Note: Another one shot I found lurking in a folder somewhere...
It's so old I couldn't remember the original ending, but here's a version of sorts anyway!
Meet the Murderer
It was her second attempt in as many days and though she knew it was forbidden, indeed rightly so, Carrie Winters couldn't seem to help herself as she stood beside the kitchen table, listening to Dora Lupin reel off the usual checklist that signalled the end of Carrie coming to stay overnight.
"Toothbrush? Pyjamas? Slippers?"
"Yes."
"Both slippers?"
"Yes, Dora."
"And your hairbrush? It was in the bathroom..."
"Yes, I've got it." Carrie watched the witch intently as out in the hallway Dora stood before the mirror that hung upon the wall, tugging at the immaculate set of heavy scarlet robes that she had donned that morning and attempting to flatten a stray strand of dark brown hair. To see the witch so engrossed, Carrie slowly reached for the object of her desire, holding her breath in concentration as she edged her hand across the table, fingertips brushing the smooth paper, only to snatch it up and hastily hide it behind her back when Dora's head snapped round to look at her.
"If you're sure, then." the witch said doubtfully, for Carrie was forever leaving something or other behind. "Off you pop!"
Carrie reached to pick up her overnight bag, slinging it over one shoulder, and as Dora's gaze returned to her reflection the muggle hurried out into the hallway and made a beeline for the front door, calling:
"Bye then!"
"Bye, Carrie love."
Carrie was nearing the door, her heart thudding in her chest at the prospect of triumph as she passed the sitting room and called:
"Bye Teddy!"
"See you tomorrow!" Teddy called from where he sat sprawled upon the sofa, nose buried in a book, and Carrie reached to pull the front door open, thoroughly pleased that she had at last gotten away with it...
"Carrie?"
At the sound of Dora's voice, Carrie froze in her tracks, the stolen copy of that morning's Daily Prophet clasped firmly to her chest. She did not dare look round.
"Yes...?"
Dora did not reply quite instantly and the guilt-ridden suspense left Carrie to chance a peep over her shoulder.
The Deputy Head of Aurors appeared to be midway through applying a slick of pale lipstick to her lips and as she did so she wordlessly held out a distinctly expectant hand. When Carrie did not move she wriggled her fingers impatiently and Carrie gave a defeated huff.
"I was going to bring it back!" the muggle informed the witch sulkily as she stomped back down the hallway and consented to handing over the newspaper.
"You know the rules, love." Dora said as she reached to tuck the paper under her arm.
"I only wanted to look at it! I wasn't going to show it to anyone..."
"You can look at it as much as you like. When you're here." Replacing the lid of the lipstick, the witch pursed her lips together for a moment and then said: "Off you go, then! Your mum'll be wondering where you've gotten to..."
"I don't see how you could've seen me." Carrie complained, not taking the hint. "You weren't even looking at me..."
"Was I not?" Dora said, turning and heading briskly for the kitchen. She dropped the newspaper back down upon the table with a slap and suggested: "Must've been magic!"
Carrie offered the witch her very best scowl, but irritatingly Dora chose not to notice.
"Remus would let me borrow it." the muggle complained, leaning moodily against the doorframe.
"I highly doubt it."
"He would. He's more fun."
"It's a newspaper, Carrie. It has an entire two page spread dedicated to stocks and shares, there's nothing remotely fun about it."
Carrie huffed again. For a moment Dora found there was blissful silence broken only by the sound of footsteps upon the stairs, but then:
"Remus would let me take it. He enchanted the map in my school planner, after all!"
"What's that?" Dora heard her husband call from the hallway, having no doubt heard his name mentioned, and as she turned she saw Carrie spin around, expression instantly hopeful.
"Can I borrow your newspaper?" the girl asked excitedly as the werewolf joined Dora in the kitchen, and the witch could not help but feel a little satisfied when, without a moment's hesitation, Remus said:
"Certainly not, Carrie. You know the rules."
"I'd be really careful with it!" Carrie cried, fidgeting in annoyance. "I wouldn't let any muggles see it, I just want to look at the pictures and see what it says!"
"I'm sure." Remus murmured, reaching to retrieve the item in question. As he unfolded it to examine the front page, the werewolf wondered: "And what does it say this morning?"
"Nothing I'd tell a muggle girl aged thirteen." Dora muttered darkly, and Carrie watched a deep frown materialise upon Remus' brow.
"Indeed, darling..." the wizard agreed as he eyed the headline. He reached a blind hand sideways to draw out a chair so that he could sit down and when his wife set a cup of tea down at his elbow a moment later he asked: "Shall you know the verdict by this evening?"
"I hope so." Dora said gravely. "I can't stand to have it drag on and on."
"How were they yesterday? Harry and the others?"
"Grim. But how could they be anything else with this hanging over them?"
And Carrie watched Remus sigh and shake his head and them he murmured:
"Darling, I am so relieved it wasn't you."
The couple fell into such hushed talk then that Carrie thought they had forgotten her and she crept forward until she could peer at the newspaper headline herself.
DEATH INQUIRY REACHES FINAL STAGES: Head of Aurors to Take Stand
Dora left the house just a couple of minutes later, leaving Remus to the newspaper and Carrie stood beside him, staring.
"What's it all about?" the muggle finally wondered when Remus set the paper down and reached for his tea, and the werewolf looked distinctly uneasy before he sighed heavily and said:
"There is a hearing going on today at the Ministry over possible misconduct by the Auror Department."
"Is that why Dora's in her best robes?"
"Yes, she's going to be there to watch...speak, possibly."
"What have the Aurors done wrong?"
Remus put down his tea and folded his hands carefully upon the table. He eyed them in consideration for a moment before gracing Carrie with an answer.
"Unfortunately a suspect has...died whilst being brought into custody."
Carrie felt her stomach twist uncomfortably.
"How?" she whispered, rocking back upon her heels, and Remus shook his head.
"A...poorly aimed curse, I think..."
"You mean...you mean somebody killed them? An Auror killed them?"
"Ah..." Remus began, only to wince a little when Carrie's hand shot forward to grip his arm in abrupt panic as she asked:
"Was...was it Dora?!"
"No. It wasn't Dora, certainly not. It was...somebody else..."
Carrie's grip upon his arm slackened a little and she mumbled:
"Oh. Thank goodness..."
"Accidents happen, Carrie. Sometimes they cannot be avoided. Don't think on them, they are simply the way of the world and if we have to live in it we should do ourselves the kindness of not dwelling on it. It is dangerous as you know, being an Auror. The people they deal with are dangerous people. These things are bound to happen sometimes."
"I suppose..." Carrie agreed, quite shaken at the prospect, for though the Lupins had told her these things before she had never much thought of people dying as a result, and then she jumped a little to hear a knocking upon the front door and as a blur of turquoise hair signalled Teddy rushing to answer it, Remus said:
"I expect that will be your mother."
Carrie did not return to the Lupins' house for almost a week.
She saw Teddy as usual, though she made a point of asking him in for tea or to sit in her back garden or the two of them would go roaming outdoors, exploring the streets and going for a wander in the park.
If Teddy had noticed that she was avoiding the house he did not say.
But if he had noticed such a thing he had noticed it correctly, for Carrie was indeed avoiding the house.
Specifically, she was avoiding Dora.
Dora, every inch of whose being had been bothering Carrie for days until she found herself in quite a state, because the Auror seemed so abruptly alien to the muggle that Carrie thought she could not so much as look at her.
She didn't know if Dora Lupin had ever killed a man, but the possibility disturbed Carrie Winters quite like nothing else.
It had, of course, occurred to Carrie that something so shocking might be entirely easier when one introduced magic into the equation – such destruction could be had with the simple wave of a magic wand, but she tried her best not to think of this side of the magical world and besides, she associated such things with dark wizards and nobody else.
It had not occurred to her that Dora, her fearless wonder, her guardian angel who was to Carrie nothing but great and good, could have blood on her hands.
Dora, who was so cheerful, so bright, so vibrant. Dora who laughed easily and smiled and winked and who was light and breezy and took life in her stride. Dora whose eyes twinkled and who radiated warmth and a hint of pure and unadulterated mischief. Surely nobody like Dora could be so blighted, so tarnished without it being blindingly obvious? Surely if Carrie were to look into those dark, twinkling eyes she would be able to see the truth? Because nobody could have a person die by their hand and yet look and behave like Dora Lupin. Nobody could seemed so unaffected...
Or at least Carrie hoped as much. Because the notion that this was not true was the most disturbing thing that Carrie could imagine. To think something so awful could simply be swept under the carpet...
If Dora had managed to do that, Carrie thought her monstrous.
She felt almost afraid.
That Sunday morning saw Carrie wandering down her driveway towards the road with a letter in her hand, which she had been sent to deliver to the post box on the corner, and though she did not hear the front door of the Lupins' house open, what she did hear a moment later made her jump out of her skin.
"Morning, Carrie love!"
So alarmed was she at the sound of the Auror's voice that Carrie tripped over her own feet and fell sprawled upon the gravel, wincing at the stinging pain in her knees, and she had barely come to her senses when quick footsteps sounded and a shadow fell over her.
"Merlin, what was that? Here, up you get..." Dora said, stooping to offer the child a hand up, and when Carrie merely stared up at her dumbly the witch reached to pull her up by the elbow, only for Carrie to visibly flinch.
Dora released her and straightened up, and a small frown crinkled her brow as she gazed down at the girl worriedly.
"Everything alright, love?" the witch asked softly, and Carrie scrambled up onto her feet, not bothering to dust the dirt from her knees.
"Y...yes..." she mumbled, looking everywhere except for Dora's face, and the witch observed:
"You're white as a ghost."
"I'm fine."
"You don't look it."
"Well I am." Carrie mumbled, and with that she turned on her heel and set off for the postbox at a run without so much as another word.
Dora was still stood on the driveway a short while later when Carrie returned, upon her hands and knees, scrubbing the front step clean with a brush and soapy water, and though the witch glanced round at the sound of Carrie's feet upon the gravel she said nothing and promptly got back to work.
"Mum and Dad were talking about you last night." Teddy informed the muggle the following morning as they sat in Carrie's back garden, gazing lazily up at the fluffy white clouds that hung in the sky, and Carrie had wanted to say nothing but then he looked at her expectantly and she consented to wondering:
"Oh?"
"Yes," Teddy said, fiddling idly with the hem of his t-shirt. "Dad said: Have you thought any more about Carrie? And Mum said: I don't know. And Dad said: Well something should be said. And Mum said: Yes but what the bloody hell are we going to say? And then Dad said: Pass the salt please, Ted."
"Was that it?" Carrie asked, and Teddy shrugged and told her:
"Probably. Do you want to come to lunch today? Grandma Molly left us some trifle."
Carrie most certainly did not want to go for lunch, no matter how delicious she knew Molly Weasley's trifle to be. But as was often the case when it came to Teddy, she felt herself going along with anything he suggested. And so it was that noon saw her trailing after him across their shared driveway to the Lupins' front door and into the hallway, where she took an unfathomably long time untying her shoelaces and pulling the shoes from her feet. By the time she had carefully set them down against the wall Teddy was already in the kitchen, where Remus was setting the table.
"Where's Mum?"
"Upstairs."
Teddy bounded back into the hallway in order to bellow up the stairs:
"Hurry up, Mum! I'm starving!"
"She'll be down just as soon as she looks presentable." Remus called meaningfully, which quite bemused Carrie for though rarely entirely scruffy Dora had little interest in looking her very best whilst in her own house.
As Teddy raced back into the kitchen, leaping into immediate debate with his father as to why it would not be appropriate to eat trifle for lunch and nothing else, Carrie lingered at the bottom of the stairs, gazing apprehensively upwards, waiting for Dora to appear.
She could hear running water.
Holding her breath a little in anticipation, Carrie found herself wandering up the stairs, hand limp upon the bannister. She reached the landing and turned to find the bathroom door open. Dora, dressed in a distinctly sweaty looking black vest top, was leant over the sink, scrubbing soap up to her elbows.
Carrie edged her way to the doorway
Dora glanced round at her and promptly reached to stem the flow of water from the tap. Upon her cheek was a sizeable bruise. It was an ugly purple.
"Carrie..." the witch murmured, snatching up a towel to hastily dry her hands, turning quickly away, and Carrie caught sight of a pair of discarded scarlet robes, muddied and speckled deep crimson before Dora snatched them up from the floor.
"I was just...just freshening up..." the Auror murmured, flinging the robes into the laundry basket beside the bath. "Merlin, you rather startled me!"
"You've been at work." Carrie observed, shuffling back a little when the witch turned to hurry back out of the room, pulling the door shut behind her.
"Yes...there was a raid this morning." Dora agreed uneasily as she headed into the master bedroom. Carrie followed her and stood silently watching as the Auror drew fresh clothes from the wardrobe, throwing them down onto the bed.
"Dora..." the muggle mumbled after some length, taking a hesitant step forward, and Dora seemed somewhat breathless when she turned to ask:
"Yes, love?"
Carrie took another step forward and took a moment to look the Auror up and down. Her clothes were grubby and her pale pink hair ruffled and her face was somewhat pale. She looked tired, as she did often should Carrie catch sight of her arriving home after work. Carrie thought the bruise looked painful.
An inquiring eyebrow was slowly creeping up the witch's forehead. Carrie willed herself to speak.
"I...I think..." the girl mumbled, pausing to draw a deep breath. "I think I...I must ask you a question."
Dora's lips twitched towards a smile. She turned to snatch up a small tub from the bedside table and as she unscrewed the lid she told the girl:
"You can ask me anything. You know that."
As the lid came free the witch found herself pausing to find Carrie had appeared beside her and reached to pluck the tub from her hands.
Carrie looked carefully down at the sticky contents of the tub of Bruise Away for a moment before carefully dipping a finger into it, scooping up a blob with unnecessary concentration.
Dora sunk down onto the edge of the bed, frowning, only for Carrie to reach slowly to smear the cream across her cheek, her touch as light as a feather.
"Dora..." the girl whispered, fingers brushing carefully back and forth across the shiny purple skin, not daring to look the witch in the eye.
"Hm?"
Carrie paused. She looked into those dark twinkling eyes, finger still pressed to the Auror's cheek.
And then she asked:
"Have you ever killed a person?"
Dora blinked slowly and Carrie watched her gaze drop to her lap. In the ensuing silence, the muggle's finger slipped uncertainly down the witch's face until Carrie dropped her hand to her side. And after an age Dora looked back up into the child's eyes and, her lips barely moving, she said:
"Yes."
Carrie felt her mouth lolling uselessly open.
She had not thought what she would say in the event of such simple admittance. To think a single syllable could strike one so utterly dumb.
"They say," Dora said after a full minute of Carrie's wide eyes burning into her, "that the world is shades of grey, except for death which is black and white. And they say that, logically speaking, that makes taking a life black and white too." The witch gave a sniff and reached to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "But that's not strictly true, you see. Death is death, there's no doubt about that, but how it comes about...there's plenty of grey there, believe me."
Carrie opened and closed her mouth a couple more times, but something seemed to be lodged in her throat. She gave a cough and finally spluttered:
"How...how many?"
"Carrie..." Dora began with a wince, only for the girl to demand:
"How many people have you killed?"
"Very few." the witch whispered, gaze back upon her lap. "Very, very few..."
The child considered this for a long moment before she informed the witch:
"But you can't have. Not you. You're...you're not a...a killer. You're...you're Dora, you can't have killed anybody. Not...the way you are."
Dora Lupin smiled. It was quite possibly the most pained expression that Carrie Winters had ever seen.
"Is that so?"
Carrie nodded her head vigorously, only to stop when she felt Dora reach to take hold of her by the hands.
"In which case," the Auror concluded, expression mournful as she looked up at the girl again, "I should say that you are very young, Carrie. You are very young and you've barely seen an inch of this world. And I am much older and I've seen things you could scarcely imagine. What's more, you've known me just a few short years which, when you get to be my age, you realise is no time at all. By default you cannot possibly know me or my ways anything like as much as you think you do. People are complex, love..."
"I don't care how complex you are. Somebody so...so cheerful and...and bright and...and good can't...can't have done those things!
"I am lying?"
"N...no...just...I just...it's just you seem so...I can't imagine it...and that's...it's...well..." Carrie trailed off in frustration.
Tears had started to seep from her eyes. The contradiction in human form before her was making her eyes sting.
"Does it frighten you? The truth?" Dora asked her softly, and the child nodded dumbly, only to feel strangely soothed when the witch said:
"Me too. All the time." The witch's hands came to rub gently up and down Carrie's arms comfortingly as she insisted: "It ruins me, Carrie. Perhaps I only ever struck out in self-defence or there abouts but it...it tears a hole in me that's not going to heal. But just because you can't see that hole, doesn't mean it isn't there. If you're afraid I'm not...not jaded or that I've swept my actions under the carpet and don't care about them at all, you're so, so wrong. It's all there, Carrie. I'll carry it around with me for the rest of my life. And I'll keep it to myself for your sake and my family's sake and the sake of everyone else, because there are some things in this world that we must keep to ourselves. We must suffer in silence. Because what we are talking about...it's the worst of things. It's poison. We don't walk around with our worst actions tattooed across our foreheads. Perhaps we can single out a few evil people in the world but for most of us poison just rots away at our insides where nobody can see. And thank Merlin, Carrie! Because poison is contagious. I don't want that, I don't want to poison anyone else."
And though Carrie had yet to entirely shake off the numbness, she found herself whispering:
"I think that sounds brave."
"You shouldn't."
"Why not?"
Dora frowned, as if she was not entirely sure of her own reasoning.
"I suppose..." she said slowly, brow puckering until a trio of neat little lines appeared above her nose. "I suppose I just don't like to have any labels at all. Not in relation to something like that. It is simply something...something that happened, Carrie. Something that I did. It doesn't need labels. Labels only risk blurring things, muddying the waters until I can't recall it all clearly. And that would be a crime in itself, wouldn't it? To not realise what it is that I have done."
Carrie thought this probably made sense. Most things Dora said made sense. Even if as a human being Dora possibly did not entirely make sense to Carrie just then...
"Is it really like...like poison?" the girl whispered after some thought.
"I think so, yes."
"Like poison that can kill you?"
"Yes and no. It's certainly killed something inside me, but it's not something I want back."
"Why not?"
"Because living a life of regret isn't any sort of life at all. Besides, there's always going to be someone who lands themselves in the same situation as me, Carrie. That's one of the risks of being an Auror. And if I know how to stem the poison before it can kill me entirely, I might just know how to save the next unfortunate killer who comes along. We have to play with the cards life deals us, Carrie. We have to take advantage of every roll of the dice, good or bad, and see what good we can make of it. Does that make sense?"
Carrie nodded. The motion seemed to shake the numbness from her head. She felt immediately better. Except...
"Has Remus ever killed a person?"
Dora blinked.
"During the war, maybe?" Carrie attempted to clarify, which seemed to make Dora sigh a little.
"I don't know, love."
"You don't know?"
"No, I don't."
"But he'd have told you if he had, wouldn't he? I mean..."
"I don't know because he doesn't know."
"He...he doesn't know? Remus doesn't know if he's ever killed someone or not?"
"Exactly."
"How can you...not know?!"
Dora seemed perplexed.
"Well strangely enough love," she said, sounding abruptly amused, "when you're in the middle of a sodding great big battle like the one at Hogwarts, you don't tend to hang around long enough to check your opponent's pulse!"
"Oh..." Carrie said, feeling her cheeks warm in embarrassment.
There was a very long pause as both witch and muggle seemed to struggle to settle on whether or not to laugh, and though her lips were obviously attempting to tug themselves into a smile, Dora promptly swatted the girl lightly upon the arm and said:
"Merlin's beard, Carrie!" They shared a slightly wary chuckle and then the witch said: "Go on, get down those stairs, lunch'll be on the table!"
Carrie went without protest, only to pause when Dora called:
"And ask Remus to pop up here a moment, won't you, love? I'll only keep him a moment!"
And so Carrie Winters went back downstairs, her sense of unease lessening with every step she took. She asked Remus to go upstairs just as Dora had requested and then she sat down at the table, the last of her trouble seeming eclipsed when Teddy launched into the usual daft sort of conversation they always shared over lunch.
And upstairs Dora Lupin slid numbly off the edge of the bed to sit slumped upon the bedroom floor and her husband found her a moment later, her face buried in a corner of the duvet as she attempted to muffle the sobs that had risen in her throat.