I'm still learning to love
Still holding my tongue
Still playing where it's safest
And I'm still trying to be strong
Still stumbling along
To people and to places
That will take me where I need to be
Find out who I'm calling me

Life has only begun
And already I'm
Not sure if I can make it
But it's fine, I'm learning to fly
I'm saying goodbye
To people and to places
That make me less than I can be
Don't care if I'm really me

I am ready to try
This thing we call life
Though I won't do it perfect
And I'm still so terrified
Still so scared to die
But maybe it's all worth it
If I go to where I need to be
Find out who I'm calling me
Fight off all the negatives, the worries and the doubts
And don't forget to breathe

"Don't Forget to Breathe"
Anson Seabra

LUCY:

Despite the incredibly late night, I slipped out of the dormitory early Sunday morning to avoid having to face Hermione again. I didn't want to face anyone again, really, not for a while. I was planning to head down to the Black Lake with homework and just disappear for the day, but when I reached the common room, I was (somehow) not the only person awake.

George's head whipped around. "Cub! Great! You're up!"

"Would you mind getting Ginny?" Fred asked, his head whipping around a second later.

"We need to talk to you," Angelina added.

I nodded. "Er, yeah, sure. Just give me a second."

I turned back and crept up the stairs, unsure of what on earth those three possibly had in mind for us. I found Ginny's dorm easily enough and whispered a silencing charm as I tiptoed inside. I bit back a laugh with some effort when I spotted her — true to form, her feet were on her pillow, and her face was buried in the blankets at the foot of her bed. She always started the night with her head on the pillow, but by morning, she always found a way to tangle herself up, always while sound asleep.

Managing to hold back my giggles, I located her shoulder, buried though it was beneath yet another blanket, and shook it gently. Her arm shot out, swatting at my face, but I jumped out of the way.

"Merlin, Gin, it's just me," I whispered, fighting even harder to hold back my laughter. I caught her hand, still flailing in the my direction, and gave it a tug.

She finally lifted her face from the blanket mound she had created, and her eyes widened when she saw it was me who was holding her hand. "Oh, sorry, Lucy, I thought you were someone else."

"Do you do that every time someone has to wake you up?"

"Yes, she does," came the sleepy voice of one of her roommates. "It was nice seeing her do it to someone else for a change."

Ginny flushed and threw her pillow at the guilty party. "Shove off, Aitchison. What's up, Diggory?"

"Your brothers and Angelina sent me up here to get you, apparently they want to talk to us."

"At the arsecrack of dawn?" she groaned, looking out the window at the just-barely-lightening sky.

"Apparently," I replied with a shrug.

She groaned again and pushed herself up. "Brilliant. Well, let's see what they want."

We made our way down the stairs together after her friend threw the pillow back in retribution.

"This better be worth it," Ginny muttered with a scowl as she dropped onto the rug in front of the fireplace and crossed her arms.

"Good morning, sunshine sister," George said as Fred started cracking up. George glanced at me as I lowered myself to the rug next to her. "I don't see a black eye, so you must have been quick to dodge her 'good morning' greeting."

"Yeah, thanks for the warning," I scoffed. "For all of the times I've shared a room with her, I've never been on wake-up duty. Anyway, why are you all up this early? I thought I'd be the only one."

The twins exchanged a glance.

Fred nodded at George. "It was your idea."

"You're the captain," George said to Angelina.

"It was your idea," she echoed. "Go for it."

George planted his hands on his knees and leaned forward, grinning as he looked at the two of us girls. "Well, as you both know, the Pink Venomous Tentacula struck again yesterday."

Ginny muttered a lovely and succinct one-word description of Umbridge under her breath, making us all snort.

"Yeah, exactly," George said with an affirming nod. "She's awful, but unfortunately, what she says goes, meaning the team is three people down. That's where you two come in." He pulled a piece of parchment out of his robes and unrolled it for us to see. Across the top of it were the words The Mischief Managers' Guide to Playing Beater.

"As hard as it would be to replace the best Beaters to ever exist," Fred drawled, "we reckon you two stand a chance, especially with our help."

Mere hours prior, I'd written to Cedric that I wanted a breath of air again. Even if I was still in the water, even if I was still drowning, I wanted to remember how it felt to breathe.

Mere hours before that, I had realized while walking with Ron just how much I still loved Quidditch. Even though it'd never be the same without Cedric, even though I'd have to fight to be as good as I once was, I wanted to remember how it felt to play the game I loved.

I glanced at Ginny. Ginny glanced at me.

"Don't give me that look," Ginny said.

I cocked my head. "What look?"

"The 'I want to do this but I'm scared' look."

"I'm not scared," I replied defensively. She narrowed her eyes, and I realized this was a lie. "I haven't properly ridden a broom in forever, and the last time I did..." I shook my head. "I'd be rubbish, I can't do this."

"But do you want to?"

"Whether I want to or not is irrelevant."

"Is it?" When I hesitated, she raised her eyebrows and smirked. "I'm in, but only if you are."

A bit of silent communication happened then, as if the entire argument was playing out aloud.

Ginny knew I wanted to agree. I knew I wanted to agree, too, but agreeing meant fighting back against the waters that continued pushing me down, down, down. It would be easier to keep sinking. Pushing back against it would require effort, perhaps more effort than I had within me to give.

But I would never know what it felt like to breathe again until I tried.

Ginny knew I wanted to agree. I knew I wanted to agree, too, but agreeing felt like moving on, away from the site of the trauma, away from home, away from Cedric. It would be easier to say no. Moving on would mean starting to accept that the world was still turning without him, something I had been trying to deny since that fateful night my world fell apart.

But I would never know what it felt like to be part of the world again until I tried.

Ginny knew I wanted to agree. I knew I wanted to agree, too, but agreeing meant trying something new when all I had ever known was the same old position. It would be easier to try to negotiate for one of the Chaser spots. Surely someone like Katie who had less experience playing Chaser than I did would make a better candidate for Beater.

But then I remembered that Katie was the only Chaser to score a goal in the match the day before.

Ginny's I know you want to agree stare weakened me with every passing second.

"Come on, Lucy," she said softly after another long moment of silence. "I know you want to do this. You know you want to do this. The only person standing in your way right now is you."

And suddenly, I could see it. Ginny's hand plunging into the water.

And suddenly, I could hear it. Cedric's voice from somewhere below me, distant but existent, saying it was alright to take it.

I recalled with a rush how that nightmare felt. The nightmare I'd had the night of the 24th of every single month since that February. Being stuck on the bottom of the Black Lake, knowing Cedric would never come to save me. Cedric had saved me once, during the second task. he'd saved me several times over, really, not just that one time. But Cedric was gone. Perhaps it was time for me to let someone else try for once. Perhaps it was time for me to try to save myself too.

Slowly, slowly, I nodded. "Alright. I'm in."

I held my hand out for the parchment, and George passed it to me with a wide grin as Fred whooped and Angelina sighed with relief.

Ginny glanced over my shoulder and started reading aloud. "'The Mischief Managers' Guide to Playing Beater. Right off the bat (Get it?)' — you know what, I changed my mind, I don't want to do this anymore. That was horrible."

I laughed. "Oh come on, that was funny!"

"Thank you!" George said exasperatedly. "Fred tried to burn it off this morning!"

"It's quite literally one of the worst strings of words my eyes have ever had to read," Fred groaned, dramatically pressing his fists to his eyes for emphasis. "I can't believe you're defending him, Cub."

"It's funny!" George and I said in unison.

"No, it's not!" Ginny and Fred fired back, also in unison.

Angelina looked torn between laughing and crying. "Merlin help me, there's four of you now," she whispered, eyes wide.

The four of us looked at each other, and our laughter resounded throughout the common room.

"Face it, Angie, you love us," Fred remarked after we stopped laughing. He glanced out the window and swore. "Well, I was going to suggest we head out this morning and really get a jump on it, but it's snowing."

"Hang on, you were just going to throw us onto the Pitch and set the Bludgers loose?" I asked incredulously.

"The whole reason you were our reserve player as a first-year was because you borrowed Harry's broom and Wood 'accidentally' sent a Bludger up after you," he pointed out. "You didn't have a bat then, and you were still fine. Imagine how much better off you'll be having a bat now!"

"Well, I for one don't mind flying in the snow," Ginny said. "I learn best just jumping in and doing something."

I glanced at Angelina. "What do you want us to do, Captain?"

"I can't believe I'm about to say this, but..." She hesitated, dragging a hand down her face. "I'm going to regret this." Angelina sighed heavily. "I'll let the boys call the shots for now."

Fred and George instantly started laughing, and Angelina closed her eyes.

"Only until after Christmas holiday!" she said loudly over the laughter. "I still have to find a Seeker, and I'll want these two at team practices when they start up again, but I'll give you until January to do what you will. You're idiots, but bloody good Beaters."

"Can't argue with that," I retorted.

Angelina rose from the couch, shoving the boys' heads. "I'm going back to bed. I barely slept last night. Just don't break my new Beaters, alright?"

The twins saluted in sync, and she rolled her eyes as she headed in the direction of the dormitories.

As soon as the door closed, I sighed. "Not to be a stick in the mud, but I should probably wait until after the full moon to fly," I said softly. "I obviously couldn't say that around her, but, well, I haven't been on a broom in a while, I haven't actually played Quidditch in an even longer while, and, well..." I held up one of my violently-trembling hands for emphasis. "Thursday or Friday, maybe?"

"Totally fine," George said with a nod. "There's the complication of our brooms being confiscated as well."

I bit my lip. "Right. Well, maybe Fred could borrow my broom and teach Ginny the mechanics for the next couple of days while you teach me the logistics, then once I'm, well, good to go, we could switch?"

"Works for me!" Ginny jumped up. "I'll go change into something warmer! Be back in a bit!"

While what I said about waiting until after the full moon was 100% true, I had another reason for wanting to wait a bit, too. The last time I'd been on a broom was that night with Harry. I had looked down. One second, I had been looking up, then the next, I had been looking down, and I was suddenly aware of how far I could fall.

It was ridiculous, really. If I had fallen off my broom, it would have been no one's fault but my own. Flying really only had one rule in the first place: don't fall. Flying was only flying when it wasn't falling.

Or was falling its own type of flying, in a sense?

I knew I stood a better chance of not falling off my broom if I had recovered from the full moon, but beyond that... I didn't want my first time flying to be with anyone else. That night, if I had fallen, Harry would have been there to catch me. When I started falling third year because of the dementors, the twins had been there to catch me. When I had fallen off my broom as a kid, Cedric was always there to catch me before I hit the ground. And if I fell in the future, Ginny would be there to catch me.

But I didn't want anyone else to have to catch me.

I wanted to fly just to make sure I wouldn't fall.

~

The snow was kind enough to let up a bit as the four of us marched to the Quidditch Pitch. Ginny and Fred kicked up into the air as George and I climbed the stairs to the commentary box.

"As good of a Chaser as you are, playing Beater is a completely different game," George said as we settled on a bench. "You won't score goals anymore, but if you play it right, you'll have just as big an impact on the score as Chasers. Beaters are in charge of deciding which goals can and cannot be allowed to happen."

"Keep the Bludgers away from anyone in red and send Bludgers in the direction of anyone not in red?" I summarized.

"That's the simplest way of putting it, yes."

"What do you mean?"

"On the Pitch, in the game, it's not always that simple."

I cocked my head. "Well, you don't want Bludgers hitting your own teammates, do you?"

"Oh, no no," he said with a laugh, "but often it's a question of which person in green or blue or yellow you want to try to hit with the Bludger. For example..." George pulled a scrap of parchment out of his pocket and tapped it with his wand. A small diagram came to life, with red and green Xs with name tags flying around the page to represent the Gryffindor and Slytherin players and little yellow circles to represent the Bludgers. He tapped it with his wand again, and the image froze. He pointed to one of the yellow circles. "See this Bludger?"

I nodded.

"See how it's heading toward the little Angelina X?"

I nodded again.

"What would you do?"

"Fly over and knock it away from her."

"Even though Ginny's closer?"

I bit my lip. "Oh. Right. So Ginny could save that one."

"Where would you have Ginny send it?"

"Toward the Slytherin Chaser on Angelina's tail?"

"Okay, good choice. But this game has two Bludgers. Do you see the other one?"

I winced. "Yeah, and it's heading toward a Slytherin Beater."

"Where do you think he'd send that Bludger?"

"Toward Ginny, to try to stop her from hitting the other Bludger away from Angelina."

George nodded silently.

I blinked at the piece of parchment. "Okay, yeah, I see what you mean. There's a lot more to playing Beater than I thought. How do you watch everything and everyone at once?"

"Well, that's not possible unless you're Mad-Eye Moody," he chuckled. "Admirable sentiment, though."

"But I have to keep an eye on everything and everyone, to make sure no one gets hurt." I frowned at my X on the diagram. "If I'm watching Angelina because she has the Quaffle, I might miss the other Bludger and it might hit her and it would be my fault."

"Alright, that's it, I'm adding Rule #2." George reached for The Mischief Managers' Guide to Playing Beater and scribbled something down, shielding it with his body so I couldn't see. He added a period with a flourish and read aloud, "'Rule #2, you are not omnipotent, omnipresent, and/or omniscient, so don't try to be. Just do the best you can. There's a reason there are two Beaters. Do your best, and trust that the other Beater is doing her best, too.'"

"But what if something happens to her?" I asked. "What if it's just me?"

"Alright, hang on, hang on," he said, scribbling something else down. This one took a while longer to write, so I glanced up at Fred and Ginny. Fred hadn't released any Bludgers yet; he was showing Ginny how to properly grip the bat. I studied Fred's form, since he was on my broom, after all. The way he was sitting on it was different, and I doubted it was because of the Fever Fudge after-effects anymore. He looked looser, taller. Bigger. With Chaser, I spent a lot of my time bent low over the broom, protecting the Quaffle, weaving through traffic. Sometimes I had to stretch and twist to throw or catch the Quaffle, but for the most part, I wanted to be as small a presence as possible. But Fred looked like he wanted to be as big a presence as possible, and Ginny was doing the same, even just holding the bat.

I'm in over my head, aren't I?

Before I could doubt myself any further, George waved his hand in front of my face. "You still with me?"

"Yeah, sorry, just..." I nodded and returned my attention to the paper. "Yeah, I'm with you."

"Just what?"

"Just thinking about how different this is going to be," I admitted. "I've only ever played Chaser."

"And Seeker! You caught the Snitch a few years back, remember?"

"Right." I pursed my lips and looked back up at Fred. "It's just that for both of those positions, you have to be small. You want to go unnoticed, a lot of the time."

George laughed. "Yeah, Cub, you're going to have to get used to being big."

I nodded silently.

"Hey, it's not a death sentence," he said. "Why do you look so upset by that? There's nothing wrong with taking up space in the world. You know that, right?"

I shrugged and reached for the parchment, wanting to see what he'd written, but he yanked it back and grew serious.

"A shrug's not an answer. You know you don't have to make yourself small anymore, right?"

"If that's what it takes to win, I can learn to do that," I replied, dodging the question as best I could and successfully snatching the parchment from his grip. He had written two rules.

3. If a Bludger is heading toward the other Beater, shout. Let her take care of it, she has a bat for a reason. If a Bludger is heading toward a non-Beater and you're closest, don't shout. Take care of it yourself, you're the one with a bat.

4. Don't let anything faze you. The score should never affect how you play your game. The audience should never affect how you play your game, either.

"I need that back, you gave me an idea for a fifth rule," he said, snatching the parchment back. "And a sixth, come to think of it."

"If I hear a 'Weasley Is Our Queen' song during the Hufflepuff match, I won't hesitate to send a Bludger straight into Draco Malfoy's face."

George grinned as he scribbled. "Good girl. Just don't let Umbridge see you."

"Truthfully, I'd send it her way first," I retorted. "Do us all a favor, kill two birds with one stone."

"Incapacitate two menaces with one Bludger."

"Exactly." I rested my chin on his shoulder and peered at the parchment. "Hey, you can't make that a rule! What has that got to do with anything?"

5. Be big. Unapologetically. Be bold. Unapologetically.

"I'm not done yet!" he said, his quill flying across the parchment.

6. Yes, even you, Lucy.

"Oh ho ho, you used 'Lucy' instead of Cub. You must mean business," I teased.

But George, for once, actually did mean business. He turned and looked at me out of the corner of his eye, seeing as my chin was still propped on his shoulder. "Yeah, I'm being serious."

"No, you're being George," I said, grinning impishly.

"Oh, you—" He reached for his wand, but I laughed and summoned it from his pocket with a quick "Accio wand!" before he got the chance. He rolled his eyes. "Poor word choice, alright. What does 'being George' entail, might I ask?"

I rolled my eyes. "Hey, you tell me. You're George, after all. What would I know about being George?"

"What does being Lucy entail, then?"

"Hey, I asked you first."

He hesitated, something uncertain flickering in his eyes. "Aren't I supposed to be teaching you about playing Beater?"

"Yes, yes you are." I handed him his wand back. "What's rule seven?"

"Oh, I know."

This time, he shielded the parchment so well I couldn't see what he had written until he passed it to me.

7. Don't get distracted by the cute boys that will inevitably be in the stands watching you. Such as Harry Potter, for instance.

"George Weasley!" I shouted, swatting his arm. "Scratch that out!"

"Scratch what out?" Fred called.

"Yeah, scratch what out?" Harry's voice asked from behind me.

"Nothing!" I said loudly, face flushing even hotter as I turned around to face Harry. "Good morning. What're you doing here?"

"Afternoon, actually," he replied, shoving his hands into the pockets of his robes. "When you four weren't at lunch and nobody knew where you were, I checked the map and figured I'd see what was up."

"Well, say hello to the newest Gryffindor Beaters, Potter," George said with a grand sweeping motion that pointed from me to Ginny. "Angelina gave her approval so we thought we'd start right away."

Harry's eyes widened, and he grinned at me after a minute. "Seriously? That's great!"

"Ah ah ah," George said disapprovingly. "Careful, Potter, this one loves to warp words. If you say serious, she'll turn it into your name somehow."

"Hence the serious-ly," he chuckled. "Trust me, I know, she's done it to me for years."

"And you still haven't caught on," I said with a dramatic sigh and teasing grin.

"And you still haven't gotten tired of making the same jokes," he teased right back.

I pointed at George. "I have a new audience now!"

"Oh, Merlin, no," he groaned.

I grinned. "This'll be fun."

"I bet." Harry rocked back and forth on his feet. "Say, Lu, are you hungry? I know you get hungrier before the full moon, and you did miss dinner yesterday," Harry pointed out.

"You failed to mention that bit earlier!" George yelped. "Go eat something!"

"Alright, alright," I said, shaking my head. "You three should come along, too, you know."

"You need to more than we do."

George shoved me toward Harry, who smiled triumphantly as he grabbed my hand and practically dragged me into the stairwell.

"So, Lucy the Beater?" Harry asked.

I tugged my hand free from his and released a short, excited breath of laughter. "I guess so. The twins and Angelina were in the common room before the sun was up this morning, waiting for one of us to come down, and I didn't agree immediately, but I did in the end."

"I'm glad," he said. "A bit surprised, but glad. Angelina said just yesterday that you turned down the reserve position."

"Yeah." I bit my lips together until we reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped out into the snow. "It won't be easy, trying something new that's still not... well, it's just..." I sighed. "It's complicated. I... well, I resisted as long as I did because Quidditch was what I always shared with Cedric, and I knew it would feel wrong doing it without him. But now, trying a new position while still getting to play the sport I love... we loved... I don't know. It feels different, but the same, and somehow that makes it right." I laughed. "I'm sorry, that made no sense."

"No, no, it does make sense," he said. "Honest, it does. I understand. I'm happy for you. You and Ginny will be great."

"It won't be the same without you on the team," I said, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. "I've only ever played in one real game without you."

"Yeah, well, at least I can be in the stands this time." Harry smiled a bit. "She won't stop me from going to the matches."

"You can borrow the bow I wore yesterday, seeing as I won't have need of it for the time being."

He threw his head back and laughed. "Brilliant. Make two for the twins, too. Something tells me they'd hate to be excluded."

~

I had a definitive spring in my step as we headed down to our first Care of Magical Creatures lesson of the year with Hagrid. I had enjoyed Professor Grubbly-Plank, but I had missed Hagrid fiercely.

"Do you know what he has planned, Hermione?" Ron asked. Apparently, she had gone down to his hut on Sunday morning to try to convince him of the dangers of Umbridge's inspections with limited success.

She sighed. "No. He was in the forest when I went down there yesterday."

"Oh, bloody hell, that's where he keeps the most dangerous ones, and by most dangerous ones—"

"You mean most likely to get him sacked, I know," Hermione finished on Ron's behalf.

"What's he keeping in there?" Harry asked. "Did he say?"

"No. He says he wants them to be a surprise. I tried to explain about Umbridge, but he just doesn't get it. He kept saying nobody in their right mind would rather study knarls than chimaeras."

Harry blinked. "He's got a—"

"No, he doesn't," I interrupted. "Trust me, I would know if he did."

"That's not for lack of trying, though, from what he said about how hard it is to get eggs," Hermione added.

I nodded. "Yeah. Nearly impossible."

"I don't know how many times I told him he'd be better off following Grubbly-Plank's plan," Hermione continued. "I honestly don't think he listened to half of what I said. He's in a bit of a funny mood, you know. He still won't say how he got all those injuries."

"I'll try talking to him after the full moon, if you want," I offered. I would have gone down to talk to Hagrid sooner, but I was somewhat afraid of what he might say when I was down there alone. I didn't regret talking about the caves, not really, but I wasn't in the market for sympathy. Quidditch was my first hope of a breath of fresh air in a long time. I didn't want to start sinking again, not while I was so close to the surface.

When we arrived, Hagrid had half of a dead cow over his shoulder and a wide smile on his face.

"We're workin' in the forest today! Bit more sheltered! Anyway, they prefer the dark—"

"What prefers the dark? What did he say prefers the dark — did you hear?" Malfoy asked behind us. He was trying to sound cool and unbothered and pompous, but I knew he was panicked. The thought — coupled with the still-healing bruises on his face — made me smugly happy.

Hagrid didn't seem to hear him, so we trudged off into the forest.

"Malfoy wasn't terribly brave the first time he went into the forest either," Harry muttered, looking like he was barely holding back a smirk.

Before I could reply, Hagrid started talking to us over his shoulder.

"Right, well, I've been savin' a trip into the forest fer yer fifth year. Thought we'd go an' see these creatures in their natural habitat. Now, what we're studyin' today is pretty rare, I reckon I'm probably the on'y person in Britain who's managed ter train 'em—"

Malfoy sounded even more worried now. "And you're sure they're trained, are you? Only it wouldn't be the first time you'd brought wild stuff to class, would it?"

"They let your deranged father into the Ministry, so anything's possible," I said in a voice only Harry, Ron, and Hermione could hear. Ron and Hermione exchanged a concerned look, but Harry appreciated my dark humor and laughed into his fist.

"O' course they're trained," Hagrid said in response to Draco.

"So what happened to your face, then?"

"What happened to yours?" I asked loudly as I stared at one particularly dark bruise on his cheek.

"You're one to talk, Scars," he snapped, eyes growing cold with anger.

"Hey, don't call her that," Harry said, stepping in his direction.

I sighed and grabbed him by the elbow. "It's fine, Harry, he's just making an arse of himself like always."

"Feeling brave today, are we, Diggory?" Malfoy asked, gaining momentum now that he had something distracting him from his fear of whatever was in the forest. He stepped toward me and lowered his voice dangerously. "You should be more careful. We all know how last year went, when that oaf—" He jerked his chin in Hagrid's direction. "—made the mistake of telling you what he was."

I clenched my jaw, hand trembling as it tightened around Harry's elbow. I struggled to hold back my temper. "I won't cause trouble if you don't, Draco."

"Right." His eyes glittered with malice. "You've won her over a bit, you know. She thinks you've finally learned your lesson, about not making a monster of yourself. I'd hate to have to tell her that's no longer the case."

"I won't cause trouble if you don't," I said again. My chest tightened. I couldn't risk Malfoy telling anyone else who I was. What I was. Not Umbridge, especially not Umbridge. But I didn't want him walking all over Hagrid, either. I scrambled for a stalemate, refusing to take a loss this time. "You might want to keep in mind, though, that Hagrid and I are among the people most familiar with this forest. If something goes wrong..." I looked around, pretending to actually be looking for unseen threats. "Let's just say you might want our help. Might want to be on our good sides."

That shut him up. He looked worried again, huffed as if he was trying to convince himself he wasn't worried, and hurried off to join Crabbe and Goyle and Parkinson again.

Ron whistled softly. "That was nicely handled."

"Thanks," I said, shaking as I released Harry's arm. "Who gave him that one bruise on his cheek?"

"That would be my work," Harry replied with no small amount of smugness. "The two of us should team up on him sometime. I'll beat him up while you verbally tear him to shreds."

I snorted and rolled my eyes. "I wish."

We had reached a small clearing in the forest. Hagrid dropped the half a cow and turned to address the class with a smile, seemingly oblivious to my whole interaction with Malfoy. "Gather roun', gather roun'! Now, they'll be attracted by the smell o' the meat but I'm goin' ter give 'em a call anyway, 'cause they'll like ter know it's me."

With that, he threw his head back and let loose a thestral call. He called two more times over the course of the next minute, then they began to appear.

Ron shifted. "Maybe he should call again?"

"No, they're here," I whispered, prompting concerned glances once again from him and Hermione.

"Great, two of 'em came!" Hagrid exclaimed. "Now, put yer hands up, who can see 'em?"

Harry and I both raised our hands, and to my surprise, Neville's was in the air as well.

Hagrid nodded. "Yeah, I knew yeh'd be able ter, Harry, and..." His face fell when he saw me, so he turned away. "An' you too, eh, Neville? Well—"

"Excuse me, but what exactly are we supposed to be seeing?" Malfoy scoffed.

"Look at the cow carcass," I said as I lowered my hand. The thestrals set to work on it, tearing off a couple of massive chunks of meat.

Parvati's eyes were wide with fear. "What's doing it? What's eating it?"

"Thestrals! Hogwarts has a whole herd!" Hagrid answered.

"But they're really, really unlucky! They're supposed to bring all sorts of horrible misfortune on people who see them. Professor Trelawney told me once!"

"No, no, no, that's jus' superstition, that is, they aren' unlucky. They're dead clever an' useful! Course, this lot don' get a lot o' work, it's mainly jus' pullin' the school carriages unless Dumbledore's takin' a long journey an' doesn't want ter apparate — an' here's another couple, look!"

Surely enough, two more stepped into the clearing, one of them passing incredibly close to Lavender, who shuddered. "I think I felt something, I think it's near me!"

"Don't worry, Lav, it won't hurt you," I said, watching as they joined the other two at the carcass.

"Yeah, they won't," Hagrid agreed. "Now, who can tell me why some o' you can see them an' some can't?"

"The only people who can see thestrals are people who have seen death," Hermione replied.

"Tha's exactly right, ten points ter Gryffindor. Now, thestrals—"

"Hem, hem."

I froze. No no no no no no no...

"Oh, hello!" Hagrid said, seemingly unaware of the danger he was now in.

My blood was already coursing hot and fast throughout my body because of the impending full moon. With Umbridge around, with Umbridge around in my favorite class, with Umbridge around in my favorite class with my favorite professor, my blood was beginning to boil. I glanced down at the mood ring around my finger. Hermione and I were scarlet together. Already enraged. And Umbridge hadn't yet spoken a word. Her annoying cough didn't count.

"You received the note I sent to your cabin this morning? Telling you that I would be inspecting your lesson?"

"Oh yeah! Glad yeh found the place alright! Well, as you can see — or, I don't know, can you? We're doin' thestrals today!"

"I'm sorry, what was that?" she asked, in the same slowed-down, dumbed-down voice she had used with him Saturday night.

"Er, thestrals!" Hagrid flapped his arms demonstratively. "Big winged horses!"

"Has to resort to crude sign language," she muttered aloud as she scribbled on her clipboard.

Oh. Oh no.

Rage mingled with despair.

Not Hagrid. Don't you dare, you... you... not Hagrid.

Hagrid pinkened. "Well... anyway. What was I sayin'?"

"Appears to have poor short term memory," the Pink Venomous Tentacula muttered, still scribbling.

No. No!

Hagrid recovered himself as best he could. "Oh yeah! Yeah, I was gonna tell yeh how come we got a herd. Yeah, so, we started off with a male an' five females." He gestured toward the smallest of the bunch. "This one, name o' Tenebrus, he's my special favorite, firs' one born here in the forest—"

"Are you aware that the Ministry of Magic has classified thestrals as 'dangerous?'" Umbridge interrupted.

I sucked in a sharp breath. NO. NO!

"Thestrals aren' dangerous," Hagrid said with a chuckle. "I mean, alright, they might take a bite outta you if yeh really annoy them—"

"Shows signs of pleasure at the idea of violence..."

"No — come on! I mean, a dog'll bite if yeh bait it, won' it? But thestrals have jus' got a bad reputation because o' the death thing — people used ter think they were bad omens, didn' they? Jus' didn' understand, did they?"

She didn't answer as she finished writing. Then, in her obnoxious slow, loud, babying voice, she said, with hand gestures when possible, "Please continue teaching as usual. I am going to walk among the students and ask them questions."

The boiling of my blood was beginning to manifest as tears that burned the backs of my eyes.

When I looked at Hermione, her eyes were glassy too. She glared at Umbridge, hissing under her breath, "You hag, you evil hag! I know what you're doing, you awful, twisted, vicious—"

Hagrid cleared his throat. "Erm... anyway, so... thestrals. Yeah. Well, there's loads o' good stuff abou' them."

"Do you find that you are able to understand Professor Hagrid when he talks?" Umbridge asked Pansy in a voice that probably carried all the way to the castle.

Pansy had the audacity to giggle. "No, because, well, it sounds... like grunting a lot of the time."

Burning. Burning. My eyes were burning, my lungs were burning.

I could barely hear Hagrid over the roaring in my ears.

"Er... yeah... good stuff abou' thestrals. Well, once they're tamed, like this lot, yeh'll never be lost again. Amazing senses o' direction, jus' tell 'em where yeh want ter go—"

"Assuming they can understand you, of course," Malfoy said, which made Pansy shriek with giggles again.

Archie made a loud ferret-like sound behind his hand in response, and Malfoy's face reddened around the bruises. Before anyone could react, Umbridge had moved onto the next student.

"You can see the thestrals, Longbottom, can you?"

Neville nodded.

"Who did you see die?"

"My... my granddad," he replied quietly.

"And what do you think of them?"

"Erm. Well, they're... er... okay."

Umbridge's quill scratched against the parchment on her clipboard. "Students are too intimidated to admit they are frightened..."

Neville's eyes widened. "No! No, I'm not scared of them—"

"It's quite alright," Umbridge said with a sickly sweet smile as she patted Neville on the shoulder.

"But I—"

She firmly turned her back on Neville and faced Hagrid. She still used hand gestures for emphasis. As if he were less intelligent than the rest of us. "Well, Hagrid, I think I've got enough to be getting along with. You will receive the results of your inspection in ten days' time."

I was on fire, I was a fire. I wanted to scream, and shout, and demand that Umbridge be fair, to Hagrid of all people, be fair for once in her life, to Hagrid of all people, but she was already walking away, and Malfoy's threat was still pressing up against the back of my mind, muffling all of the words that wanted to pour from my mouth in hot, scalding, scorching waves of righteous fury. I waited until she disappeared from view before letting an angry tear fall.

Just the one. Just the one.

I swiped it away and forced all of my fire back, swallowing it down as best I could. That fire kept burning in the pit of my stomach.

I wanted to stay after the lesson to talk to Hagrid, really I did, but I was too angry. I was too angry to properly form words, I was too angry to speak even if I had been able to form the words to say how I felt. I was fury, I was fire.

Thankfully, Hermione had no shortage of words.

"That foul, lying, twisting old gargoyle! You see what she's up to? It's her thing about half-breeds all over again!"

I clenched my jaw. The back of Harry's hand grazed the back of my hand. I wanted to reach for him. I didn't dare. Hermione plowed on.

"She's trying to make out Hagrid's some kind of dim-witted troll, just because he had a giantess for a mother and oh, it's not fair! That really wasn't a bad lesson at all! I mean, alright, if it had been Blast-Ended Skrewts again, but thestrals are fine! In fact, for Hagrid, they're really good!"

"Umbridge said they're dangerous," Ron said uncertainly.

"Well, it's like Hagrid said, they can look after themselves! I suppose a teacher like Grubbly-Plank wouldn't usually show them to us before N.E.W.T. level, but, well, they are very interesting, aren't they? The way some people can see them and—"

Draco Malfoy's horrible voice interrupted her. "Hey, Weasley, we were just wondering! D'you reckon if you saw someone snuff it you'd be able to see the Quaffle better?"

"Let's find out," Harry growled as he reached for his wand, but they didn't hear him because he had just started singing "Weasley Is Our King" with Crabbe and Goyle.

"Just ignore them," Hermione sighed as the three walked through the snow in the direction of the castle. "As I was saying, it's fascinating that some people can see them and some can't! I wish I could."

"Do you?" Harry asked in a voice that was very, very different from the growl he had just used.

Hermione paled. "Oh, Harry — I'm sorry — no, of course I don't—"

"It's fine." Harry turned to me. His voice was almost a whisper. "You alright?"

I opened my mouth to say I was okay, but the lie stuck in my throat. I swallowed. "You three go on to Herbology without me," I said instead. "It'll be too hot in there for me anyway, since the full moon is... you know. I-I'm just going to... just going to go."

"D'you want me to go with you?" Harry asked.

I paused. I hadn't even said where I was going. I didn't even know where I wanted to go. I just needed to go. And he had asked to go with me.

I swallowed again and shook my head. "It's cold out here. You shouldn't be out here in this for too long. I-I'll see you at dinner, though."

"Promise?" Ron asked, eyes solemn as he studied me.

"Promise," I replied with a nod.

"Don't forget to breathe," Harry said.

I nodded again, noting the earnestness in his eyes. With that, I turned and headed in the opposite direction of Herbology. I bowed my head against the snow, which was blowing harder and harder the longer I walked. Eventually, my feet brought me to the Quidditch Pitch.

I needed to breathe.

The locker room was dark and empty. My hands found my broom handle anyway, and my legs remembered how to mount it. My body remembered how to lean forward to gain speed as I burst through the curtains and into the sky. I went slowly. I scared of scaring myself.

Don't look down. You'll sink if you do.

Gravity seemed to tug on me more and more the higher I climbed, which didn't feel right.

In the past, I had felt the exact opposite way. I felt like I was tethered to the sky rather than the ground. But my world had been turned on its head, so in a sense, I understood why everything felt so wrong. Why I was so afraid. Why being on the ground felt so much safer. But that was wrong, that was all wrong. I wasn't supposed to feel that way, I had never felt that way before. It was wrong.

I can make it right.

Don't look down. You'll sink if you do.

I was underwater. I was sinking. Umbridge had shoved me downward again. All of the sadness and anger she had conjured up had weighed me down again, so I was sinking again, so I was drowning again, so I couldn't breathe again. I was waiting for Cedric to save me, Cedric wasn't coming, not this time, I couldn't breathe, the darkness and cold were closing in, I couldn't breathe. But I wanted to breathe.

Don't look down. You'll sink if you do.

Where was Cedric? Was he home in the ground below me, or was he home in the sky above me? Was he waiting for me at the bottom of the Black Lake, or was he waiting for me on top of the clouds? I didn't know. I had no way of ever knowing. Perhaps he was waiting for me in the warmth of blankets on a cold winter's night, in the warmth I hadn't properly appreciated since he died. Perhaps he was waiting for me in the first flowers of spring, which I would only live to see if I didn't give up now. Perhaps he was waiting for me even in the twilight of a summer's day, the time of day where I had gone to sleep every day that past summer because it reminded me too powerfully of his last moments on Earth. Perhaps he was waiting for me in the colors of autumn, to which I had been blind because I had spent so much of the past months crying until the colors of my life had all blurred together into lifeless darkness. Perhaps he was waiting for me to live, to fight, to breathe. To breathe.

Don't look down. You'll sink if you do.

I didn't look down.

I didn't sink.

Suddenly, I was level with the top of the stadium, and gravity fell away.

I could breathe.

So I did.