Hi. Story just came to me… the title might change. Please review if you like it. It's only an introduction now so don't judge it too harshly yet!
You can't win a war. If I'd learned anything, it was that. Sure, one side gets defeated and the other doesn't but this whole 'reigning victorious' bullshit was just that.
It's the casualties that causes everyone to lose. Good and evil, right and wrong? None of it really matters if you've lost someone close to you. Does it still count as murder if an Auror kills a Death Eater? Most think not. But what if that Death Eater had a family? A spouse, children? You've taken part of their world from them and yet it's still not considered a mournful loss? It's maddening.
These were the dark thoughts that filled my mind as I watched the overcast country-side whip past me. Was it a little morbid and philosophical for an eighteen-year-old to be having these thoughts as she returned to Hogwarts for her seventh and final year? Yes. Did I care? No.
Another chorus of giggling followed by a stampede of footsteps echoed from outside my cabin. Had it always been like this? I tried to scour my memory, I'd only taken a year off for Merlin's sake! The emptiness of my cabin clued me in though. Not that I usually sat with a group of friends on the Hogwarts Express trip.
I didn't have any friends.
No, it was the fact that I could have a cabin to myself. Usually I sat in the rejects cabin, a combination of shy first years and unsociable siblings who'd all ignore each other and cause the trip to be utterly silent. Furthermore the giggling was a result of younger students running rampage through the carriages without the snide remarks of their superiors telling them to shut up and calm down.
Meaning most of my year were already inside the castle walls.
After the final battle I'd heard the castle was almost completely destroyed. Though I luckily hadn't been there seemingly the scars of battle were etched into every wall and suit of armour within the mighty school of witchcraft and wizardry. An owl was sent to all the families with older students asking for volunteers to restore and rebuild it back to its former glory. I assumed well over half of my classmates had spent most of the summer there helping.
I would have gone, but I'd had my own mess to clean not to mention a funeral to attend.
I sighed deeply again, trying to break the silence in my small haven. It was causing my mind to wander too near to memories I didn't want to relive. I did enough of that when I slept.
Deciding that my legs were stiff I stood, sliding open the cabin door and stepping into the narrow corridor narrowly missing a group of soon-to-be first years. Glancing up to me a spark of fear flashed in their eyes before hastily muttered apologies and nervous shuffling filled my ears. I almost felt like smiling. They'd learn soon enough that there was no need for it.
Keeping my eyes down I made my way towards the nearest lavatory, allowing the mass of brown curls to cover my face. Others past me on route but didn't spare me a second glance. This was my comfort zone. It had taken six years but I'd finally mastered the art of not being noticed, the ultimate chameleon. Hiding in plain sight was what I did best.
When I finally reached my destination I quickly backed up and leaned against the wall, slipping unnoticed into the short queue behind two girls. They were older students but not quite a seventh year. Maybe fifth or sixth. The cobalt raven crest flashed like beacons against their dark robes.
I'd lie if I said I tried not to listen to their conversation. But you'll soon find its quite boring being me without eaves dropping.
"I heard at least a third of the student body is gone," the girl with dark hair spoke and although she was facing me her gaze never left her friend. "Either too afraid to return after the battle, still in Saint Mungo's or…" dead. She really didn't have to finish that sentence.
"Things will go back to normal," the other girl soothed. "I mean most of the seventh years from last year have returned to repeat so numbers will be high enough. It'll be awful for the first few weeks but people slip back into every-day life surprisingly quickly." I couldn't help but agree with the Ravenclaw. The only people who will really find it hard are the sixth and seventh years who'd suffered the war first hand. The younger students didn't know any better, or never really got close enough to see what really happened around them.
"One thing's for certain…" the first girl had lowered her voice that I had to concentrate to pick it up. "Slytherin are going to be pitiful in their numbers."
"I guess…" the second girl sounded uneasy.
"What are you talking about? About ninety percent of the bastards had family members that held the Dark Mark. Would you dare show your face if your parents had murdered other people's loved ones and were now locked in Azkaban for the rest of their lives?"
The second the 's' word was mentioned I'd gone rigid, not a good idea considering as I was pretending to not be listening to their conversation. Usually I was more controlled than this. That was why it shocked me almost as much as it shocked the two girls when words started flowing from my mouth.
"People don't give birth to exact replicas of themselves." The spun to stare at me and I wanted to cringe. My voice felt too loud in the small corridor but the words kept coming, I seemed to be suddenly powerless to stop them. "Not all teenagers follow in their parents' footsteps and even the ones that perhaps wanted to now know better. Now all they can hope for is to get through this year, sit the N.E.W.T.S. and pray that bigoted folks just like yourselves don't get in the way of their future due to another person's life choices."
The pair stared at me, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. I knew they'd recognised me a little. I wasn't that inconspicuous but no doubt they'd ever heard me speak. Hell, I don't anyone had heard me speak that many words at one time.
Luckily the lavatory door opened and seeing as the girls in front of me were making no move to break their gaze from me I slipped past them and into the magically enlarged cubicle.
Taking a deep breath and rubbing my temples I tried to rationalised what happened. I didn't do that. I was the chameleon the wall flower. The person you easily glossed over when scanning a room. That was my comfort zone.
Yet…
I couldn't ignore the energy flushing through me. The spark of heat in my cheeks and almost tingle to my fingertips. Glancing in the mirror I couldn't help but notice a sudden brightness my hazel eyes had taken. Running my fingers through my hair I tried to decipher what I felt.
I'd enjoyed speaking up against those prejudices. Detaching myself from the wall and being seen and heard by other people. Before, I'd have kept my mouth shut and was comfortable with unvoiced opinions. But I hadn't even been uncomfortable with the situation!
When the war ended I'd gained something I'd never had and without noticing my insides were taking it and running wild. I stared at my reflection, brown ringlets surrounding a heart shaped face, expressive hazel eyes with dark brows and lashes, a small freckled nose and rose-bud lips.
"More than survive," I whispered into the mirror, watching as determination spread over my features, making them almost look alien to me. "Live"
Before turning my heel I adjusted my robes; the green and sliver serpent nestled brightly. Its crest against my heart.