For Ophelia Skinner. I owe you one, because this idea was born of the review that you left me. Thanks for the support, and this is the Harry Potter story that has been singing at the tops of its lungs at me to write.
This takes place on the eve of the Battle for Hogwarts.
Disclaimer: No. Alia, yes. I love her to death.
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(the beast yearns)
The wait was the hardest thing she'd ever done. Sitting there, at the smooth, wooden table that was so sorrowfully empty of any soul but hers, her heart felt like a void had opened up, ripping a tear between the reality and what was inside. She was the only one who had stayed loyal, the only child of a Death Eater remaining at the Slytherin table with her wand gripped in one trembling hand, her small vial of Felix Felicis in the other. The stares she drew, the looks that were darted in her direction sneakily, as if in the hopes that they hadn't been seen; that she could deal with. What she couldn't deal with was the fact that when their loyalty had been challenged, the whole of Slytherin had strode from the hall, their noses upturned at even the slightest thought that they would join the ranks of Hogwarts and prove themselves. They had done exactly as the rest of the school had known; dashed straight to Voldemort with the swiftness of an arrow. Except her.
The voices of the other houses rose and fell around her, but their voices were nothing but echoes of a memory, of a feast before the terror, before the evil. The undisturbed pool that had existed long before the madness had since been rippling with the remnant of Lord Voldemort's power, of his hatred. Tonight was the last night. They had until midnight to bring him Harry Potter, and if they did not do as he requested, the battle would begin. People would be destroyed, families torn to shreds because of the selfish desires he kept locked tight in his heart, some of which were only just coming to light.
The hatred beat inside of her with a dull ache, drawing all her attention. It sucked in one breath after another, rearing its ugly head to sniff at the air with what could only be called hope. Soon, soon, it would have its fill.
She did not want to feed the beast.
The creature would only grow hungrier with every waking moment, each moment that she fended it off its power over her would grow, gnawing at the beams that held up her sanity. It would expand out from the center, filling every single crack of Alia Selwyn, until every single shard of her soul had been swallowed into its maw, right down to the filthy beast's endlessly hungry stomach. Not a pleasant thought.
Kingsley Shacklebolt was the only one whose voice broke into her thoughts, being calm and collected despite the situation. "All right, leaders up here and we'll divide up the troops!" Alia stood up; glancing down the empty rows of what had once been the most proud of houses, the most pure of them all.
Purity has nothing to do with it, Alia thought, much disgusted at the notion that one person could have purer blood than another. It was all red, for God's sake!
She walked silently down the aisle. The Great Hall fell silent as their gazes turned on her, some curious, some so angry that they stabbed deep into her back. In the marble floor she could see her reflection gazing fluidly back at her, the very model of confidence and courage. I am here to protect that which I love, just as much as any of them. She could do this. I belong too.
The aisle ended. She would have to pass in front of all the other houses to step up on the dais, to get to where Professor McGonagall was waving her wand around, the defensive spells issuing from the tip. A deep, steady breath found its way into her lungs, and she was off, her sneakers practically soundless against the marble. But every head turned, a thousand pairs of eyes on her. The whispers erupted as Alia raised her head high. The Felix warmed in her hand, strength surging down from the lucky potion in the vial as though it were a living thing. As she knew it was.
Alia Selewyn was the last defender. The last Slytherin.
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Please R&R.
