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The sound of cutlery clattering to the floor, a horribly distinctive sound, woke me from my slumber. The unnatural sound, for my relatives were very precise and clinical in their movements, unnerved me, overtaking the irritation of being woken. Whoever was downstairs wasn't the Dursley's, that much was clear. Reacting to the situation was easy, I'd simply go downstairs and improvise. Improvisation has always been a strong suit of mine, I've never been one to plan ahead. Perhaps that's why I'm bad at chess: I can react to the moves sent my way, but can't feel the noose tightening around my neck as my opponent draws me into checkmate. I slipped out of bed, dropping to the floor with only the slightest sound, muffled by the carpet. Pulling my wand out from underneath my pillow, I crept over to the door, dodging my cousin's broken toys on my way. I learned my lesson the hard way about avoiding them, I'd stubbed my toe on them multiple times before I mapped out their position in my head. I didn't want to just put them away, an angry Dudley was best avoided wherever possible. He may have started not hitting me because "I was a girl" a few years back, but to compensate, he had become adept at the art of snitching. Adept, not something you ever would normally associate with Dudley, but given that my Aunt and Uncle hate my magically marinated innards, snitching quickly became 'I'm bored, let's make something up to get my freak of a cousin in trouble'.
Crouching at the top of the landing I assessed my options. Several shadowy figures stood in the kitchen, slightly darker than the inherent lack of light that surrounded them. Not wanting to just attack, I decided to see if they were friendly or not. Shooting green bolts of death upon seeing me would give me a strong indication of who they were working for. I was fairly confident I could escape them if they were evil, dodging and running away hadn't failed me yet. Maybe that was just bravado talking, though.
Don't think about the graveyard.
I swiftly made my way over to the doorframe, using the wall as cover. I decided I would turn on the lights, it would surprise them and give me a slight advantage time-wise. Of course, I didn't realise that turning the light on after a long period in darkness would be detrimental to my eyesight. I screwed my eyes up in pain, let out a rather unladylike shriek and fumbled for the switch. I saw tiny green and red dots dance in front of my eyes and heard a sharp intake of breath. The curses hadn't started flying yet, so the people in the kitchen were probably not enemies. I hoped. I really hoped. I opened my eyes to see the soft glow of wandlight, much more forgiving on the eyes, and the smiling visage of my favourite ex-professor from Hogwarts. Remus Lupin, an old friend of my parents. Not that it was very hard to come first in the Best-Teacher-Ever competition. After all, two were servants of Voldemort, and one was Lockhart. Lupin moved with feline like grace, however- or should I say wolf-like?- so he most likely wasn't the one to knock the cutlery on the floor. That particular feat of clumsiness was awarded to a furiously blushing woman, who was frantically stuffing the knives and forks back into their respective places. I was both impressed and amused to see her vivid pink hair. If only I had the guts to do that. Unfortunately my forehead drew enough attention without giving it a vibrantly coloured backdrop. I raised an eyebrow at Lupin, causing him to grin. I gave him a quick hug, glad to see him again. We had grown close over his time as the defence against the dark arts teacher: we would often talk about my parents, and sometimes he would teach me an interesting spell or two. He pulled back, and grabbed my face in his hands, inspecting it closely for signs of negativity. It was a uniquely parental action, and I glowed with happiness because of it. The summer had been...hard. As little as I wanted to let on, to them, or myself.
"Why are you here?" I asked, shifting my eyes between the clumsy woman and Lupin. Ignoring my question at first, Lupin introduced the pink haired lady as Tonks- just Tonks- and then answered, preceding to tell me that I was being moved to a safe-house for my own protection. I was also told that several other friends of Dumbledore were waiting outside to escort me to the safe-house. Due to the unexpected arrival of Lupin and company, I was under packed, which is to say, everything was strewn around my room. I'd never really cared much for tidiness. Lupin said I got that from my dad, he claimed that their dormitory looked like the set of a war film. Tonks kindly offered to help me pack. Remembering the state of my room, I quickly accepted.
In the harsh electric light of my bedroom, I got my first good look at Tonks. She was about a head taller than me, which didn't say much as I was shorter than most of my peers. Our hair was about the same lengthwise, with mine pulled into a long fringe instead of her mess of spikes, and colour-wise it couldn't be more different, my jet black hair a far cry from her explosion of colour. She wore a white top with a leather jacket over the top, and complimented the punk image with some heavy combat boots. I had to admit, the style worked. We chatted idly as she whipped her wand around my room, causing clothes to fly haphazardly into my school trunk. It wasn't long before a tentative friendship was formed, although I had the feeling it was easier for her than it was for me. Growing up with the Dursley's had given me an uncomfortable tendency to shrink into myself when meeting new people, a habit that fortunately hadn't manifested itself too much because of the surprising events that had unfolded during the early hours. Tonks seemed naturally sociable, making it easy to talk to her. I felt that with a little work, the friendship could blossom, although it was too early to make an accurate prediction. Too early too in that it was also ridiculous o'clock.
Packing completed, we headed downstairs, ready to make the long, cold, wet journey to the safe-house. Although we would be flying on brooms, frankly I wasn't looking forward to fighting against the elements, especially not at two in the morning. It sucked the fun out of flying. I grimaced at the light layer of frost already covering the broom handle. It didn't reassure me in the slightest about the potential comfort, or rather lack of comfort, that the following journey would entail.
I set my eyes upon the strange group of allies I would be travelling with. The differences among them were vast: in direct contrast to Lupin's raggedy overcoat and shabby suit, Diggle (a man I'd had the misfortune of meeting a few times in my childhood) wore a top hat, tails and a monocle. The man was a sycophant, sucking up to the rich and powerful. I strongly disliked him to say the least. Heights ranged from Professor Flitwick's tiny stature to Mad Eye Moody's imposing figure. But then, despite all their differences, they all possessed the same fire in their eyes, the determination to fight against Voldemort. Even Diggle had it, unwilling as I was to admit it. I was confused though as to why so many great wizards and witches had arrived to escort me. I knew I was a target, but I didn't understand why so much precaution was needed. I was only a schoolchild, just out of my fourth year and my continuing education rested in the hands of a hearing about breaking the restriction on underage magic. Headmaster Dumbledore probably just wanted to make sure I stayed alive, which I was grateful for. We mounted our brooms, and took off into the black night. To keep my mind off the numbing cold seeping into my bones I thought over the events that had lead me to sitting on a freezing broomstick miles above Surrey.
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I was quiet on the way back to Little Whinging, pondering the night of Voldemort's resurrection, especially the death of a student. Cedric had died that night, and I felt guilty for suggesting a joint Hogwarts victory and leading him to the place of his demise. I hardly knew him. His girlfriend Cho Chang and his other friends occupied most of his time, as my friends occupied mine. I hardly spoke to him outside of the Triwizard events. I felt worse for his family though. I only knew the aching pain of never having known my parents, their grief over losing their son, a son they'd known for a mere 17 years, must have been so much worse.
We arrived back at the rather bland Dursley residence, complete with a boring front garden and tasteless garden gnomes. I wished, not for the first time, that the tacky cheerful gnomes would change into their uglier magical counterparts. Suffice to say, they didn't. I stormed up to my room without a word, and the Dursley's left me be. The cycle of sleeping, eating and reading then began, as it did every summer. It repeated for several days until the unnatural heat wave forced me out of my humid room and down to the park. The sleeping hadn't been doing much for me either, I'd been suffering from nightmares.
So there I was, sitting on an old rusty swing as the chill of night began to settle upon me. It was upon seeing the overly bright full moon that my unease began to grow. The howls made the events that were about to unfold more foreseeable. There was only one creature that howled like that, and it wasn't one I particularly wanted to meet again. Werewolves. Swinging once, twice , on the rusty seat I used the momentum to launch myself into a sprint, cringing as the loud squeak of the swing echoed around the deserted park. Not that it would stay deserted for long anymore.
My breaths came quickly and shallowly as I sprinted down the alley. I felt as if I wanted to be sick, and my lungs burned with the fire of anaerobic respiration. I knew that if I stopped, I'd be devoured long before the lactic acid had a chance to cause muscle cramps. Hermione taught me about that, claiming that I should work on my stamina and not just on my speed. Trust such a stupidly scientific thought to come to mind now, still, it was at that point I wished that I had gone along with her idea, just putting one foot in front of the other was torture. It wasn't quite Cruciatus level- I'd had more than enough exposure to that to remember it well- but it was definitely more pain than I needed. I shuddered to think what state I would have been in if my adrenaline hadn't kicked in, allowing me to continue fleeing. I could see the Dursley residence ahead of me, the lights spurring me on to run faster. Just before I reached the wards, a tingling flow of magic that triggered whenever I hit the edge of the property, a clawed, hairy hand gripped my leg and sent me tumbling to the ground. Spying my wand where it had clattered to the ground, I lunged towards it. My hand closed around the handle just before the werewolf yanked me backwards. Twisting painfully onto my back, I looked up to see a gaping maw of bloody teeth. Fighting against the bile that threatened to rise up in my mouth I thrust my wand forward and uttered the first spell I could think of.
"Lumos Maximus!" My wand exploded in a dazzling orb of light, causing the creature to howl in agony and reflexively cover it's eyes. It was the opening I needed. I kicked the beast backwards and sent a banisher it's way too. Of course, I didn't count on the wards. The werewolf, for lack of a better term, shattered like glass. It stood there for a moment, and then dissipated into tiny burning particles until nothing was left. Uncle Vernon stood there, mouth agape at the spectacle he'd just witnessed. I realised later that he may have also been noticing the werewolf's mate sneaking up behind me, enraged at the loss of it's lover. I didn't stand a chance as it pulled me backwards and knocked my wand away from me. I was done for. The werewolf leaned down, ready to sink it's teeth into me and all I could do was whimper in fear. My muscles refused to move, they were as heavy as lead. It was at that point that Vernon Dursley committed an incomprehensible act. He saved my life. I hadn't seen the shotgun in his hand, and neither did the werewolf in it's grief addled rage. I heard the bang though,, obnoxiously loud to my ears. The werewolf was dead before it hit the floor.
I didn't understand why my Uncle had shot the beast. He did after all want to be rid of me. He constantly reminded me of the fact every summer. I thought about the conundrum for days. Perhaps he truly had a modicum of compassion in his heart, or perhaps it was because his favourite gnome, "Bernie" , had been trampled in the werewolves' attack. At that point, at the foot of the tiny gravestone Vernon had made for Bernie, I decided to just pretend it never happened, as Uncle Vernon was doing, and continue on with my life. Not that I had much to be happy about. A mere hour after the attack I received a letter about a hearing trialling my underage magic misuse. I was worried, even though I knew my magic had been used in self defence. On our last meeting, the Minister of Magic had been less than pleased with my decorum. I may have used several vulgarities in my description of his behaviour but he refused to acknowledge that Voldemort had returned., an event I wasn't about to let him hide from the public. He entered quite jovially, and left in an angry rage. Cornelius Fudge, and by extension the Ministry of Magic, wasn't too happy with me or Dumbledore. Being expelled from Hogwarts would be the icing on the cake for Fudge, he would capitalise and use it to further his idea that I was an attention-seeking delusional lunatic. I desperately hoped that everything would work out, hoped that fate would be on my side. It was with those swirling thoughts echoing around in my head that I fell into a deep dreamless sleep, only to be woken by dropped cutlery a few hours later.
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I was startled out of my reverie as we began to descend. I was glad that I had unconsciously followed Tonks the entire way, knowing that I could have easily taken a wrong turn in the dark night sky. I had gotten lost in the memory, unearthing feelings I wished that I hadn't. I pushed them down again, trying to tune out the nagging fear and horror. It worked, for the moment. We landed in a small grassy area close to a residential area. Mad Eye handed me a piece of parchment, and as I read the messy scrawl I witnessed a house come into being. The wonders of magic. I grinned, and headed inside with the others.
We moved quietly down the dark hallway that was lit only by flickering gas lamps. One by one we preceded into a brighter room that spilled light into the shadowy hallway. Tonks gave a rather horrible trolls leg umbrella stand a particularly wide berth as she entered what I discovered to be the kitchen a few moments later. Was she scared of them? I hoped she'd never meet Crabbe or Goyle. Rumor was they were half troll, that their mother was disappointed with her husband and went searching for a more satisfying lover. Thankfully distracting me from my thoughts, I was engulfed in a hug upon walking in by Molly Weasley, my best friend Ron's mum. Like I had with Lupin, I relished the parental tone as she claimed that I was still "too thin" and that I had grown so much taller, even though I hadn't grown at all. I simply smiled back and nodded, reassured by her comforting warmth. She moved to the side and I was surprised to see my Godfather standing in front of me. I was struck speechless, and both of us merely stood and stared for a few seconds.
"Surprise!" He said in a pseudo blasé tone, although it was clouded with happiness and joy.
"Sirius? What are you doing here?" I asked, glad to see him looking healthier than when we had last met just before the summer holidays. Of course, he had looked skeleton-like back then, so I was happy to see some colour in his cheeks and some meat on his bones.
"Dumbledore needed a safe-house, and I offered this place." he replied, and then pointed upstairs. "I believe that there are two teenagers who have been very much looking forward to seeing you waiting on the second floor. How about you go and sate their needs?" I offered a quick nod of thanks to him before I shot out of the door and straight up the stairs like a rocket.
Upon reaching the room in question, I was immediately accosted by Hermione who crushed me into a hug. Disentangling myself from her grip of death, I gave Ron a swift hug too, much less clingy than Hermione's. Ron was just laid-back like that. I explained to them about the werewolf attack, the upcoming hearing and the events after I had awoken to the sound of dropped cutlery. Both of my best friends were understandably shocked. Tiredness swiftly overtook my desire to talk, however, and I left them to go to bed, promising to speak to them after a long sleep. Of course I didn't expect to meet an angry werewolf in my bedroom!
I shrieked and turned to run, not even pausing to question why a werewolf was in my room. My tiredness and trauma was setting in, and I didn't stop to wonder how a werewolf had found the safe-house, considering it was hidden by magic. It lunged at me, and as I stood there quaking in fear, it passed straight through me. Cringing from the cold chill that swept through me at the contact, and sobbing in fear, I gripped my wand tightly and yelled "Ridikilus!", knowing from it's ethereal presence and pungent smell that the creature was a boggart masquerading as a werewolf. With a loud crack the boggart didn't simply dissipate or leave as intended, it changed into something arguably worse. A dementor. Although the sapping effects were diminished, they were still present. Too tired to fight back, I fell unconscious to the sound of my mother's last moments and the newly incorporated, but no less chilling howls of a werewolf.
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A/N: Hey everyone! Here's a funky, cheeky little full rewrite of my first ever fanfiction! I hope you all enjoy it!
Please review! Your support and feedback means everything to me!
I just wanted to return to my roots and see how I'd improved. If you remember the state of the original, well, this is a lot better! Plus I missed getting back to my OTP, Harry/Tonks.
See you next time folks!
-By the Goddess