When you're born into a world of magic, it's hard to picture yourself living in any other setting. I always dreamed I'd graduate as Head Girl, train dragons with my Uncle Charlie, and eventually settle down with a family of my own. Being a Weasley, I suppose it could be considered a simple life, but it was what I wanted my future to be.
But I guess fate had other plans in the end.
Some nights I dream that I'm young again, back at Hogwarts in the Gryffindor common room or curled up on the couch in the Burrow. I have my memories from times passed, ones that seem almost a lifetime ago. In this lifetime, though, I have to hunt just to make sure I help the ones I care about survive.
The air in the room is crisp when I wake up; autumn is approaching soon. That's usually the best time of year for hunting around the Rebel's haven, when the animals are too busy preparing to hibernate that they grow careless towards their own safety. It's similar to what happened seven years ago, only the roles were reversed. I was one of those stupid animals, too focused on preparing myself for a future outside of Hogwarts to realise the danger that was closing in until it was too late. I'm lucky to have survived through it all, though, I'm aware. It's what I've been told time and time again by those also lucky enough to have made it out. I still have my reminders of the deciding fight. The large scar tearing through my freckled skin from my left shoulder down to my lower back. The nightmares of the attacks that have now become my normal dreams. The distinct amount of family I am missing. The last one sometimes makes me wonder if I'm actually so fortunate to have lived when almost all of my family are either dead or enslaved.
I wipe the sweat from my brow and stretch out my legs before making myself get out of my nest of blankets in the far corner of the room. Another nightmare tonight, filled with the screams of those that weren't saved. I still have the irony tang of blood in my mouth, and I'm not sure if it's my imagination of if I bit my tongue too hard to keep myself from crying out in my sleep. There's sunlight creeping in through the window, warped slightly by the glass. It feels like every bone I have cracks as I get up. I've made a pile out of old patchwork quilts and throw blankets with small holes in them due to age, and I curl up in them to sleep. I say it's because I think the floor is more comfortable than the bed, but really it's so I can curl into a ball and cry myself to sleep at night. I'm twenty-five years old and I cry as if I'm five. I just want my family, some since of normality, back in my life.
I tiptoe over to the other side of the room, trying to be as quiet as I can and not wake my roommate. But the floorboards still squeak with every move I make, and she sits up wincing against the sunlight. Alice Coote looks at me in confusion, as if she's forgotten where she is.
"Rose? What're you doing?" she asks me, and I give her a small smile. We've been best friends since our first year at Hogwarts, despite being separated into different Houses. I grab my bow and arrows I keep next to my jacket and boots, shaking my head as I glance at myself in the old mirror we have in our room. There's a piece missing from the right corner, and a crack at the top, but it still serves its purpose. I tie my fiery red hair back into a pony tail before shrugging into my jacket. It's old leather, and it's a bit too big for me, but it serves its purpose.
"Go back to sleep, Alice," I tell her. "I'm just going out to work." She gives me a wary look but nods, disappearing under her cover. I sigh quietly to myself. We're still best friends, but things are different now. We used to be able to joke around and have fun, but ever since the Alphas took over and we went into hiding, we had to grow up. If things were different, we'd be the same as we once were. I was the one who changed first, and I know it. She has her brother still, the one I used to be with. I have Victoire. Perhaps I shouldn't have changed, but something had to be done. She and Nick became teachers, and I'm a hunter. We have our jobs to care for the other Rebels, to secure our future and learn to fight back. If we're going to ever do something for the good of the wizarding world, sacrifices have to be made. Mine was my relationships, my urge to touch and be touched, my need for conversation and company. I used to be afraid of being alone; now I prefer it.
I step into my old boots and grab my weapons before I leave our room, shutting the door behind me. One of my fellow Hunters, Ted Dagworth, is waiting for me by the door. His toned arms are crossed and he's watching me closely. Before he even says anything to me, I'm rolling my eyes and have my arms crossed in return to what I know is sure to be a long speech about how I need to be on time.
"I'm late, I know." I'm not a child anymore. He's only six years older than I am. "You'd just be wasting even more time lecturing me." He sighs after a few more quiet moments of watching me, him backing down first. This is usually how it goes when I'm in trouble; he may be a hardass with enemies and those he doesn't know, but with some of us, he's a teddy bear.
"Come on, Red. Greyback and Archer already went to check the traps, and Blackwood and Northrup are taking up fishing today." He smirks a little. "That leaves us with finding some prey." I only nod once in response. That suits me just fine; I find that fishing is less than favorable, and checking the traps doesn't take enough time. I enjoy being out, focusing nothing more on tracking animals and bringing home something to eat.
"Then I don't know why we're standing around and talking," I say, walking past him and heading down the hall. He follows me without hesitation, and we walk together down the old marbled stairs and through the front foyer. The old crystal chandelier is still hanging up above us by its wires, but everyone's waiting for it to finally fall and crash. Our boots make soft noises against the floor and we walk out the large French door that serves as the main entrance to the Rebel's hideaway. Old, overgrown with ivy, and out in the middle of the forest, the old mansion looks abandoned and useless. It's the perfect place for a group of survivors to hide. I place my hand on the head of the old lion statue outside the door as I do every morning, the one with one ear broken off and most of his detail faded. One of his paws is missing as well, but I still respect it.
Let us have a good hunt today, I quietly pray to him in my head. We can't have everyone starve because of us. Two years ago, there was a shortage of food and a severe lack of prey, and we had nearly lost a few of our members. Ted doesn't say anything. He understands my way of thinking and acting now. He had been a specialized Hit Wizard back before the Alpha's uprising, and he had lost his entire team during the attack. They had become his family after his parents had ended up in Azkaban when he was thirteen, the first people to crack through his shell and rough exterior. We were both orphans in a different sense.
We start off into the woods without a word to each other. We don't need to talk, we never really do. Over the years we've grown accustomed to each other's silence. That was another thing that had changed about me. Silence used to be my worst enemy, but now it's comforting. It soothes me in the way that cuddling and touch once did. I can feel Ted's brown eyes watching me as we head into the forest, away from the mansion. He's worried about me, I can tell. We worry about each other often; that's what you get when you're part of a team.
"You had another dream last night," he finally says to break the silence, the cuff of his dark jeans catching on a thorn bush for only a moment. I don't bother answering him because we both know it's true, but he sighs. "Come on, Rose. You know holding it in won't do you any good."
Holding it in also won't bring back anyone we care about, I want to tell him. But I don't. That's a line both of us know better than to cross. So instead, I just shrug. "It's easier than letting it all out." He shoots me a look that clearly calls out my bullshit, and I frown. "It was just a normal dream about the War," I tell him instead, and his look fades.
"The Alphas again?" he pushes, and I hesitate before nodding in confirmation. He shakes his head and does his best to comfort me with only a few words. "They might have won for now, but things will go back to how they used to be once we're ready. You'll see."
As much as I want to believe it, I feel like I can't. Nothing can ever truly go back to the way it was before the Takeover. Seven years is a long time. We're all so out of practice with our magic. Nothing can bring back the dead and the memories we're all haunted with now. We're children of war, and we don't have the luxury of freedom anymore. But we're the Rebels. We'll rise one day, without magic, and return our world with a sense of what was once considered normal. At least, that's what we dream of. But dreaming doesn't do us much good when reality is everywhere.
I suppose the true tragedy of our lives now is the confusion of our dreams of the past for faith.