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THE SMALL THIRD YEAR GIRL continues to sob hysterically as Seamus tends to the wound branding her arm. Once he is done, the girl is guided to the dormitories by Ginny, and Seamus sighs as he falls back on to the floor and lies there.
A large gash is visible on his face as well, thanks to the whipping he had earned when he was caught by Filch while trying to steal a few potion ingredients from the dungeons. Fortunately for him, Professor Slughorn had intervened and claimed that he had sent him there. This led to an agreement that the Potions teacher would lend them ingredients every week if the students promised to keep their mouths shut in front of the Carrows.
Seamus couldn't give him his word, for, neither could he vouch for the entire population of Hogwarts, nor could he agree to not protest while the Carrows unleashed their power upon the innocent students. But Slughorn had shaken his head solemnly and pleaded for them to be careful.
The event had a good outcome though, for Professor Sprout too, agreed to lend them her plants for any potions to be brewed.
When Seamus isn't in class or doing homework, he spends his time treating the wounds of those who had been targeted by the Carrows, and feeding them potions to soothe their pain. He had been a sensitive person all his life, but the sight of the nasty burns and bruises every single day has numbed his senses so much that he no longer feels anything. The thought terrifies him; he fears he is turning into them - into a monster. He doesn't remember being the slightest bit agitated when Ginny had stumbled into the common room one night with a wound running down her arm, tears streaming down her face and her hair dishevelled.
It's only his visits to Sir Cadogan that enables him to keep his sanity intact.
And the sketchpad he finds deep inside his trunk.
He has forgotten about it amidst all the chaos occurring around him. Right after the end of their sixth year, at the Hogwarts Express, Dean had given it to him. Seamus remembers the look of sorrow and distress that had been heavy on his features as he had placed the sketchpad on his hands. He didn't understand it then, but perhaps Dean knew that they wouldn't see each other again, for a very long time, perhaps ever. Seamus is a fool, and he knows it. He wishes he had spoken to him more during the train ride.
His heart gives a terrible lurch as he flips through the sketchpad. He had always been proud of Dean's remarkable talent, but now, amidst all of the toils he has to go through everyday, he finds himself missing him more the more he looks through the drawings. He finds Dean in every sketch carved onto the paper, in every drop of ink that runs through the course parchment, in every shade and every flower he has drawn along the margins.
They had been friends since first year, but this is the first time that he appreciates how much Dean means to him. Hogwarts is not the same without him, and he longs for his smile, his laughter, his presence.
And as these tumult of different, new, emotions floods through him, Seamus feels relieved at the thought that he isn't really turning into a monster.
