The first week of fith year went like this. We had the entire week off, until the time our name got called up and we had to go meet with our head of house. I was one of the last students to get called in.
In front of me Professor Longbottom was sitting in his chair and staring at me. I was expected to have thought of what I wanted to become and be able to present it to him. But all I could think of as I sat in that chair, in front of his desk, was how nothing had changed. How during the summer break all I had been able to do was watch. All I could do was watch when my best friend got laughed at by my brother because of his lack of magic. Because he was a muggle. My big brother beat him up so many times this summer. He said something about how filthy muggles shouldn't look at his sister like he thought Tristan looked at me. And all I could do was stay with him until it was over, and pick up the pieces when my brother left. I was weak. And I hated it. I had hated it then and I hated it even more now that I had had the time to think it out. Weakness was something I didn't want to have.
Before I actually developed a mind of my own, I used to want to become a healer. I thought the tranquility of the task would leave me content and peaceful. I thought that helping people, saving people, would make me happy. I could save peoples lives with my own bare hands. It was also expected of me as a woman in my family. Women weren't supposed to do the hard work. We are only matters of comfort for the men and we are only to help them with their relaxation after their tedious jobs. That's what I've been told during my childhood.
"You are to do exactly as your father and your brother say, you hear me little girl? And then when you get old enough, the same will apply to your husband!"
"Yes, mother!" I replied happily.
But then, when I met Tristan during summer break after second year, I started thinking. I actually started thinking of my own accords. Tristan showed me a life outside magic and men. Of course, at first I was very hesistant what with him being a boy and all. But he proved to me that not everyone thought the way my family did. I didn't even think of the fact that he was muggle. His honesty and bravery made me fall in love with him.
But when I introduced him to my parents and my brother they frowned. Jason, my brother, came up to me and said in the most broken voice.
"Why? Why would you shame us, your family, so much?"
And I didn't understand. I didn't know how my mother, my father and most of all how my beloved brother could hate someone whom I loved so dearly. They didn't see the love I had for him. They only saw his lack of magic.
When my brother hit him that day, I lost my mind. I jumped on him and pulled at his arms. "Stop it!" I screamed. Over and over again. But Jason didn't want to stop. He kept on hitting him 'til Tristan was all bloody. When he was done with him he came up to me. When his beating was finished I crawled my way over to Tristan. Even in his bloodied state and broken demeanor he managed to hug me.
"We'll get through this together." He said.
So now sitting infront of Proffesor Longbottom, all I can think of is how I want to protect people not save them. I want to protect all people. Muggles, wizards and witches alike.
"I want to become a Hit Witch!"
