The Three Brothers: The Cure

Patience

10thJanuary 1993

Harry gripped his broom tighter as he zoomed through the many loops that Wood had set up for him to practice. Although it was freezing outside, he found his hands clammy with sweat. But Harry didn't really mind. Even though he had been flying for more than a year now, he still felt the same exhilaration every time he sat on his Nimbus and shot off into the sky.

Up there, he felt he owned the sky. Up there, he felt free.

But lately, Harry found himself lost in a sea of thoughts. He found himself unsure—unsure of what he was supposed to do, unsure of how he was supposed to do it, and perhaps most alarmingly, unsure of himself.

All his life, before coming to Hogwarts that is, Harry had been alone. Though he had lived with the Dursleys since he was one, they never considered him one of their own and Harry had been happy to reciprocate that feeling. Even though he had to do a mountain of chores, listen to whatever drivel the Dursleys poured on him, and become the primary target of Dudley's 'Harry Hunting', Harry had always felt in control of his actions. He had always been sure of his actions; even if said actions would earn him long punishments and starvings, he had always been sure of them.

But ever since last year, that had changed. Now he had friends, and Harry was afraid for them. The incident with Quirrell had shown him the truth; the possibility of dire consequences, all because he had been too sure of his actions. His actions could get his friends hurt; could get them killed. And that scared Harry.

It wasn't as if Harry was not grateful for his friends. On the contrary, Harry often felt like the luckiest guy alive. Of all the first-year Gryffindors, Ron and Hermione were the only ones who had stayed back along with him during the Christmas hols. Granted, the main reason for doing so was that they could illicitly brew Veritaserum, but Harry knew they wanted to keep him company; to make sure he wasn't left alone.

And that was the crux of the issue. That night, when Harry had decided to go and try to protect the Philosopher's Stone himself, his friends had insisted that they join him despite his protestations. Even Neville and Mark, once they knew of the danger, refused to leave him alone to face the danger.

What was he supposed to do then? And what was he supposed to do now, when they came face to face with danger again? They were planning to question Lockhart with Veritaserum; a plan in which a million things could go wrong. And now, for the first time in his life, Harry didn't feel sure of himself.

As he rolled left through the final hoop and began to descend, Harry wondered how the whole business with Lockhart was going to go. Now that the potion was days away from being complete, Harry's mind kept wondering about how they were going to give it to Lockhart and how he would react to it. Now that the classes had commenced once again, Lockhart was even more insufferable than ever.

The lessons were still useless; all they consisted of were elaborate enactments from various sections of his many books. And now, ever since Professor Dumbledore had announced that the Chamber of Secrets was real and that the monster inside had been killed, the rumour roaming around the castle was that it was Lockhart who was responsible for the heroic deed.

Harry was willing to bet his broom that it was Lockhart who had started the rumour in the first place.

In any case, they would know the truth soon enough. Shouldering his broom, Harry began to walk towards the changing rooms. Ever since they had lost their chance at the Quidditch Cup last year, Wood had been more tougher on them during their practices. Harry couldn't exactly blame him; having a Quidditch Cup win on his record would really help Wood's future prospects as a professional quidditch player. Harry was determined to not let him down this time. As Harry remembered their last match against Slytherin, he was painfully reminded of the rogue Bludger that had smashed into his arm as well as the individual responsible for the same; Dobby.