselves with snickers.

'I hate this,' she wearily said. 'I hate it, it's so uncomfortable.'

'You're scared?' he taunted, his face twisting into unholy glee. 'You're actually scared?'

'Yes!' she snapped. Attia's anxiety was only intensifying with his words. For once, he really was getting under her skin and it was quite easily.

He laughed heartily. 'Oh, this is a treat. Come on, Normie,' he whispered teasingly in her ear, 'what's the worst that could happen? You splinch yourself and end up with a limb over there?' He pointed across the hall with a mocking grin. His friends, contrary to the teasing, looked now a bit terrorstruck themselves.

'Well,' she swallowed her fear. 'If it's so easy, you do it. You can't? That's what I thought.' Attia shot him a glare, but it was clear he was enjoying her distress far too much to be deterred as he laughed. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her nerves as the instructor kept saying those nasty three Ds. She flailed her arms at the side of her to try to shake the jitters out. The idea of splinching herself—of leaving parts of her body behind—loomed large in her mind.

First try with them nothing much happened. Fifth try, Susan Bones splinched, and yet, their ministry instructor continued to urge them to try for the next hour. Attia was freaking out and yet knew if she didn't have the determination, or deliberation, she might lose a limb herself.

By the third lesson, her anxieties hadn't got better.

She shut her eyes, thought through the Ds, and a loud crack followed. She'd missed her hoop by about ten steps, still twirling on her feet and crashed into Dean Thomas. He was elated, excited to see her manage, but she was not all together, on the cold ground looking like a cat prepared to heave.

McGonagall transfigured a waste bucket in front of her as she unleashed her breakfast into the endless void, clutching the bin shakily and urged back to her spot and away from a disgusted Thomas.

'Well, you did it successfully albeit not in the right spot,' McGonagall patted her on the back. 'You might get used to the feeling if you try again.'

She relented to laying on the cold ground, sweating with her anxiety and green tinged face. 'Yeah, no thank you. I'll stay here. And wait till next Saturday.' Children roared with laughter around her, Draco especially. And she did stay that way until they were dismissed.

February blurred into March. The wet and gloom seeped into the stones of Hogwarts, making Attia too hopeful of a thunderstorm perhaps waiting to happen. Their next Hogsmeade trip had been cancelled for safety concerns, landing the same weekend as Ronald's birthday. 

Her Hogsmeade delivery route would have to be stalled, or, for the time being, Fred and George'd have to mail her all the fake bottles they'd use and have her fill them and deliver. She didn't want to be seen handing them out and make things more difficult than it already was.

A letter landed in her oats unceremoniously, along with a few feathers. She wanted to slap that stupid bird. She took it up, shaking it free of her soggy meal.