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THREE |  BIRTHDAY JITTERS
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❝I DON'T BELIEVE YOU'RE GOING TO TURN INTO A WEREWOLF TONIGHT, MAUDIT.❞

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THE FEELING OF DESOLATION WAS NOT A FOREIGN EMOTION FOR ISAAC. The aching of his rapidly beating heart was accompanied by deep shaky breathes, as if the oxygen would fill the empty hole in his chest. His mind was clouded by a haze, barely able to register his surroundings. The moonlight that seeped through the high windows into the bathroom was the only indication of the late hour.

"Get it together," Isaac hissed, gripping his hair tightly before releasing it. He unbuttoned the buttons of his shirt, tossing it away from him, but the heat seemed to burn him from the inside.
              Rubbing his head, tears pricked in Isaac's eyes, threatening to fall out. A groan escaped his mouth after he aggressively inhaled through his nose, taking a hold of his hair once again.
                         Though he felt empty, there was a pressing sensation on Isaac's chest, crushing his lungs. His stomach turned and had he eaten during dinner, it would have quickly escaped his insides. All rationality had escaped his mind and all Isaac wanted was to feel nothing. He was feeling everything, all the hair follicles he was currently pulling, all the thoughts racing through his mind and despite all those amplified sensations, he still felt so empty. Like nothing mattered. Yet everything mattered at the same time. Everything mattered too much. There was no middle ground and it drove Isaac mad.

Isaac looked at his reflection in the mirror, unable to grasp the image. The boy in the mirror might have looked like him, but Isaac could barely recognize himself. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was sticking up in all directions, sweat decorating his face. He could see the anguish in his own eyes. "Why?" Isaac let his hands rest on the sink, the first tear finally dropping from his eyes.
            "Why tomorrow? Why of all bloody days!"He slammed his fist against the sink, the pain in his hand distracting him from the headache for only a moment before enhancing it. Tears were streaming freely down his face as he lowered himself on the cold floor.

Defeated, Isaac looked up at the large windows seeing the full moon shining through the dark clouds into the bathrooms. His muscles were tense as he clenched his jaw, leaning his head against the cool sink. He wanted to suppress the memories, he wanted to not think about them, but it was as if his mind was taunting him. Isaac deserved no rest and had to be plagued with the images. He closed his eyes tightly in a desperate attempt to stop the images. But he saw red and the shimmering light of the full moon through his eyelids, accompanied by anguished and blood-curling screams. They bounced off the walls of the toilet, the echoes only capturing Isaac longer in the painful loop. He'd heard those screams in all his dreams, asleep and awake.

"Isaac," a mellow, sweet voice called, somehow finding a way through Isaac's mind and pushing away the screams. Unable to tell how much time had passed, Isaac opened his eyes, seeing two familiar bodies in front of him. They were floating slightly above ground and looked sickly pale, transparent even. He recognized them as the Fat Friar, the Hufflepuff house ghost and Duncan Ashe, a boy he had met during his third year.
             Isaac had been in a similar situation then, only much louder. It had been after Defense Against the Dark Arts, where they were being taught about boggarts. He remembered letting everyone go before him, until professor Lupin had taken notice of it. He had called Isaac up front, forcing him to face his fear and Isaac had wanted to hate Lupin for that, not knowing that he would get better causes to hate the man later that year.

The thirteen year old had many fears and dreaded facing any of them. But the boggart had managed to combine all of his fears into one he had never even considered. After a lion had its terrific roar turned in a barely audible yelp, the boggart transformed as soon as it had Isaac in its view, turning into a werewolf. Isaac knew it was him by the red and black varsity jacket that was on the brim of ripping apart entirely. The werewolf was heaving heavily, before howling. Scattered around him, reflected in a thick layer of fog, lay the bodies of Aila and his mother, barely alive and covered in deep gashes with insane amounts of blood oozing out of them. It hadn't taken a second before Isaac felt his stomach turn, tears stinging in his eyes as he dashed out of the classroom into the closest and most desolate bathroom he could find.

There, he had sobbed his heart out, after emptying his entire stomach in a toilet. He kicked sinks and stall doors, screamed until his lungs burned. It was only a few moments after that a very frustrated Duncan had floated through the floor.

"Will you stop the bloody wailing," Duncan had snapped. "I've heard enough of that from Myrtle." It was the start of an odd relationship that Isaac was still unsure of what to call. Was it a friendship? Or did they only hang out because they felt comfort in each other's company?

"Are you alright, my boy?" The fat friar floated closer to Isaac, his eyes full of worry, with Duncan trailing a bit behind him. "What troubles you so late?" He lowered himself to Isaac's eye level.

Isaac glanced at the fat friar, his shoulders slumped. He managed to muster up a weak smile. "It's nothing, Friar. Just birthday jitters." He rubbed his eyes with his arm and noticed how Duncan had retrieved his shirt, handing it to him.

"Are you mental, you could freeze to death here," Duncan expressed his concern. At the sight of Isaac letting out a careless laugh, Duncan frowned. Isaac always had a cynical attitude during his low points, but Duncan could never get used to it. He thought that he was cynical, but Isaac was on a whole different level. He turned his head to follow Isaac's gaze at the moon, the puzzle pieces finally falling together. He nudged the fat friar, pointing at the moon.

"Oh, Lord." The fat friar put a pudgy hand on his cheek, before turning to Isaac. "How about you rest, my boy." Though the friar only had pleasant conversations with Isaac, he was aware of his situation, after Duncan had felt at least one other ghost, someone who knew Isaac fairly well, needed to know, in case he wasn't present.

Duncan floated through the friar, in front of Isaac. "Yeah, mate. Wailing isn't gonna solve a thing."  His cold hands wrapped around Isaac's burning arm, forcing him to stand up. He looked into Isaac's eyes, seeing how the boy was finally taking in his surroundings. "Welcome to earth, Maudit." He grinned at the sudden focused expression of Isaac at the mention of his mother's maiden name, well aware that Isaac hated it when Duncan called him that. "Let's get you to your dorm, yeah?" He glanced at the fat friar, saying, "I'll take care of him. Could you look out for Filch?"  to which the fat friar nodded courtly, before flying through the nearest wall.

"I'm fine," Isaac told Duncan, after watching the friar disappear.

The teenage ghost let out a laugh. "Like hell you are." He released Isaac's arm, floating in front of him to look him in the eyes. "I won't tell you that you have problems, because at this point everyone knows, I'm sure. But we really need to get you back in your dorm, it's only the first week of school and those fifth year prefects are paying extra attention to prove they're worthy of that old piece of metal." He shot his arm through Isaac's chest, after noticing that the boy was starting to lose focus again.

Isaac gasped at the ice cold sensation that spread through his chest at the touch of Duncan's arm. He jumped backwards, his hand reaching up to his chest. "Alright, alright." He let himself be pushed out of the restroom by Duncan, before walking on his own. The two boys walked through the empty corridors in silence. "Do you believe in fate, Duncan?" Isaac held his shirt over his shoulder.

"I don't believe you're going to turn into a werewolf tonight, Maudit," Duncan replied after a sigh. "Nothing bad will happen tonight, to you or anyone else you love, so stop worrying."

"So you don't think it's a sign? A full moon, on my birthday?" Isaac looked at Duncan, noting his raised eyebrow and unamused expression. "You know what, you're right, never mind." He shook his head, trying to shake off the worry that was still present and rubbed the back of his neck, still feeling the burning sensation, albeit it was cooling down. He wondered if Duncan's appearance had cooled the room.
             Slowly regaining his senses, Isaac could breathe again and noticed his fatigue, barely able to keep his eyes open. His feet shuffled over the floor, as he barely had the energy to raise his feet. He was so tired, Isaac could swear he was starting to hear voices in the distant. "I'm such a wreck, mate, I can hear my thoughts arguing."

Duncan quickly hushed Isaac, stopping in his tracks. "You have a lot of issues, Isaac, but voices aren't one of them. It's a Weasley, I bet. I've seen plenty of them come and go." He glanced over at Isaac with a wicked grin. "Bet I can scare him into returning that bloody badge." And before Isaac could object, stopping his friend from giving Ron Weasley any traumas, Duncan had already disappeared through a wall.

Isaac sighed, continuing his path to the dungeons. He contemplated using his wand to conjure up light now that Duncan was gone, as he didn't want to accidentally repel his friend with the light. But Isaac didn't want to disturb the sleeping ghosts and alert any prefect or professor strolling through the corridors, searching for students out of bed. Eventually, Isaac didn't need to conjure up light himself, as he was instead blinded by a wand just inches away from his face. He immediately raised his hand to shield his eyes from the sudden bright light in his eyes.

"Isaac?" a girl's voice sighed, before lowering her wand. Through his fingers, Isaac caught a quick glimpse of Hermione Granger's magnificent hair. "You were so quiet, I thought you were a ghost. Didn't you hear me call out to reveal yourself?" She sounded relieved, still breathing slightly heavy. "What are you doing awake so late? You're not allowed to be out after curfew."

It took Isaac a few seconds, blinking heavily to regain most of his sight back. He squinted at Hermione, the soft glow of her charm flowing over her jaw, showing the faint outlining of her volumnous curls.

"Isaac, are you alright?" Hermione stepped closer, growing concerned over the boy's silence. She noticed his dishevelled appearance and his shirt that had fallen onto the ground.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Isaac quickly rubbed in his eyes, his mind quickly going over excuses. "I sleepwalk sometimes, you see." He smiled half-heartedly, picking up his fallen shirt off the ground. "What are you doing up so late?" He turned his head sideways, rubbing his hand through his hair absentmindedly. 

Hermione quickly pointed to the badge on her chest, still wearing her school uniform. "I'm  a prefect. I was patrolling with Ron, but he went after someone clashing against one of the armors."
             She turned to look behind her, as if she was expecting Ron to appear behind her at the mention of his name and Isaac followed her gaze, a small part of him afraid that someone would jump out of the shadows. Despite Duncan's odd method of reassuring Isaac earlier, he could never be too certain. She looked back at Isaac, this time apologetically.
             "I'm sorry, Isaac, but I'm afraid I have to take 5 points from Hufflepuff for being out after curfew, sleepwalking or not."

Isaac's head turned to her direction, confused for a moment, before quickly shaking his head. "No, it's totally fine, no hard feelings." He glanced behind Hermione and behind his own back one more time. "Good luck patrolling." His hand had fallen from his head to the side of his neck. Isaac walked past Hermione.

"Wait," Hermione turned on her heels. "Will you be going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?" she asked as Isaac had turned to face her. Hermione didn't know what overcame her to ask him. Maybe it was his disheveled exterior that she was worried about, or his sleepwalking that often meant no good. She wanted to know that Isaac still had the average Hogwarts student experience. Though she didn't know Isaac very well, she had finally understood his usual expression. It was the same sad look that she had noticed in Harry's eyes since Cedric's death. Her curiosity was piqued and she was ashamed to admit she wanted to know what dark shadows haunted Isaac.

Isaac looked at the floor, remembering the trip to the close village. He had his permission slip and was certain that Aila would want to go to celebrate his birthday, but Isaac would at the time rather lay in his bed all day to avoid anything bad from happening. Maybe he could convince Aila to lay with him, to ensure nothing would happen to her as well.
"Don't know," he shrugged. "I'm not feeling too well."

"Oh." Hermione stood slightly disappointed. "I hoped to see you for a butterbeer, maybe? If you do decide to go, of course."

His head shook up and down slowly, as if he was thinking over the invitation. "I'll think about it." He send her a quick and small wave, before turning around once again. With his head turned away from Hermione, Isaac frowned. He knew she was still worried about him since Cedric. But he didn't need her pity. He'd rather have her show interest in him for him. He wanted her to get to know Isaac Collan, not the boy with issues.  Though a small voice, in the back of Isaac's head, was urging him to take up on Hermione's invitation. Pity or not, he'd still spend time with the Hermione Granger. Maybe she could learn that Isaac was more than the helpless boy she thought he was.
            Had she not encountered Isaac exhausted and after one of his episodes, the way his mother liked to call it, he would have definitely took her up on her invitation. Isaac couldn't help but laugh at his own patheticness, deciding that he would hate himself for declining Hermione's offer tomorrow morning.