The Muse {An HP FF}

Chapter 20

"Harry you have to eat," I urged.

"I'm not hungry."

"C'mon Harry you need your strength," Seamus Finnigan said as he piled ketchup on his sausages, "Seekers are always the ones that get clobbered the most."

"Thanks Seamus," Harry said dully as I wacked him.

"What? It's true," Seamus said defensively as he rubbed his head.

I sighed deeply as I grabbed his plate and began to try to force feed him.

It was the morning of the first Quidditch match of the season and Harry was a nervous wreck. I really couldn't blame him; the game was extremely dangerous and risky.

The night before, I had the twins explain the game to me because I didn't want to be left in the dark the following morning, but I almost regretted wanting to know. What they told me seemed too unreal, and too stupid of the school board to allow anyone to play.

"Has anyone died from playing it?" I asked horrified after they finished explaining what the bludgers, quaffle, and snitch were for.

"No, just a few broken bones and really hard hits," Fred said. "It's really not that often someone gets seriously hurt; well except for the seekers, they're usually always targeted."

I gasped in horror as I realized Harry was the team seeker.

"But it's okay, Fred and I will make sure he won't get hit," George said hastily.

As I sat next to Harry, shoving food into his mouth, people came over to wish him good luck and to assure him that they would have a mattress ready if he fell off his broomstick; I don't think these people were helping him feel any better.

"You'll be fine mate, you're a great flier, plus you have the Nimbus 2000!" Ron said as he stuffed his face with scrambled eggs.

As encouraging these words were, Harry still turned to the color of old porridge.

"Is there any way to make him feel better?" I whispered to Ron. "I don't remember much about him so I don't know what to do to comfort him."

"Well," he said as he swallowed his toast, "As far as I know, you're the only thing that can calm him down."

"How do I do that? I don't even remember growing up with him."

He didn't answer me right away as he thought about it. "I think..." he started slowly, "That the only way to reassure him is to make him think you're beginning to remember who you used to be."

I gave him a questioning look.

"I'm willing to bet all of the money in gringotts that half of Harry's anxiety is from the fact that his only good family isn't who she used to be." He waved at Hermione as she sat down with us. "Look, all you have to do is act like you're coming back to your senses and it'll relax him."

"I'm not crazy Ron," I snapped.

"I never said you were," he said simply.

I pondered about it for a bit. Maybe Ron is right, and at this point, it's worth a shot.

"Okay," I said finally, "But how do I do that?"

He smiled. "Simple; Hermione and I can talk about how you told us about the memories you gained last night, and when Harry overhears and asks why he wasn't included in the recalling of your past, you can say it was sort of a surprise." Hermione who was listening closely, spoke up.

"But Ron, that didn't actually happen."

"So?"

"Isn't it lying?"