A/N: Hey. So...yah...it's been a while? I don't really have an excuse other than the fact that freshman year both did and didn't go as planned. Sorry. As much as I love writing this story, time and focus was something I didn't have. I just had ideas bouncing around my head for a year and a maddening inability to get them down on paper. Not pleasant, let me tell you. Ugh... /
Disclaimer: You know the drill. I own Taren and all that relates to St. Jo's. Nada mas. Claro? Bien.
Chapter 9: Said Too Much, Said Not Enough
It was already dark outside by the time Taren woke up. She could see the streetlamp shinning thinly through the curtain across the room from her. She couldn't hear anyone else in the room, but she didn't move, just to be safe. Taren had been in this kind situation enough times to know it's best to maintain the element of surprise. Keeps you're attackers on their toes.
Glancing around without lifting her head, she spotted an empty frame hanging a few feet away, and the entire day came flooding back. She tensed.
Okay, so maybe she hadn't been in quite this same situation before.
Taking a chance she rose up slowly, prepared to run at any moment. But like she'd thought, the room was empty and she relaxed a little, taking the opportunity to observe her surroundings.
The last things she remembered was hyperventilating in the middle of a brightly lit street, but she now found herself in a dark, dank bedroom, on the second of third level from the looks of it. She was above the streetlamps at least, that was for certain. This room looked to have been cleaned; there were no cobwebs in the corners, but it was still just as shabby as the front hall had been. There was only a single flickering gas lamp set on a desk, but she could see the wall paper was in a sad state and all the furniture had a distinct droop to the corners. A scratched mirror was leaning against the wall opposite the door, a corner broken off. There were two other beds in the room pushed against the opposite wall from Taren. Both were made and both had a trunk at the foot. Taren noticed her own bags piled at the end of her own bed.
"Oh good, you're awake!"
Taren gasped and flung herself over her bed, putting it between herself and the voice. Taren's eyes scanned the room, looking for an intruder.
"Everyone will be relieved to know you're awake. They were afraid Moody's spell may have been a bit too powerful."
Taren's eyes widened as she stared at yet another talking painting.
The previously vacant frame now held a rather pretty woman, who was smiling down at the girl with warm, brown eyes. Her hair was a few shades lighter than her eyes, and the curls shown brightly around her face. She had the kind of face Taren thought would only become more beautiful with age – she looked to be in her late forties. It's hard not to trust a face like that.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" she said, as if she had just noticed Taren's hiding place. "I didn't mean to startle you."
Taren eased a little under the woman's friendly words, but she didn't move from her side of the bed. "Who are you?" she asked warily.
"My name is Andromeda Tonks, though I'd prefer you call me Andie. You're less likely to get tongue-tied that way," she added, giving a warm smile at her own joke that exposed the laugh lines around her eyes.
"Hi, Andie." Said Taren, not quite believing she was making friend with a woman made of canvas and brushstrokes. But she loosed up a bit nonetheless, slowly walking around the bed, taking a closer look at Andie's portrait. "How are you possible?" she whispered in awe.
The older woman laughed. "Magic! There are spells and potions to make a painting talked and think for itself. The same goes for photographs. Though they can't talk or move frame-to-frame like a painting can. But it's all because of magic, all part of being a witch."
"So all pictures can do this?"
"In the wizarding world, yes," was the patient reply.
"And I'm the only one to find this strange?"
Again, Andie laughed. "In this house, yes, but you're also the only one here who hasn't spent years around magic. In general though, it's not strange. My husband's a muggle and he's never really gotten used to it. He still twitches every time an owl flies into the kitchen." Andie smile fondly at the memory.
Taren's brow creased in confusion. "He's a what?"
"A muggle. A non-wizarding person."
"Oh," was all Taren could think to say.
The pair lapsed into silence for a moment. The more they talked, the more Taren forgot that Andie wasn't a person. Or was she? From the sounds of it, there was a living Andromeda Tonks wandering around out there, so she wasn't a soul, right? A chunk of her soul maybe? That was a rather disturbing theory, so Taren dropped that train of thought.
"You know," Andie started, breaking through Taren's morbid notion. There was a timid look in the woman's eyes as she spoke, like she wasn't sure if she should be talking. "I overheard the Order talking downstairs a few moments ago…is it true? Are you James and Lily's daughter?"
Taren narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "If you're talking about James and Lily Potter, then yes, that's what my birth certificate says. Why?" How did these people know her parents? What were they up to?
But Andie didn't seem to notice Taren's misgivings. A look of shock and awe crossed the portraits face. "But you…you died," she said in disbelief.
Taren raised an eyebrow in surprise. Well that wasn't the answer I was expecting.
"Um…no – I'm pretty sure I'm still alive."
"But you did! You died! With your parents! I went to you're funeral!" Andie's voice was excited, her arms flailing around her frame in amazement. "I mean, they never found you're body—"
"Obviously."
"—but Harry was the only one who survived the attack—"
"Who? Wait, what?" Taren sat up straight on the bed, confused and startled by the sudden twist of the conversation. "What attack? Who's Harry?"
Andie realized what she let slip a moment too late and suddenly looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a semi-truck. "Oh dear, I said too much didn't I? I shouldn't have told you any of that…" she seemed to shrink back into her frame.
"What? No! You mentioned it first, so tell me! Who's Harry? What attack are you talking about?"
"I shouldn't be the one to tell you! I'm sorry…" Andromeda slipped sideways and disappeared behind the frame.
"No! Andie, I need answers! Come back!" Taren ran to the wall. "Where did you go?!" She tried to lift the frame but it wouldn't budge.
"I'm sorry!" came the muffled, disembodied answer. "But I can't be the one to tell you. Go ask my cousin! Talk to the people downstairs!"
"You're cousin? Who's that? Andie? Andie!?" But she was gone. Taren gave a frustrated growl and flopping back down onto her bed.
What the hell is going on!? Taren thought, dragging a hand through her hair in annoyance. Who are these people?!
After brooding for ten minute, she got up and paced the room, glancing at the door every time she passed it. The frustration wasn't going away and it would only end badly if she didn't do something about it soon.
If Taren opened that door, she would have to make a choice. Either she could go down those stairs and out the front door, leave all this behind and go back to the life she knew, or she could go down those stairs, find the kitchen, and get some answers, accepting whatever it was that Professor Dumbledore had to offer.
She knew what lay outside that front door for her: absolutely nothing. She would be living on the streets, at least until she found a decent job and someplace to stay. She wouldn't be graduating high school; she would never be able to afford school in England, and St. Josephine's wasn't going to take her back anytime soon. Sister Margaret made that perfectly clear. There was no way to get back to Seattle without somehow raising at least several hundred dollars, if not more.
And in the kitchen? What did that place hold for her? God only knows. She though, but it's better than nothing. I would have a place to stay, a school to go to, a potential future…
But in the back of her mind, a little cynical voice was whispering as well. They've also got magic, talking paintings, disappearing people, and oh yah magic…The man in your nightmares had magic…and you know how those end…
Shut up! Taren snapped back at herself. The Professor said magic is not evil! It's the person using it that is evil.
But should you really trust what that old man has to say? You don't even know him—I mean, look where he brought you…
I have to trust him! By now Taren had stopped passing and was frozen in the middle of her room, deep in her internal conversation.
Taren blinked, realizing what she'd said. It was true. She didn't really have any other choice than to trust him. This was her chance out of the world she had lived in for far too long. This was her one chance to change and start over fresh. Professor Dumbledore was offering Taren the only chance she may ever get at bettering herself and living a life where she wasn't some freakish oddity. It was the only logical choice.
The worse that could happen is that I go to this school of his, find out they're a bunch of nut jobs and I leave, Taren reassured herself. I can always just leave.
"I do trust him," Taren said aloud and with conviction, as if to prove it was true. "I have to."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night," came a greasy voice from the mirror.
That more than anything was what propelled Taren across the room and to open the door. She was over the threshold before she could talk herself out of it.
Reviews:
Storms in Heaven: Hey Darling! So...I know, I know, I suck at life and the whole, "maintaining a social life when I don't see someone everyday". I have missed you though. I just read Tamora Peirce's new-ish book, 'Terrier', and it made me think of you. (It's George!! Well, kind of.) So of course I'm now rereading all of her books and reminiscing on all the times we were reading rather than paying attention in class. Remember wood shop? :) Anyway, hope your summer's been good! Love you!
Secret World: Thank you! :) Sorry this was so late in coming. I hope you enjoyed this installment though.
Allen Pitt: haha, as usual, so many ideas! After reading the 7th, I did realize Snape is going to be an interesting challenge. You'll just have to wait the 6 billion years it's gonna take me to get there. /
