Audacity. | Harry Potter

FIFTY-NINE

THE IMAGE OF Draco Malfoy laying half dead had yet to leave Freya's mind. It was one the first times she saw the true consequences of all the power her and her peers held. One word and any one of them could easily become a murderer.

Two minutes longer and Harry could've become a murderer.

The thought didn't settle right with Freya. Maybe it was ignorant of her to think people wouldn't make mistakes, but something about Harry's behavior scared her. She couldn't help but wonder if it was her fault.

The blonde thought about what Dumbledore said to her months ago, about the universe keeping her Harry apart for a reason. After all, he spent his first few years in relative peace when she wasn't near him.

Maybe she was the reason Harry was acting out. Maybe she was the reason all these bad things were happening. Most importantly, maybe Dumbledore was right.

It had been two days since the incident, and Harry had been stuck in detention for most of them. When he wasn't, he had still yet to make eye contact with the girl. His own guilty conscience felt worse when he pictured the horror on Freya's face as she scrambled through bloody water to save a boy he had nearly killed. The war hadn't even truly begun and look what he had already done.

He didn't feel like the chosen one, he felt like a failure.

"Freya?" Hermione's voice, more delicate than usual, called up to the girl who was laying atop her bed, staring at the ceiling, "Are you up there?"

"No."

"Did she really just-" Ron, also downstairs, scoffed with confusion, earning a small but hard nudge in the ribs from Hermione, "I meant, why don't you come down here?"

"Go away."

The two teenagers sat at the bottom of the stairs, running out of ways to draw out the blonde. They had real news to tell her, but they weren't about to just shout it out in the middle of the common room for everyone to hear. Things had grown messy, and the two Gryffindors were at a loss.

"What do we do?" Ron whispered, although his tone was rather loud.

"Well I would suggest just going up there," Hermione started but then but her cheek, "But I have a feelings we might receive a nasty hex in response."

"Well who won't she hex?" Ron began to ask before Neville Longbottom made his way over to the two, about to open his mouth and ask what they were doing.

"Neville!" Hermione's face lit up, "So glad you're here."

"Uh," The boy looked between his two classmates, "Why?"

"Well-" Ron started to speak, but was once again cut off.

"We need Freya's help with something, will you go get her?" Hermione finished, an innocent smile on her face.

Neville looked at them both again before scrunching his face, "Sure, I guess."

The boy didn't think much of it as he headed up the stairs to find his friend. He didn't really understand why Hermione or Ron weren't capable of walking up to her, but regardless he was happy to do it.

"Freya?" He called out.

"Ronald Weasley I will throw my fucking shoe at you." Freya stated, still laying on her bed, her grown out blonde locks hanging over the edge.

"Oh," Neville gave a slightly nervous laugh, "I would prefer if you didn't do that."

Realizing the voice was in fact not the red haired boy who had successfully annoyed her, she whipped around into a sitting up position, "Neville?"

"Speaking." He waved, still not sure if he was safe to enter or not.

"I'm sorry," Her tone turned genuine, "I thought you were Ron and Hermione."

"Hate to disappoint." Neville chuckled making his way over and taking a seat next to her, and as he did Freya returned to position of laying down, "You okay?"

"I don't know," Freya answered honestly, surprising even herself, for some reason she always ended up spewing her guts to Neville, wether she wanted to or not, "Life is just very complicated."

"Who would've thought life would be complicated for a witch?" He teased kindly.

"Ha ha funny." Freya groaned, burying her head into her pillow.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really," the girl sighed deeply, sitting up and looking him, "Do they actually need me for something?"

"Honestly I'm not sure," Neville snorted, "You should probably find out though."

The blonde groaned again, earning a laugh out of Neville, who was enjoying the little show she put on. He quite enjoyed friendship with Freya Majors, the girl was always entertaining to him.

"Well I guess I have to go down," Freya sighed, flinging herself off the bed and onto her feet. Neville followed after her as she reluctantly trotted down the stairs.

Hermione stood up immediately as she heard two sets of footsteps, "Freya is that you?"

"No."

The blonde made her way into view, making Hermione cross her arms in the slightest bit of agitation.

"Took ya long enough," Ron struggled up from his seat on the stairs, receiving a cold look which shut him up.

"What do you two want?" Freya asked, doing her best to keep her annoyance to a minimum.

"It's about Harry," Hermione started, but Freya's heart was already dropped, "We're worried about him."

The blonde searched her brain for the right words to say. She agreed with them, of course, but she knew she had to be careful with revealing information.

"Did something happen?"

As Freya asked that question, Hermione duh around in her robe pocket and pulled out a small vial, with drops of Felix Felicis remained inside, "He gave us this."

"The luck potion?" Freya took the bottle from Hermione's extended hand and looked at it, "Why would he do that?"

"He thinks Malfoy is going to try something tonight," Ron whispered, carefully this time to ensure their classmates didn't over hear, "Then he left with Dumbledore."

The new information being presented to her made Freya scrunch her face in confusion, attempting to process.

"We were hoping you wrote something," Hermione brought up hopefully, "Or could write something?"

"It doesn't work like that," Freya snapped on accident, not meaning the harsh tone she said it with, "I don't control it."

The group fell silent, each one hoping another would speak.

"What do we do?" Ron finally asked, looking to the two girls in front of him, and for once both were at a loss for words.