Here's a short chapter. I tend to write characters that have issues with alcohol, probably because I have some of the same issues. So, even though some of it tends to veer on the overdramatic in my stories, note that writing about it is how I try to cope with it.
Anyway, thanks for reading! -alienoctopus
In February, I was not myself
"Miss Blythe, might you play a game with me?"
Professor Dumbledore was seated in a secluded corner of the Three Broomsticks with a muggle chessboard set in front of him.
"I think you can call me Ivy now that I'm out of Hogwarts, Albus." Ivy said. She felt as if she had taken a risk by calling Dumbledore by his first name.
"Fair enough. Care to join me, Ivy?"
Ivy looked around the bar. Since Death Eaters began to overrun Hogsmeade over the summer, the bar had been empty every day.
"Sure." She sat down and looked at the board. All of the pieces were placed as if Dumbledore knew she'd agree to a game.
"Do you like chess, Ivy?" He asked. Ivy moved her first piece.
"I'm actually particularly fond of it," Ivy admitted, "and I am particularly good at it."
Dumbledore made a quick move and Ivy began to contemplate her options.
Three turns later, Ivy had Dumbledore in check, and then checkmate.
"Another round?" She suggested. Dumbledore waved his hand and the pieces reset themselves.
"You were always attentive in History of Magic, correct?" Dumbledore asked as he took one of Ivy's pawns.
"I think I was the only student to ever like it."
"Why?"
Ivy took one of Dumbledore's knights and placed alongside the board.
"I dunno," she said, "The wars are actually pretty interesting. Especially the Goblin Wars—they're clever little things, aren't they?"
"So I am correct in assuming you know what good strategies in a war would be?"
"I suppose. Check."
Dumbledore moved his king one space. Ivy moved another one of her pieces. "Checkmate." She said smugly.
"There is a war coming, Ivy."
"I think I'm pretty aware of that."
"We need to prepare for battle. If not tomorrow, then next week, or even next year. We need a plan."
"And here I thought you had it all figured out."
"I would like it if you could strategize for the Order. Come up with the best ways to protect the greater good."
"What is the greater good here, Albus?"
Ivy was getting frustrated. Dumbledore had asked her to stay in Hogsmeade to keep eyes and ears out on Death Eater activity. But it was only her. Order members would sometimes come and patrol the roads, but never enough. At three in the morning last Wednesday, Ivy could have sworn someone broke into the Three Broomsticks. Were any Order members around? Of course not—Dumbledore, for whatever reason, left her alone.
"You're a lot smarter than you're given credit for."
"Thanks for the validation."
"I also know that, not only are you fiercely loyal, but you are such to your friends and Hogwarts. They all need protecting."
"There are plenty of Aurors in the Order of the Phoenix. Why not ask one of them?"
"Because you're smarter than you're given credit for. Voldemort will know to go after the Aurors who are on our side. He won't know to go after a barmaid."
Ivy resented being called a barmaid.
"You've heard the threats sent to the Weasley family."
A fire quickly rose inside of Ivy. "I'll bloody do it." She said. "But not for you, or Hogwarts, or the greater good."
"I know. I will send you the details for the next Order meeting and you can discuss your plans with everyone."
"Sod off, Dumbledore." Ivy growled.
"Ivy. IVY! Are you ok?" Fred's voice penetrated through Ivy's nightmares.
"What's goin' on?" She asked, her voice laden with sleep.
"You were screaming." Fred said.
"Merlin, I'm sorry, Fred. Not even one day and I've been a horrible flatmate already.
Fred studied his friend as if he hadn't seen her in years.
Which, really, he hadn't. Every time he looked at Ivy, he pictured what she was at Hogwarts. He saw a dewy, young creature brimming with nerve. He didn't usually see the sallow creature that sat up in his brother's bed.
Up and down her arms were still-healing scars from knives and curses. Dark circles sat beneath her eyes. One long, thin scar along her throat looked as if it would never fade.
"How come I never notice these?" Fred asked, tracing one of the twisted scars on the outside of her arms. It looked like lightening.
"Glamour charms. No one ever notices them."
"Will they heal?"
"These ones will, I think. They've been looking better over the last year. Or maybe I've just gotten used to them. This one won't, though." She indicated the scar along her throat. "Cursed blade."
Fred nodded.
"This is weird." Ivy said.
"What is?"
"You, seeing me like this. No one has. Not even Charlie." Ivy pulled the bed sheets around her.
"We're all scarred, you know? You've seen Bill. His won't heal, either. George hasn't got an ear."
"It's not that, it's…" Ivy paused. She knew exactly what she was feeling, but didn't feel like letting Fred in on the secret.
"I'm your friend, Ivy. In fact, there was a time in which we were best friends."
Fred grabbed Ivy's hand and forced her to look at him.
"I used to be beautiful, you know. You had to know. I would turn heads every day at Hogwarts—even on days when I didn't put time in my looks. I was even able to make Snape stutter every once in a while. But now I'm all mangled and awful. I'm a walking reminder that something bad happened."
"I—"
"—You don't need to say anything, Fred. Don't bother."
"Just. You still look really good, Ives."
"Shut it, Fred. Just go."
Fred left the room.
Ivy hurried for her wand and cast a few charms on herself. She looked as fresh as morning dew.
She took out a small bottle of liquor from the nightstand and took a long swig.
Ivy went back to sleep.
