"Death be not proud, though some have called thee mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not so"
-John Donne
Alice sat in a chair, the wood pressing into her back. Shackles confined her to it, and she glared at her captors, her hair disheveled and long cuts on her cheek bleeding slowly. Hissing at them, she struggled against her bonds.
"Let. Me. Go!" she shouted.
A man with a frock shook his head, delicately holding a crucifix. "There is a demon inside of you, child. Do you wish to remain possessed, a mere devil's plaything?"
Alice groaned, her eyes wide, almost feral. Another man approached her and expertly gagged her, all the while speaking in hushed tones about the dangers of witchcraft. Edwina would love this, Alice thought, avoiding her distress for one moment. Edwina spent most of her time going off about the dangers of muggles—and here she had her proof.
"The Spanish Inquisition has given us authorization," the second man said solemnly. "Shall we start with the holy water?"
The priest nodded, grabbing a small, silver container. Plucking the cap off of it, he flung the water at Alice, with each drop striking her face. She writhed and screamed, desperately struggling against her bonds.
"CUT!" the director called. "That's a wrap on Holmes for the day—I need Sibley and Warren on set eight! We resume in five!"
Alice shrugged off the bonds, removing the gag gently. Her parents rushed over to greet her, going on and on about how brilliant she was, and how certain they were that she'd be made a success in no time. She nodded vaguely, cracking her knuckles and flexing her wrists.
Pretending to be possessed by the devil really made her stiff.
"Oh, darling, we've got to rush off," Edmund frowned. "Publicist—the Daily Mail—I'm sure you understand, dear. We'll catch up with you for dinner."
Alice nodded, and in a whirlwind, her parents left. Letting out a sigh of relief, she ventured towards the trailer, glad for the comfort and the solitude. Each time she closed her eyes, the corpse of Ginny Weasley came into her mind. She recalled Dumbledore rushing in and destroying the diary. She recalled McGonagall's fear stricken face as she stared at the Weasley girl.
"She could still be alive," Alice mumbled to herself.
She never went to see if Ginny truly was dead. School had ended without any announcement, out of privacy to the family. Alice was glad to not know. Ginny became Schrodinger's corpse—simultaneously alive and dead. If her mother had her way and she attended Ilvermorny in the fall instead, she would never have to drop the pretense. She would never have to know what had become of Ginny Weasley.
Grabbing the smudged handle of the trailer door, it swung open with the slightest bit of resistance, enough to irritate the young actress. The lights were off, but somehow, Alice had a feeling she was not quite along. Perhaps it was the incessant coughing that tipped her off.
"Edwina?" Alice stuttered, her eyes widening in surprise. "Bloody hell! What are you doing here?"
Flicking on the lights, Alice watched as her housemate stood up shakily from the sofa. Drenched entirely in sweat, a faint violet tint illuminated her pale skin, and Edwina smiled softly as she pulled her knit scarf around herself more tightly. Her clothes might as well have been sacks for the way they hanged upon her—it was as if half of Edwina had vanished, leaving behind a sickly creature instead.
"What the hell happened to you?" Alice blurted, taking a slight step back before her friend could respond.
"I have carcinodes…" Edwina said faintly, avoiding looking at Alice in the eye. "Witch's Carcinodes, I mean…"
Alice hadn't the faintest idea what that meant.
"Oh," Alice replied politely. "Well… That sucks."
Edwina raised a slight eyebrow, before shrugging a bit. Huddling more into the warmth of her light emerald cloak, her gaze wondered around the room before settling on the television set.
"I… I came to apologize to you," Edwina explained, as she approached the television and began to fiddle with a VHS tape. Within moments, she had pulled the tape out, staring at it as if it were the most fascinating thing in the universe. Trepidation characterized her more than any other emotion however—as intrigued by the tape as she was, she handled it like it was a snake, waiting to strike.
"What for?" Alice said. "And er… You aren't supposed to pull the tape out—it ruins the film."
"Oh," Edwina muttered, setting the mess down onto the tiny shelf. "Right. I… I'm sorry for the things I said about muggles—I know about your father and… I was wrong."
Alice's mind flickered back to the events of the previous school year, and she flinched. The corpse of Ginny Weasley swam in her mind, accompanied with the death threats and the revolting potion she had to consume to survive. Shuddering a bit, Alice looked away from her friend, facing the wall.
"Do you forgive me, Alice?" Edwina asked quietly. She tugged gently on a piece of her hair and it came out easily, the black strands practically wilting in her grasp.
Alice made no response, continuing to stare at the wall. Vividly, she remembered when Draco appeared to scream at her and berate her for her heritage—she remembered how Edwina advocated for the death of muggles and all related to them—she remembered the cruelty.
"Alice?" Edwina begged, her voice cracking.
"Of course I forgive you," Alice said dryly, still refusing to look at her. "Why wouldn't I?"
Edwina's eyes watered as she broke out into a smile. "Oh, thank Merlin… I was getting worried there, Al."
Alice laughed, turning around to face her friend. "That can't have been the only reason you came here—though… Have you ever been on television, Eddie?"
Edwina shook her head, another piece of hair delicately falling to the ground of the trailer. Alice didn't notice, horrific flashes continuing to burst through her mind in a devilish symphony.
"Would you like to be?" Alice grinned. "We're making a horror film and we have a Q&A with some fans of the comic series it's based off of… You can be on the panel, if you'd like."
Edwina's face twisted into disgust, yet a moment later, she regained her previous benign expression. Almost as if she was forcing this new outlook on life upon herself, Edwina nodded hesitantly, her eyes darting nervously up at the television.
"So… How do we get inside that?"
The comic book panel was not the only one that Alice and Edwina attended that day. By some odd stroke of luck, the two of them attended a press conference regarding the escape of a famous wizarding criminal—Sirius Black.
Edwina's uncle, a high ranking ministry official, had taken the two inside—Alice's parents were off at dinner with some up and coming director named Tim Burton, causing her to be sitting alone with the Fawleys.
"Thank you all for joining us today," Nora Ashworth, a curvy woman with an uncompromising glare said stiffly. Her ebony skin reflected the light beautifully, matching her deep blue uniform, accented with a badge that read: Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
"Ashworth is one of the top aurors we have," Edwina's uncle whispered, leaning over to the two girls. "She'll make department head in a few years, I expect."
Nora continued on, her unusually deep and powerful voice resonating throughout the small, cramped little conference room. For an assembly of wizards, the room was remarkably… mundane. A small water cooler served beverages towards the left, and blinds on the right made it practically impossible for anyone to see in—with the help of a few charms.
"We have reasons to believe that Sirius Black has escaped from Azkaban. All other inmates at this time are accounted for. We have no knowledge of how this happened, and the dementors have no further information for us," Nora paused for a moment, her gaze sweeping around the room.
"Due to the severity of Black's crimes, he is to be regarded as hostile and dangerous. Do not engage with this individual alone—instead, contact magical law enforcement if you spot Black. Otherwise, you may very well end up like Peter Pettigrew—blasted to bits."
People need to stop making a martyr out of him, Alice thought, swinging her heels lightly in her seat. She couldn't help but notice the slight curve of Edwina's lips, or perhaps, the way her uncle leaned forward in expectation. Wizarding crime was no stranger to Alice—the magical drama scene was filled with it. Only a few months ago, a fan set a rabid sphinx on her mother—or perhaps, on her father? She couldn't quite recall.
Violence was rather normal for her.
"Any questions?" Nora asked, her lips pursed. "Please be reminded that any statements given here are on behalf of Magical Law Enforcement and do not reflect any… political… biases."
Instantly, a quivering hand shot up into the air. With a face like a twisted walrus and the eager impatience of a golden retriever, a dotty little witch practically threw herself at Nora, her magenta quill scribbling frantically before a single question was posed.
"Miss, where is Black headed? How can we possibly keep ourselves safe?" the witch asked, her words quick and her breath short. "Daily Prophet," she added as an afterthought.
Nora's lip twitched, and she stared the woman down, practically frightening her into submission. The witch still leaned forward, her quill scratching away, albeit at a slower pace. The entire room came to a pause, waiting with enormous expectation.
"We have reason to believe he is traveling towards Hogwarts," Nora said in a clipped voice. "Exercise reasonable precautions and no harm will come to you."
A man snorted derisively, his curly hair bobbing as he promptly stood up. He opened his mouth, about to add some sort of comment, before shaking his head and leaving the room, his cloak sweeping grandly as he shut the door behind him.
"Sherringford," Nora explained. "Always a charmer… Any more questions? No?"
"Ah, yes, yes, yes!" the same dotty witch from before exclaimed. "How can our children keep themselves safe? Should Hogwarts really be running with a mass murderer on the loose? Do you hate our youth, Miss…?"
Tabloid tactics, Alice scowled. It wasn't the behavior expected from the Prophet—it was more on line with what passed in the Quibbler, a conspiracy paper made by nut jobs for mental cases. She was no stranger to tabloids as well—her mother considered it a good day if only three tabloids made some reference to any member of the family.
"I don't have time to respond to straw-man arguments," Nora frowned sharply. "Any further questions can be taken by our intern—Goldie, you're up."
Nora stalked off the stage, only to be followed by a meek little German girl with brown hair. Her crooked nose made Alice smile wistfully, thinking of the mousy girl she knew at Hogwarts—Marie Nicholas. Alice had a strange feeling that Marie would one day be Head Girl—that is, if she could stop her habit of quoting and stalking all of the teachers. It had become something of a nuisance.
"Right," Goldie chuckled, swallowing nervously. "Any questions…can…be directed at…m-me."
Like a pack of starving sharks, the reporters all pounced on Goldie viciously. Alice shook her head silently, slouching back in her seat, and pretending that she was anywhere else. There was no point for her to listen to the hair brained ideas of some nut jobs—there were better things she could spend her time on! For instance, she had lines to memorize and a decision to make.
Would she be going back to Hogwarts that year?
Alice sipped her tea delicately, sitting at a large ornate table. The various bone china had been set in a haphazard manor, as their hosts couldn't tell the difference between a tea strainer and a whittling chip. Still, that didn't change the orange cream tea with heaps of sugar from being any less delicious.
"Thanks for letting us stay with you," Edmund smiled gratefully, helping to straighten up the tea.
John, Alice's paternal grandfather, merely nodded. An American, he had married Alice's grandmother, Wendy, shortly after he ended his term of service in the Vietnam war. The two had met together while abroad, both being assigned to the same general service area—Wendy served as a nurse, of course. The two of them fell madly in love, settling in England in order to be closer to Wendy's childhood home. Her parents and brother had already died a few years back, found dead on the floor during her time at university. And now, years later, they had settled back in America, preferring the open space and obnoxious politics for a few years.
And despite all of his years living in England, John Holmes still had no clue as to how to set a table for tea. Wendy was out for the day, gossiping with friends at her book club. Alice couldn't help but feel rather disappointed, a strange feeling telling her that seeing her grandmother would be rather beneficial.
"Are you going to… to, what was it, Goatwarts?" John asked, sipping his tea. He coughed a bit at the bitterness of it, before frantically grabbing tea.
"She hasn't decided yet," Dymphna cut in. "We're concerned about safety, ourselves—there was a lot of hazing going on in the previous year."
"And a murderer is heading towards the school," Edmund added with a frown. "It's a dreadful business—really is. I know I'd feel much safer if Ally went to another school for the year—one that understands how to keep students safe."
Alice quietly sipped her tea, allowing the grown-ups to talk for her. She knew that nothing they said would change her mind and that nothing she said would change theirs. For whatever reason, the danger of Hogwarts felt almost irrelevant to her—already, Alice knew she would return to the castle, for one reason or another.
As deadly as it was, it was her home. It wasn't the trailer on a film set and it wasn't a place selected for her—it was a place that she had chosen. No other school in the world could boast that.
"A murderer?" John's eyes shot up. "We wouldn't want anything to happen to Ally—but you know, she can always stay with us, we don't live too far from… the American one."
Dymphna nodded. "I think that's an excellent idea—she can visit you on the weekends, and if anything happens, her grandpa John can blow it to hell."
"Just like in Vietnam," John chuckled, his eyes darkening slightly. Despite all of the cosmetic upkeep and help that Dymphna came in terms of potions, time had gotten to him. Wrinkles were etched into his skin like canyons or canals, breaking up an otherwise smooth surface and forcing texture into it.
"It's settled, then," Edmund smiled. "Alice will stay here and—"
"I'm going to Hogwarts," Alice said stiffly, taking a sip of her tea. "I already decided—I have friends there."
None of the grown-ups heard her. They continued blathering on about whatever they decided suited them at the moment, the conversation ranging from Alice's school choices to the latest tax levied in America. She pouted a bit, getting up from the table, and wandering towards the doorway.
A letter flew in through the flap, landing on the carpet with impeccable timing. Alice grinned, recognizing already the special turn of the emerald ink on the parchment.
They really do know everything, Alice mused, opening up the letter. It was much like the first, only instead of congratulating her on her acceptance, it merely informed her that she had passed her first year courses and would be advancing to the second year. A list attached revealed the schoolbooks—thankfully, lacking those written by Lockhart.
Even though the idiot had died, she couldn't bear the thought of reading more of his writing. She had suffered enough the previous year; there was no need to go through that fine torture again.
"Mum! Dad! I need to get my supplies soon!" Alice shouted, shoving the letter inside her coat pocket.
Dimly, she could hear her mother oblige, instantly beginning to plan the trip with her father. Whether they realized she intended on attending Hogwarts or not, getting her supplies would be necessary. And due to the need to stay in America, going back to Diagon Alley would hardly be an option—instead, Horizant Alley would prove to be the better choice. Located in Boston, it was a shorter distance to travel.
"Are you sure about Hogwarts, sweetheart?" Dymphna shouted back. "You were nearly killed last year! Dying isn't as great as it seems, love… No matter what Donne may try to say!"
Alice nodded, returning to the family room. "I'm positive, Mum. Besides… Edwina has Witch's Carcinodes. She needs a friend."
She bit her lip slightly, hoping that the illness would be severe sounding enough to convince her mother. Since she last saw her friend, she hadn't had a moment to inquire as to what the disease was—as far as she could tell, it was no different than the mere common cold.
Dymphna's face sunk into pity. "Oh… I'm so sorry, my dear. How long does she have?"
Alice frowned a bit. Witch's Carcinodes was just a common disease, made to sound more dangerous than it actually was. Edwina wouldn't have anything dangerous. Twelve year olds didn't catch deadly diseases-only the elderly did. "I don't know—what do you mean, how long does she have?"
"Love, Witch's Carcinodes is fatal. In the muggle world, we have a term for it—cancer. There's no cure."