Very, very much an under-the-wire story (finished June 20, 2003). This is a bit of a continuation to my fic Legacy, although it doesn't have to be read prior to or after it. In fact, it really has nothing to do with Legacy, except that the spell Hermione was researching actually gets used here. I meant to have another story in between Legacy and this one, but with the book coming out so soon, it never materialized. So this can be read in the Legacy-universe, or it can be read independently.

I have committed the atrocity of creating an original character. She might be a Mary Sue. But she does not fall in love with a real character, nor do I want to be anything like her, so maybe she's not. I don't know. You decide.

Ratings, warnings ... oooh boy. Rated at least R for violence, dark themes, character death, and implied (but not graphic) rape of a minor. Pairings include Parvati/Dean and Ron/Hermione, both of which are basically nonexistent. This is the world through Parvati's eyes, and the story of what makes her a true Gryffindor.

* * *

Parvati Patil's little sister was murdered on a Saturday.  Later, when Parvati lay dying, cheek to cold stone, hand grasping out into black nothingness, she watched the planets click around and around the face of the watch that Dean Thomas had given her to mark their one-year anniversary, listening to the movement of time as Friday night passed into Saturday morning.  When Saturn entered the house of Vishnu, she blinked once, brown eyes painfully close to the dungeon floor, and then it was Saturday and she allowed herself to go.

Always before, Saturdays had been their favorite day.  When she and Padma were still in primary school, still living at home, Saturdays were full of fun and excitement and sometimes a few surprises.  Coursework was ignored and plans with friends were never made on Saturdays.  They would wake up in the morning – early, as children always do – to find some glorious surprise waiting for them – sometimes a treasure hunt, sometimes a family game spread out across the whole living room floor.  Once Mum magicked the entire house into a maze that ended only when all three of the Patil girls had made their way to the kitchen, where Mum and Daddy were waiting with beaming smiles and a tiny black kitten.

Sometimes, when she ran her shampoo-covered hands through her little sister's hair, the small black head looked fuzzy and soft like a kitten, and Parvati had to close her eyes to remind herself that Nandin was dead.  She had no way of knowing that he was the first of the Patil family to die.

"Not so hard, Parvati, you're hurting my head!" Pandita insisted, smacking her small, flat palm against the water so efficiently that a wide silver wave rose up and splattered across the front of Parvati's worn pink dress robe.  "Stop it!  I can shampoo my own hair!"

"No, you can't, Pandita.  You never get the front of your head rinsed.  Here, tip your head back, okay?"  Parvati flicked her wand once, and the shower head slunk down obediently from where it had been lounging in the upper corner of the bathroom.  "You need to learn to tilt your head back and not be so scared of getting soap in your eyes, and then you'll be able to shampoo your own hair."

"I can do it myself!" Pandita maintained, reaching for the spray of water.  Her fingers caught around Parvati's wrist, and she yanked suddenly, and before Parvati knew it the water had been turned and she was soaked from forehead to waist.  Pandita stopped and stared guiltily.  "Oops."

"Pandita!"  Parvati reached for a towel and reached first to wipe off her wand, which was emitting little pink and gold sparks in protest.  "See, this is why you can't take your own bath, okay?  Now stop being such a baby."

"I'm not a baby.  I'm almost eleven."  Pandita crossed her small arms over her flat chest and glared venomously at the piles of ice-white bubbles in front of her.  "If everything was normal, I'd be going off to Hogwarts in September.  Then I'd take my own baths!"

"Well, everything's not normal, and there's no Hogwarts for you to go to, so shut up and let me rinse your hair, okay?" Parvati replied, more harshly than she meant to.  Her little sister gave her a sullen look and tipped her head back, and Parvati felt unexpectedly guilty.  "Pandi, I didn't mean to snap at you.  I'm just a little stressed out."

"Yeah."

"You know that Mum and Daddy and I are all very worried about Padma."

"Yeah."

"Aren't you?"

"Sure."

"Pandita, is that all you have to say?" Parvati demanded, muttering "Aqua desistus" so that the water turned off and the shower head resumed its position up in the corner.  She reached for the bottle of butterginger conditioner that was Pandita's favorite – Padma's too.  "Your sister is off fighting in a war, and aren't you worried about her?"

Pandita shrugged noncommittally, and Parvati was filled with a sudden, embarrassing urge to shake her.  "I just want her to come home," the little girl replied finally as Parvati threaded her fingers through the smooth, wet cascade of hair that fell to the middle of her back.  "I just want everything to be normal again.  How come we don't do fun things on Saturdays anymore, Parvati?"

"Do you really have to ask?"  Parvati dipped her hands in the water to get the conditioner off, then waved her wand so that she could rinse Pandita's hair.  "Come on, Pandi, grow up.  Padma's not here.  People are dead.  How can you even think about having fun at all?"

"I don't know."  Pandita shrugged and reached for the washcloth so that she could spread soap over her skin as the conditioner drained out of her hair.  "It's just not the same.  You don't tell me stories anymore.  You don't play with my hair and put makeup on me.  And Daddy's never home and Mum just sits around looking scared all the time."

Parvati bit her lip and counted to ten while she sluiced Pandita's hair with water, trying to formulate an appropriate response.  Truth was, her little sister was at least partially right.  Their father was never home, and Mum – she wasn't sure what was going on with Mum, Mum who had always been the dominant and vibrant one when they were kids.  It was Mum who bought them their first toy wands and broomsticks, and Mum who played magical tricks like turning all their father's hair blond in the middle of the night, and Mum who …

"She looks scared," Pandita repeated seriously, sounding very much like Padma as she turned big brown eyes onto her oldest sister.  "How come, Parvati?"

"I don't know, Pandita."  Parvati finished rinsing the little girl's hair.  "Finish your bath and then we'll get you ready for bed, okay?"

Pandita heaved a sigh, which also made her sound much older than ten-going-on-eleven.  Parvati sensed that her sister was sighing not at the prospect of such an early bedtime, but rather her inability to come up with a good reason that Mum was scared, but Parvati didn't have any reason, good or not.  "I'll leave you alone to wash, okay?"

Outside the bathroom Parvati brushed some of the water off what used to be a good dress robe and rubbed her forehead with a damp hand.  The truth was, she had as many questions as her little sister.  Like where Dad was.  Why did Mum refuse to leave the house?  And where was Padma, and was she ever going to see her again?  Part of Parvati was certainly proud of her twin sister, moving off bravely to use all her skills and talents to fight this war, but the other part wavered between being worried and jealous.  She had no idea where Padma was, or what she was doing, or if she was even alive, in Hogsmeade or Albania or Merlin knows where.  That worried her.  Parvati also knew that was doing absolutely nothing to contribute to this war, while Padma ran around killing Death Eaters and Dean was traveling through Africa and South America, quietly rounding up troops of international witches and wizards for their side.  Even Lavender was busy, helping Madam Pomfrey as she moved from town to town, caring for the wounded, the damaged, the dead.  Lavender was certainly a lot more help than she was, Parvati thought morosely.

The door shuddered against Parvati's back, and Pandita called out, "Parvati!  I'm done!  Open the door and let me out."

"That was fast."  Parvati opened the door and studied her little sister, whose quivering body was wrapped snugly into a wide blue towel with the Ravenclaw crest on it.  "Are you sure you washed good everywhere?"

"Yeah."

"Your back and neck too?"

"Yeah."

"And behind your ears?"

Pandita giggled, sounding more like a ten-year-old for the first time all night.  "Parvati, don't be silly.  Only in books people have to wash behind their ears."

"What kind of books have you been reading?"  Parvati shooed her sister into her bedroom and closed the door, checking out of habit to make sure that all the windows were locked and the glass reinforced with Unbreakable spells.  Mum had insisted, and Parvati hadn't asked why.

"I don't know.  Something about a Muggle boy named Almanzo.  I found it on Mum's bookshelf."  Pandita rooted through the pile of blankets and sheets and pillows and stuffed animals that she liked to think of as her bed and unearthed a pair of rumpled pink cotton pajamas.  "Will you read me some of it?"

"I didn't know Mum had Muggle books."

"Yeah, some.  They're really old, though.  I don't think she got 'em from Flourish and Blotts."  Pandita plowed a path through the piles of cloth, making a small nest for herself and a larger one for her sister.  "Parvati, if I ever get to go to Hogwarts, will I go buy my books at Flourish and Blotts?"

"Yep.  Just the schoolbooks, though.  You can bring your own books from home."

"Is there a library?"

"Yep."  Parvati scratched the top of her little sister's head, like a kitten.  "If you ever go to Hogwarts, what house do you think you'll be in?"

Pandita considered, sucking the end of her finger in her mouth while she fumbled under the covers for her book.  "I don't know.  Maybe in Ravenclaw.  I like to read.  Am I smart, Parvati?"

"I think you're very smart."

"Am I as smart as Padma?"

"Well, maybe not.  But we're five years older than you, Pandi, so we've learned a lot more.  That doesn't mean Padma's smarter."

"Will I be as pretty as you?"

Parvati watched her little sister for a moment, but the dark brown eyes were serious.  Touched, Parvati gave her a hug.  "I think you're going to be much, much prettier when you grow up."

"I want to grow up now."  Pandita gave her a mournful stare.  "Do you think I'll make a best friend at Hogwarts?"

"I thought you were best friends with Gillian Dobbs."

"But what if we're not in the same house?"

"Then you might make a best friend in the same house."

"Is that how come you're best friends with Lavender and not Pansy Parkinson anymore?"

Parvati sighed.  "Where'd you get an idea like that?"  She moved to give Pandita another patronizing pat on the head, but the younger girl clearly had no desire to be petted like a puppy, and she moved out of Parvati's arm-reach, making a face.  "I'm not friends with Pansy Parkinson anymore because – well, we just do different things now.  Part of it might be that we're in different houses, but even before we left for Hogwarts and got Sorted, we weren't talking much."

"Oh."  Pandita flipped through the pages of the book so that it made a whirring sound between her fingers.  "Is it 'cause she's a Death Eater now?"

Her sister sighed again.  "Pandi, no one knows who's a Death Eater and who's not.  It's not fair to make accusations like that.  All we can do now is try to help people – "

"Just like Padma's doing.  I should be so proud of Padma.  I should think about other people and not just myself.  I know, I know."  It was Pandita's turn to sigh deeply.  "Mum keeps telling me that I need to always be careful.  But I don't know what I'm s'posed to be careful of."

"You need to be careful of everything these days, Pandi."  Parvati managed a quick pat on the little girl's bony, winglike shoulder before she shrugged away, looking as prickly as a teenager.  "Now, do you want to read with me?"

"No.  I wanna talk."

"Well, what do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know."  Pandita shoved her finger back in her mouth and shrugged.

"Well, if you don't know, then how am I supposed to know what you want to talk about?"  Parvati jerked the book from her sister's hands and lifted her wand, grumbling "Priori pagina" in a less-than-pleased voice, so that the soft-covered yellow book flipped open to the correct place.  "Chapter 7:  Saturday Night."  She began reading about milkpails and fried doughnuts in the home of a long-ago Muggle boy, and as her voice spun out stories of smashed icicles and bathwater in a wooden tub, it softened until it wrapped both herself and her little sister in a blanket of comfort.  When she finished the chapter she gave Pandita a spontaneous hug.  "Come on, let's give you a makeover."

"A makeover?"

"Yeah.  You know, the thing that I used to do with you on Saturdays?"

"But it's my bedtime," Pandita reminded her sister uncertainly.  "And Mum'll be in a row."

"Pandita!"  Parvati gave the little girl a good-natured shove.  "You've never worried about your bedtime before!"  Sometimes, she reflected as she slid off the bed and used Accio to bring a makeup kit, three hairbrushes, a comb, and twenty-seven bobby pins onto the bed, Pandita was a lot more like Padma than she wanted to be.  Their little sister had always followed Parvati around the neighborhood, tagging after her and Pansy and Lisa Turpin, but there was a lot of Parvati's twin in her, too.

"What are you going to do to my hair?" Pandita asked excitedly, wriggling around like a rubber cauldron so that Parvati could capture the swish of her long black hair in her slim hands.

"Well, nothing just yet.  It's still too damp."  Parvati gave her sister's head a pat and mentally flicked through her internal Wand-Holder's Guide to Creative Cosmetics, trying to decide if she needed to use a hair-drying spell.  She had mastered Therma capillus just after her twelfth birthday, an accomplishment that Padma joked about for weeks.  Of course, Padma had received a trilogy of Muggle plays by some old dead guy named Sophocles that year, which she seemed to think was much more distinguished reading, and Parvati teased her right back about getting entertainment from the story of some guy having an Edison complex ("It's Oedipal, Parvati, you see") – that seemed like so long ago.  An entire lifetime.

Pandita turned around and gave her sister a serious, questioning look with her deep-set, almond-shaped eyes, and Parvati was struck by how much she had grown up ever since the days when she and Gillian followed her around like a rogue Bludger.  Maybe that was an entire lifetime ago.

"I'm going to do your makeup first," Parvati decided, undoing the metal clip on the cosmetic box.  "Do you want to look really, really beautiful, or just do it for fun?"

Pandita considered for a moment.  "Something nice," she said at last.  "No Gryffindor-red butterflies this time, okay, Parvati?  Maybe we can take a picture and send it to Padma."

"Maybe."  Parvati pulled out a container of foundation, decided that she didn't quite like the colour for Pandita's flawlessly olive-and-cream complexion, and poked the container with her wand to dilute it slightly.  She decided not to remind Pandita that not only did they not have any idea where Padma was, but that she was unowlable as well.  If they needed to get a desperate message to her, they could always contact Dumbledore, but somehow she didn't think that Makeover Night #359 in the Patil house qualified as desperate.  "Mm.  This is a good colour on you, Pandi.  You're going to have really pretty skin when you're a teenager."

"Do I have ugly skin now?" Pandita asked anxiously.

"No.  I mean, I think yours is going to stay that way.  You're lucky."  Parvati finished smoothing the foundation over Pandita's face.  "Close your eyes.  I'm going to spread it."  Pandita squeezed them shut, looking like she expected to sneeze at any moment, and Parvati poked her nose with her wand.  "Pando facie.  Oh, that looks good, Pandita.  That spell was made for you."  She considered colours of blush.  "Are you sad that you don't get to go to Hogwarts?"

"Mm hm."  Pandita tried to speak without moving her lips, even though Parvati was just working on her cheekbones, which were so much more well-defined than Parvati's.  "I wish this war wasn't right now."

"Me too."  Parvati reached for a quill that had a blood-red substance running through the vein and began to outline her sister's lips.  "I wish I could do something to help."

"Like Padma?"

Parvati shook her head.  "Don't talk.  You just made me mess up.  Deleo coloris."  She gave the quill a quick shake, then returned to tracing the full mouth.  "Yes, like Padma.  She's doing important things out there and I'm stuck at – I mean, I'm not," she amended hastily.  She certainly didn't want Pandita to think that she didn't enjoy being with her.  "It's hard to be the Ravenclaw Prefect's twin sister, you know?"

"But you're not in the same house," Pandita reminded her, then smushed her lips together quickly to stop herself from talking.

As if Parvati could forget.  She nodded and picked up a smaller eyelining quill.  "True.  Still, it's …"  She shrugged, unable to put it into words that her little sister would understand.

"Padma's really smart," Pandita said unexpectedly, sounding very much like she did understand.  "Sometimes I wish she wasn't my sister."

"What do you mean?"  Parvati put her hand on the top of Pandita's head and held it level.  "Close your eyes while you talk."

"I mean."  Pandita struggled to formulate thoughts without fluttering her eyelids.  "Sometimes, you know, in school and stuff, everyone talks about how smart she is, and I should be too.  I mean, I like her.  She's my sister.  But I don't want to be like her."

"Open your eyes.  Let me see."  Parvati checked the lines of deep mocha that she had drawn above the roots of her sister's eyelashes and nodded critically.  "Yeah, I know what you mean, Pandi.  I'm glad we're in different houses at Hogwarts.  Even though I'm not sure why."

"Whaddayou mean?"

"Well, I know why Padma's in Ravenclaw.  She's smart, she likes to be right and do the right thing.  That's why she's an Auror now."  Parvati chose a deep cream-coloured eyeshadow and added a few sparks of brown from the end of her wand.  "I don't know why I'm in Gryffindor."

"'Cause you're brave," Pandita replied matter-of-factly, sounding surprised that her respected older sister should have to ask.

"Not like Padma."  Parvati drew a tube of garnet lipstick across Pandita's mouth, leaving a dusting of small bloody stars on those little-girl lips.  "No one's brave like Padma."

Pandita shrugged, unconcerned, and turned back around to present her now-dry hair to her sister.  "Maybe you'll find out soon."

Parvati just nodded, knowing that Pandita couldn't see her, and wound a thick rope of silky black strands around her wrist, wondering when her baby sister grew up.