I know I've got other stories I should be working on, but if I'm being perfectly honest, I've lost interest in them for now. I've lost interest in a lot of things after losing my brother six months ago, but this is one thing I actually have felt like writing lately, so I think maybe it's time to post it. This idea has been rolling around in my head for a couple of years, and it's just now become so fleshed out and so in depth that I feel like it would be a shame not to write it. There's actually another story idea I have that would run concurrently to it that I may or may not write as well.
I'd love to hear what you guys think about this. And as of now, I have no beta for it, so if you see any errors or have questions, don't hesitate to let me know!
As always, thanks for reading.
My stomach knotted painfully as I took one last look at the place that I had always called home. It was dark and shadowed, only the full moon leaking in the window lending light to the startlingly common home. Average sized living room, with an average –but very comfortable- living room set, newly remodeled kitchen, in the latest fashion of course. There was nothing exceedingly uncommon in this house, except for me.
I'd always wondered how on earth I came out of a family so ordinary. It never truly made sense. But right here, in this room, I'd received my letter seven years ago. It had been delivered by an owl, of all things, telling me that I had been invited to attend the New Orleans Academy of Magical Arts.
Suddenly, all of the strange things that I had accidentally done as a child seemed exponentially stranger.
My mother had agreed to let me attend on the condition that I still studied the basics of what she called "normal" schooling. In exchange for going to a boarding school that by all accounts of normality should not exist, I was expected to study English and math and science. Most of it was used as a light reading during school, but I'd also been forced to attend muggle summer school, and my mother had often quizzed and tutored me at the old kitchen table that we'd had as long as I could remember. So rigorously had she made me study, in fact, that in some places on the table my pen had actually managed to engrave my notes into the wood. It had become an engrained part of my childhood.
Yet now… I would no longer see that kitchen table. At least not for a very long while.
And even then, it would only happen if by some miracle my family forgave me.
I bit my lip in an attempt to keep my tears at bay and my courage built up. I couldn't be a coward now. Everything was in order, and I was leaving tonight. I had to leave, I couldn't let Estelle go on her own. I couldn't let this war reach home.
I sat the piece of parchment on the coffee table, my hands quaking as I did so. I was terrified, not so much at the thought of what I would be facing, but rather because I may never see my parents again. My parents, who loved me so much, who accepted me even though I was not normal, not even for a witch. My parents that brought me into this world and taught me and supported me.
My parents, who had already lost one child in the last year, who were losing another without any warning.
My parents who could very soon be in danger if the problems in Europe crossed the Atlantic.
That was why I was doing this. This is why I was going to fight. No person, witch, wizard, or muggle, pure blood, half blood, or muggle born, should fear for their lives. This prick that was trying to take control of the British Ministry needed to be stopped. And I would not sit back and wait till he was.
They would forgive for what I had done, in time. They'd have to. They didn't care what the magical community thought of them, not really. I had to protect them, I had to avenge Gavin, I had to go to emancipate myself so I could go fight in Europe.
And to do that, I'd had to lie. I'd had to say that my parents were incapable of caring for a magical person. That I would be better off taking care of myself, now considered an adult in the magical world at seventeen years old.
I'd had to do it.
I slung my bag over my shoulder, thankful that I had mastered an undetectable extension charm my fifth year. In a quaking voice, I said a quick prayer for my family. I knew that Estelle's family would watch over them, they had become great friends because of Estelle and I, despite the fact that her family was purebloods. Despite what I had told the Ministry, what I had made them believe about my family, Estelle's family knew the truth. They were, after all, the ones helping me get to Europe, and I know they wouldn't leave my parents out to face any magical danger alone.
"Goddess protect them, and let them know how much I love them," I whispered, allowing a lone tear to leave my eyes before walking out of my front door for what could very well be the last time.
No, I couldn't think like that. I'd be back here, hopefully even sooner than I thought. I'd be able to come back to my family and tell them they were safe… that I'm safe. We'd rejoice and be happy. Things would work out, this would have a happy ending.
"Is there a reason you decided to dress up like we're going out to dinner?"
The cynical voice that met my ears had strength in it that right now I longed for. It was rare that I felt weak willed, but right now I was only hanging on by a thread. It was taking everything in me not to run back to my bedroom and hide under the blankets, but I'd never be able to live with myself if I did. I was doing the right thing here, I knew it. It was just hard to swallow.
"We're running away, not going on a date, you loser."
"I just wanted to look professional," I sighed, giving my best friend a defeated look. She grinned up at me, trying to cheer me up. She must have seen how upset and scared I would be earlier. It wouldn't be the first time she knew something before I did, it was one of her quirkier qualities.
I remember the first day at the Academy, when us first years were waiting in the courtyard to be assigned to dorms, this little dark haired fairy looking child –I say child, but we were both the same age- came walking up to me, announcing that her name was Estelle, mine was Morgan, we were going to be best friends, and I was going to trip into the pool on Friday. All of which were unsettlingly true.
"Like Uncle Alastor is going to give a shit if you look professional. You just wanted to look cute," she scoffed without looking at me. Instead she was digging around in her bag with a puzzled look on her face. "Won't matter anyway, the only men we'll be around are middle aged and usually married. Why couldn't I have seen where I put the damn port key earlier? A whole lot more useful than seeing you scramble around for clean underwear while packing."
"It was laundry day," I groaned in response. It wasn't my fault she'd seen that. She usually didn't see menial things anymore, in the years that we'd been friends she'd become quite good at controlling her gift. She could call on visions, and usually keep useless ones out. "Why were you looking in on me anyway?"
"Wanted to make sure you were okay," she shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. I could see the concern on her face though. She'd probably got a peek at how tormented I'd felt earlier. Or maybe she had seen something else? There was no telling with her. "Ah-ha! Got it!"
"A pill bottle?" I asked as she held the port key up triumphantly. "Not what I'd expect."
"Which is exactly why Moody used it," she countered. Her eyes washed white for a few seconds without warning and I froze, watching her. Her visions usually didn't last long, but I still liked to keep an eye on her. Occasionally she'd get a long one, or even a violent one, and I had to step in to make sure she didn't hurt herself or someone else. As suddenly as it came up, it was over, and she was snickering.
"See anything important?" I questioned, pulling us off the road and into the small wooded area across the street from my house.
"Nah. Just stuff. You ready to go?" she asked, holding out the pill bottle. I couldn't speak to tell her I was because my mouth had suddenly become incredibly dry. Here we go, no going back. I reached out and touched the pill bottle, trying to hide my trembling. Estelle gave me a reassuring smile before tapping her wand to the lid of the bottle, sending us into the gut-wrenching spiral that always came with a port key.