Metanoia • Harry Potter • Book I

Chapter 21

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Harry asked gently.

"Ask me that again and I'll break your legs so you can join me," Keziah snarled through gritted teeth.

Tonight was the End-Of-Year feast and Keziah wasn't missing it. Sure, she hadn't tried walking since she'd first been put in the Hospital Wing, but there was no time to face your crippling fear of not being able to walk properly again like the present.

According to Madam Pomfrey, as long as she regularly took pain-relief potions and didn't stress herself, she'd be fine. Keziah didn't feel fine. The worst part was how infuriatingly helpful Harry was being.

The git had just been unconscious for three days and handed a token of his parents yet here he was, being supportive to his sister. The jerk.

"Miss Potter, if you don't feel ready, you can stay in the Wing for a few more days," Madam Pomfrey added, holding the walking cane.

It was a simple thing, made from mahogany, with a cushioning charm on the handle. According to Madam Pomfrey, it was also charmed to support Keziah and assist her with walking much more than a Muggle cane would.

"No!" Keziah yelled, her hands and voice shaking. She was tired of being treated like she was fragile, about to break and any given moment. She hated how people looked at her like they were mourning. She needed to be there at the feast.

The ground was less than an inch away from her but Keziah figured the bottom of the Mariana Trench was closer. Then all you had to was sink through miles and miles of the open ocean until your crushed up body hit the floor. You didn't have to do anything yourself. Perfection.

"Keziah?" Harry's patient voice broke through the haze of panic. His green eyes sank into her vision.

"Perhaps we should wait another day," Madam Pomfrey frowned. "Let me help you back into the covers, dear."

"I'm fine!" Keziah yelped before she took a deep, slow breath. "I'm fine, Miss. Just give me the cane."

"You don't sound fine," Madam Pomfrey sighed.

"Well, I am! I don't need you taking care of me! I'm not weak! I can do this ON MY OWN!"

Her outburst rang through the Hospital Wing, leaving a ringing silence behind it. Harry closed his open mouth and Madam Pomfrey took a deep breath.

"We are just trying to help you, Miss Potter," she said wearily. "If you cannot appreciate that, I'm afraid I can't assist you. I'll be back once you've learned some manners."

Madam Pomfrey left the cane leaning against the bedframe and vanished into her office. There was the muffled sound of something hitting the wall.

"What's really the matter, Keziah?" Harry asked lowly, slipping out of his bedcovers and sitting down next to her.

"I already told you, I'm —" Keziah breathed heavily, her fringe slipping down over her eyes, " — fine."

"Then why are you crying?" Harry whispered.

Sure enough, she was. Tears streaked down her face, dripping onto the sheets. Her lower lip trembled with the weight of all her emotions crashing down after being held up by now-broken dam walls. Desperately, she tried to wipe them away, but the tears kept coming and coming, soaking her face and then Harry's shoulder. Keziah could barely breathe, the air being sucked in by choked hiccups.

"What if... what if I'm never able to walk properly?" she whispered.

"You don't know that, Keziah," Harry said, stroking her hair. "And even if you aren't, that won't change who you are."