A/N: 'tis done! *Cries tears of joy* At long last, I can post it! I am terribly sorry for the wait, but life has been, well...rather life-like recently. I went apartment hunting, found an apartment, lost an apartment. Started school (And with both Orgo Chem and Calc 3 that's been a real treat) and more. But it is here!
So, when I started writing the extra-stuff I was originally planning on keeping it small, like one, maybe two 200-word blurbs. Yeah...that got out of hand. Like chapter-length out of hand. So I decided to break it off and just include it in a separate chapter along with a bunch of other, random, tid-bits I had written. So I'll be posting review responses at the end of that chapter to keep this one all story.
Hope you enjoy it!
"There's nothing like a jolly good disaster,
To get people to start doing something."
~ Prince Charles ~
The word "history" is rather interesting if one gives it any thought. In French un histoire is commonly translated as 'a story' or 'narrative' but can similarly be read as 'a chronicle' and, of course, 'a history.' This makes sense as it is well known that "history is written by the victors" which, in essence, does lend itself to being a story.
But, when people think about that quote what they fail to realize is that a "victor" is not oft decided upon until after a conflict has been resolved. Until after the dominoes have all fallen.
It is easy, in hindsight, to spot patterns.
To look at a list of the dead and say, "well, it all began on January 30th, 1933 when Adolf Hitler became Chancellor of Germany."
To point fingers and bemoan all those who 'did not see.' I mean, after all, "The guy wrote a book about his plans." Never-minding that if everything written in books were to be taken as fact then Edgar Allen Poe would have some rather gruesome murders to account for.
It's easy, in retrospect, to see how every bit and piece fit together, culminating in this massive picture that "somehow" nobody saw.
Hindsight is twenty/twenty as they say, and history makes everything seem, well, so obvious.
Years from now, when this time period becomes known as the "First Wizarding War" some crackpot scholarly type will make the claim that "everything began in April of 1971" four months after I was born. They will claim that "the Civil War brutally raged in the streets of Magical and Muggle London, alike, for nigh on ten years."
And they will attach titles to what were previously thought of as 'skirmishes' attaching importance to events that meant next to nothing to us at the time. Names such as "The Battle of Kent" or the "Hogsmead Massacre," would be used to wax poetically about such 'fringe groups' as the "gallant, Order of the Phoenix who sought to oppose the terror of You-Know-Who."
Everything that ever was, and all that is to come, will be carefully scrutinized, categorized, and then "properly accredited." And while a nice little time-line, detailing the 'so-called war' will become available to the masses it will have, very carefully, left out the truth.
The truth…such as that the "war" wasn't referred to as such until after the fact.
Or that the vast majority of the population was ignorant, for years, as to the exact extent of what they'd referred to as 'isolated killings.' And it will make absolutely no mention of the countless wasted resources by the DMLE to catch what they referred to as a "Psychopathic, Opportunistic, Spree Killer."
Which, if I'm being honest, was a rather good profile of Tom Riddle…unfortunately looking for one killer rather than a cult of killers meant that all "evidence" the DMLE happened across was incorrectly interpreted, at best.
A Civil War is completely distinct from any other type of War. There is no "declaration of War" no clear cut 'beginning' and rarely a clear-cut 'end.' What this means, in practice, is that the war didn't have a set "start" date.
Rather the war started on a different date for everyone. Until it affected your life you weren't aware that it was happening.
The War started for me and mine on December 19th, 1975.
The day of my fifth birthday.
The day began much the same as every day before it, that is to say, it was completely nondescript. Which, if I'm being honest, made me rather depressed at the time.
I mean, it was my birthday, I'm not so conceited that I felt everyone needed to drop everything and shower me with affection, or anything, but a little bit of acknowledgement would have been nice.
A simple, "Happy Birthday, Thea" from my parents, or a card from my brothers.
I didn't blame them for staying at Hogwarts for break. They had sent me a long, long, letter apologizing for the fact that they would be missing my birthday, would be missing Yule, all so that they could "test something." I wouldn't have let them off the hook nearly that easily if they hadn't agreed to explain why they'd been acting so weird when they came home that Summer.
Well, no, that's not exactly true.
I didn't want to let them off the hook at all. I mean it's stupid, and childish, and I knew that there were plenty of younger siblings who didn't get to celebrate their birthday with their whole family. After all, how rare was it that my birthday happened to fall on Winter Break, every year?
Winter Break is two weeks long, that's fourteen days, fourteen days out of three-hundred and sixty-five, that's less than four percent.
That's how rare, four percent, and yet I was so, so, so, MAD at them. I mean, my birthday? Really?! Whatever it was that had caught their attention was so important that they had to bail on me, on my birthday?!
To say I was angry when I got that letter, well, that would be an understatement. But, eventually, I got over it. Rationalized it, even. After all, I hadn't reacted so negatively when Sirius chose to stay at School back when I was one, and didn't I know Reg well enough to know that he would be here unless something really important kept him away?
So I rationalized it, and pushed the hurt away, and made myself 'get over it.' Being angry wasn't going to change anything, after all, and it wouldn't do to hold a grudge until I saw them in June. And so they were off the hook.
But still, no card?
That, as stupid as it seems, was something I couldn't so easily forgive.
Not on top of everything else. My parent's not acting as if the nineteenth was any different from the day before or the day after it. My brothers choosing some vague 'test' over their only sister. And then them forgetting to get me so much as a card?!
Yeah, I was pissed.
Bellatrix dusted off her old astronomy tome, pieces of an abstract plan forming. It had been far too long since she had been able to do anything for her love, so, being gifted with the honor of planning their next raid, she had resolved to do something truly memorable.
She was more than ready to get back into the field.
Rabastan and Rodolphus had been having all the fun lately.
Having gone so far as to invent a game between the two of them, "muggle baiting" they'd called it. Or, well, she'd called it-when telling the Auror's office about what she had "noticed" at the crime scenes. And Bellatrix couldn't help but wonder at the dysfunction that was the Ministry.
Honestly, nigh on five years and they still hadn't managed to pick up on the fact that they had a mole in the DMLE, let alone that she was the mole.
It was just further proof of the Wizarding World's decent. Back when Ignattius Tuft was Minister such a thing would have never been tolerated. At the slightest suspicion everyone under his command would have been doused with Veritaserum and taken in for questioning.
As is-was-the no nonsense way of witches and wizards for centuries.
Then the muggles invaded with their "sensibilities" and "priorities" and "constitutions" delicate or otherwise. Bellatrix could remember, with great clarity, the day that mudblood Nobby Leach took office, not least of all because it was the year she had started Hogwarts, and Great-Great Aunt Belvina had passed away.
From disgust, Bellatrix was sure.
And now the DMLE wasn't even allowed to use the Unforgivables without express, written permission.
Bellatrix was surprised that a Dark Lord hadn't risen sooner.
When the only thing standing in one's way between total control, and mediocrity, was an agency that was adverse to using deadly force? Well it really was a wonder that the crime of Wizarding Britain didn't run amok.
It was only the horror's of Azkaban that kept people in check. Although Bellatrix privately thought that made them cowards.
She did not fear Azkaban. In fact, she welcomed it. Let those fools that called themselves warriors cower at her fealty. At her strength. She was a Black, and a Black never falters. Never bends. And never breaks.
Bellatrix had no fear of Azkaban, because she knew who she was, and what she stood for.
And no dementor could take that away from her.
It was what made her so terrifying. The fact that she was so set in her goals. When a person had a clear view of what they wanted, they developed a clear view of what they'd do to achieve it. In a War this became a devastating advantage.
Bellatrix never faltered.
Never.
She knew what she would do to help her Lord achieve his dreams. Achieve their dreams. And so had no need to falter.
She was willing to kill.
And so she killed.
Her opponents, however, well, they tended to hesitate. And Bellatrix just laughed as their hesitation cost them.
It was their own fault.
Yes, she never faltered. Which was half of what made her so deadly. The other half, was that she very rarely cared. Not that she was incapable of feeling, oh no, Bellatrix felt things quite acutely.
She felt things with more clarity than most. It was what drove her. Her hatred. It was also what made her spell-casting so deadly. Intent was nine-tenths of spell, after all. So, yes, she felt, but she very rarely cared.
About society, about morals, about such abstract concepts as 'right' and 'wrong' she didn't care about any of it. Not even a little. What was it to her if someone was begging for their life? Pleading for mercy? They didn't deserve the life they had to begin with!
Mudbloods.
They had infested her world.
The life they had built, the jobs they'd acquired, all of it belonged to wizards and witches alike. It was not theirs to have, to posses. So who cared if she took it from them?
Permanently?
Not her.
And the Muggles? Well, they should have known better than to get in her way. They were vermin. Nothing. Worth less than the dust, of the filth, beneath her feet. Bellatrix would not allow anyone to stand in her way.
Not Muggles, not Mudbloods, and not Blood-Traitors.
Flipping her astronomy book to the Lunar Appendix, she couldn't help but smile at the dates she read. "Well, Aunt," she mewled, "I hope my cousin enjoys the little...present...I'm sending her. Good gifts are just so hard to find, after all."
Bill was beyond excited.
He and Charlie were getting to go to Thea's Birthday Party.
Not that she knew about her party. His daddy said it was a surprise, and that Bill couldn't let Thea know they knew about it. Not until they saw her at the party. Bill didn't think Thea would like that all that much, but he trusted the adults to know what they were talking about, so he kept quiet.
Bill had never been to a friend's birthday before.
His Mother had said that when he starts Charm School, next year, that he would likely be invited to plenty of birthday parties. And that he would-in turn-have to invite them all to his party. He wasn't too sure how he felt about having strangers at his not-yet party, even if his Mother assured him that they wouldn't be strangers by then.
Still, it seemed like a nice idea, having such a big party.
But Charms School was a whole year away, and his birthday even longer still. And Bill couldn't wait that long to celebrate with friends! Which is why he was beyond excited that he was invited to Thea's party.
He didn't think he would be.
Or, rather, Thea hadn't thought he would be.
She had been very careful about telling him, of course-about her birthday, she didn't know about the party.
Had stressed how much she wanted them there. And how, if it was up to her, they would be there. But had then pulled the ultimate kid-card, the trump of all trumps. The one thing that had instantly allowed Bill to understand why he wouldn't be spending Thea's birthday with her.
"My mom wouldn't say 'yes'."
Her Mother.
No kid could argue with their Mother. This was a fact that Bill knew with every fiber of his beings.
In the depth of his bones.
If Dad said 'no' he could be persuaded. He could be poked and prodded and bothered until he either snapped "if you ask one more time" or changed his mind. But if Mom said 'no' it was no.
Full stop.
So Bill had been really surprised when his Daddy told him that he and Charlie were invited to Thea's Birthday Party. Her surprise birthday party. But he had been far too happy to really question it.
He'd been bouncing off the walls since his dad had informed him, and had all but dragged his Dad to Diagon Alley, to pick out her present. He'd wrapped it himself. And was now pestering his father to take him to meet Thea. After all itwastodayitwastodayitwastoday and Bill couldn't wait to see the look on Thea's face when she saw that he and Charlie were there.
"Dad, is it time yet?!"
"William! It's only five in the morning!"
The day of my Fifth birthday I was morose.
There is no other word to describe it.
I was sullen and sulky and ill-tempered, and all those other equally valid synonyms. And the reason could be summed up in two words; "my brothers." I completely, and utterly, blamed them for my mood. Which, I'll admit, was rather unfair of me. I mean, they were how many miles-sorry, kilometers-away? When my parents were just down the hall.
Shouldn't I have blamed them instead? After all, they had no such excuse. But, unfortunately, emotions and logic rarely mix. So, morose I was, and morose I would stay...until that night.
Birthdays are an odd concept.
Looking back on it now there are only a handful of birthdays that I remember, and they all stood out in someway or another. My 18th-a bonfire, winter solstice, celebration. My 13th-when my family flew nineteen hours to surprise me. And my 3rd-complete with bouncing castles, a clown, and time with my Mother.
That's it.
Nineteen years of life, and three birthdays standout.
Three.
If anything I remember other peoples birthdays more so than my own. As odd as that is. It just is. I wish I could say that was one of those things that I managed to change with my second chance-but I didn't.
I couldn't.
That is...was...not something that I could just change. Which is just a long-winded way of saying that my fifth birthday was one for the memory books. One of the "handful" of birthdays that I would always remember.
That I would never forget.
The day began much the same as any other. That is to say there was no indication that today was any different than any other day. Which I've said before. But it sort of really pissed me off. So it kind of bares repeating. Sorry.
But, yes, same as any other day. I woke up. Had breakfast with my parents (a bland breakfast, mind you, not even a good breakfast) during which Mother outlined my day for me. (I would spend the majority of it in the study, with my tutor. "Yay"). Before she and Father (Daddy why, why are you leaving me to my boredom?!) departed. Leaving me alone.
I cried.
And then I picked myself, decided to stop with the dramatics, and marched to the study.
The next few hours were spent learning things that were actually sort of fun, all things considered. If I hadn't been in such a piss-poor mood I'm sure I would have picked up on the fact that it was less of a "tutoring session" and more of a "baby-sitting" session.
I learned how to play Exploding Snap!
Which I actually found rather boring. I preferred Trump Games; Bridge, Hearts, Spades, you know thinking games. Not matching ones. Even exploding matching ones. But it was still a nice experience.
Exploding Snap. Reading Fairy Tales from Beedle the Bard (it was rather anti-muggle though?) Learning a Japanese "card" game known as karuta (which I couldn't play until I had managed to memorize 100 famous poems. I got through about 20, it was fun-if hard.) All in all my tutor did a wonderful job of "teaching" me in a way suitable for one's birthday.
Not that I picked up on it.
No, I was completely convinced that everyone had forgotten what today was. Completely and utterly convinced. Which is why it came as such a surprise when Mother and Father-Daddy and Mommy-came home early-around 5 o'clock, to take me to Uncle Ignattius for a "family dinner."
I was too happy at the idea that they had not forgotten my birthday to even question anything. So, with a smile on my face, I said good-bye to my tutor (promised to memorize the other 80 poems, so we could play a real game), grabbed my Daddy's hand, and immediately dashed for the floo.
Missing the look of soft fondness that passed over both their eyes.
Sirius felt terrible.
Beyond terrible.
He felt absolutely, positively, terribly awful.
And it was all Reg's fault.
Okay, not really. It wasn't anyone's fault but his own. But Sirius would never have agreed to stay behind with the rest of the gang if he'd known that Reg was staying too. He wouldn't have agreed if he'd known that neither of them would be there for Thea this winter!
Or, he'd like to believe he wouldn't have agreed. But the truth is that Sirius didn't really have much of a choice. Not like Reg who literally had no choice-to hear Reg say it he was all but threatened to remain at school this go-around. But "didn't have a choice" in the sense that he would've gone down in history as the 'worst-friend-ever' if he hadn't stayed.
After all Sirius had given his word. He had promised James and Remus. So while he felt almost sick to his stomach that he was choosing his friends over his sister, the fact was that he didn't really have much of a choice.
And on her birthday too.
It killed Sirius. But there really was nothing he could do. After all, James, Peter, and he had been working on this since second year. And they had finally, finally gotten to the point where they were relatively certain that they could all complete the transformation.
And the fact that the full-moon fell on Winter Break this year? It was too perfect. The absolute best testing situation they could hope for. It would allow them a chance to see just how much control they could garner over Moony while the majority of the school was away, and, therefore, safe.
So, yes, Sirius felt terrible. But he was sure Thea would approve if she knew. And that was what he held stead-fast to. That, and the knowledge that the 'rents had listened to him, had planned a party for Thea.
And had invited actual kids to it.
Surely that would be enough for her to forgive him?
God, Sirius felt terrible.
Orion was rather proud of himself.
Not only had he managed to convince his wife to throw a surprise party for Thea-they had to do something to take her mind off the fact that her brother's weren't coming home for break-but he had also managed to broach the topic of Thea's "best mates".
"Weasleys?! Weasleys! Orion, just when were you planning on telling me that our ONLY DAUGHTER managed to befriend a couple of, couple of blood-traitors!"
"Now Walburga, dear. Just calm down and we can discuss this like rational adults."
"Calm down? Calm Down?! Do. Not. Tell. ME. To CALM DOWN!"
Of course it took quite a lot of finagling to get her to agree with his reasoning. But eventually she had folded. After all Walburga knew Orion well enough to know that he never did anything unless it was founded on very sound, very secure, logic. All the more where his little girl was concerned.
So it had taken a bit, but eventually Walburga heard what he was saying. Mainly that with the way things were heading it might be a good idea to at least attempt to be neutral. Strong leanings either way would only come to bite them in the arse, later, after all. Besides, in the long run they really should stand opposite Bellatrix and her...posse.
After all, they had a seer for a daughter. There was only one situation in which she would be able to lead anything even remotely resembling a "normal" life. And it did not come about by severing her ties with the people who would-one day-willingly die for her.
Convincing Walburga that it was in Thea's best interest to stay friends with William and Charles was a challenge, but do-able. Convincing Arthur that it was in his children's best interest to remain friends with Thea? Well that was an entirely different matter.
Which was half the reason Orion was so proud of himself.
Orion had known Arthur's father-Septimus-back in the day. They hadn't been in the same year, Septimus being around six years older than him-four years younger than Cedrella-but that mattered little as they had come to know each other on the quiditch pitch not in the classroom.
There was little Orion could tell anyone about Septimus beyond the fact that he had been a wicked good Keeper back in the day and was one of the few (very few) people who could beat him in Wizard's Chess. How that would translate to his son, Orion had no-clue. Luckily he had known his first cousin, once removed, and it was she that the red-head seemed to favor in temperament.
That is to say, he was the opposite of temperamental.
Thus Orion had foolishly believed it would be easy to convince Arthur of his plans. A matter of simply extending an invitation-to, say, a birthday?-which, in hindsight, was rather ignorant of Orion. Sure the man may be calm, but that didn't mean he was anything less than absolutely thorough when it came to his children's well-being.
Especially considering the fact that he was a relatively new parent, didn't have the experience of raising two teenage boys to fall back on.
If Arthur had more Slytherin in him then it would have been an easy enough sell, talks of alliances and matches and subtle hints here and there would have been all that was needed. As a Gryfindor, however, certain things needed to be spelled out for him, and in such away as to not insult his sensibilities.
People were so touchy now a days.
But it mattered not, for Orion was a politician and one of the few things a politician knew how to do, and do well, was change their vernacular to suit their needs. That is, they could speak the 'language of the people' whatever 'people' they happened to be speaking to, at the time.
"Won't you please consider allowing your boys to attend Thea's party? We can hold it at Lucretia's place if you feel too uncomfortable elsewhere. I understand well that these are dangerous times."
"I'm not too sure. I mean...I just don't want them to get hurt. They're far too young to be getting tangled up in all this nonsense."
"What nonsense? I'm simply inviting them to a child's birthday party. I'm not asking you to sign a marriage contract. Merlin knows my little Thea is pig-headed enough to refute such a thing on principle alone."
A light chuckle. "Yes, from the boys stories I did get the feeling that she was a little rebel."
"Quite like your Mother, I'd say."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I mean no offense, of course, I quite liked Cousin Cedrella. Father was always ranting about Grandfather's temper, he regrets that she was disowned, you know. Really it is all so stupid. Family is family, after all. Blood is thicker than water and all that. I mean, just look at our children, they didn't even know they were related and yet they still ended up the best of mates!"
"T-that's true, I suppose."
"And really, what's the harm in letting them keep that? Good friends are so hard to find now-a-days. And isn't it our job as their Fathers to protect that innocence? To let them go on believing it's all as simple as walking up to someone and saying 'would you like to play with me'?"
"...yes. Yes, I quite agree with you."
"Great! So I'll see you around Five then?"
"W-wait!"
"Of course you need to talk it over with your wife, I quite understand. Can't go making any decisions without consulting the missus, now can we." Light chuckle. "After all, we both know who wears the trousers, now don't we?" A wink.
"..."
"Well, this was a lovely conversation. Thea will be ever so surprised, I can't wait to see the look on her face when she see's William and Charles. We should do this again sometime."
Of course, some mind-tricks always helped too. What where the muggles calling it these days? Psychology? Well, anyway, the point was that Orion had managed to plan a rather amazing party, gotten both Thea's Mother, and the Father of her best friends on board. And then managed to keep the whole thing under wraps.
In fact, Orion had gone one step further. He had stopped referencing time about a week leading up to Thea's birthday, and had completely disregarded referencing her birthday at all. So Thea would have no idea that today was actually her birthday.
It was perfect.
He had let her tutor in on his plan and asked the young man to "teach" Thea in such a way that she would be able to enjoy the time it took Walburga and him to prepare the party over at Lucretia's.
All in all he was beyond excited.
He just couldn't wait to see the look on her face when she realized she'd been had.
Yes, Orion was rather proud of himself.
I jumped.
Stepping through the green flames of my Aunt's Floo, and hearing the jumbled yell of "SURPRISE!" it was all I could do to stifle my "eek!" So yes, I jumped. But that was it. I stopped moving after.
I froze.
Catatonic.
I just couldn't compute what I was seeing.
A surprise party? For me?! But, wha-. h-how, who?! Honestly, who?! This was something so far out the norm for my family that I was legitimately tempted to pinch myself.
Elvis has left the building.
I think I might have frightened my parents with my complete and total lack of response. But, really, there wasn't any other way I could have responded. I mean, I'm normally pretty good at taking things in stride. But there was "crazy, random-happenstance" and then there was COMPLETELY AND TOTALLY OUT OF CHARACTER.
I don't think I can quite capture how shocked I was.
I suppose the only way to explain it would be through an analogy.
Alright.
Imagine you had a dog. Now, this dog was your dog. Alright, you loved this dog, and you took care of this dog, and most importantly you knew this dog. This dog didn't act the same way every day-that would be odd-but it still followed normal, dog-like rules.
Now, imagine that you were taking this dog for a walk, and it was being very dog-like; chasing squirrels, sniffing other dog's butts, rolling in the grass. When all of a sudden, it freezes. And you think to yourself 'huh, that's odd.' But then you shake it off, because it's not really odd. Surely there was a logical explanation for it.
Now imagine that this dog, your dog, just suddenly stands up.
Just raises itself onto its hind legs like it's an everyday occurrence, and turns to you with a suffering air.
"Really," your dog bemoans, "I've grown quite tired of chasing squirrels, greeting my fellow brethren, and re-establishing my territory. Would you mind terribly if I retire for the evening?"
...
Exactly.
So, yes, I froze. But the cure for coma-by-surprise is, apparently, an even bigger surprise, because with a-
"Hey, T'ea, over here!"
-I began to thaw.
Bill?
"Whoo-hoo, T'ea, it's me! I'm next to da cake!"
It really is Bill! What's he doing here?
He was invited, it turned out. Both him and Charlie. According to them my Dad had approached their's and the two knuckle-heads had known about this for weeks. I wasn't sure whether to be pissed at them for hiding this from me, or impressed at them...for hiding this from me.
Not that it really mattered, the truth was that I was far too happy to contemplate any negative emotions, anger or otherwise. Not when I got to hang with Bill and Charlie, on my birthday, in front of my mom.
That was the most important part, hands down. I don't know what Dad said to get her to accept it, but the fact was she had. For some inexplicable, undeniable, reason, she had. Which was as good as saying our friendship was safe. She wouldn't interfere.
Which was a major load off of my back.
The party was a major hit. A ridiculous amount of fun. From the presents;
"See, T'ea, I got you a book! 'Cuz I 'membered you sayin' you like 'em!"
"The Tales of Beedle the Bard? Thanks Bill, I'm happy to have my own copy!"
"D'ere great, my fave-o-rite one is da Hoppin' Pot!"
"Really?" I raised my eye-brow, wasn't that one a little anti-muggle for his parents to be promoting? "What do you like about it?"
"...da Pot, silly! It taughted da wizard to be nicer!"
"...cool." That...was not the story I'd grown up hearing.
Perhaps?
This gift might be better than I thought...better not let mom catch me with it.
To the cake;
"A snitch!"
"I charmed it myself, little moon." Father chuckled, while levitating it in front of me, the candles dashing to-and-fro. "You better be quick if you want to blow out all of your candles and get your wish, though!"
To the general atmosphere;
"You were right, Orion. Amalthea really needed this, didn't she?"
"It's hard to remember, when she's looking at you with those eyes that have seen other worlds, but she really is just a kid. She needs the chance to relax every once in awhile."
"I only hope it can last."
It didn't.
It makes sense in a sick, ironic, sort of way.
All good things must come to an end and all that.
Murphy's Law; everything that can go wrong will go wrong.
In retrospect, considering the political climate my parents really were taking a major risk. Not only by openly associating with a family of "blood-traitors" but by choosing to celebrate my birthday on the nineteenth of all days.
There are some who would argue that we were tempting fate.
That we should have known better.
That we deserved it.
To those people I have but two words to say;
"Screw You."
I was five. War or not I didn't deserve anything. No-one deserved having their birthday party turned into a platform for a psychotic group of ne'er do-gooders! NO ONE deserved the kind of fear, the kind of unmitigated terror I was forced to live through for those few split seconds when I could just see everything going to hell and ohmygodohmygodohmygod just KILL HIM! Please. Please. It would be a mercy!
The scariest part?
There was no-warning.
No wards went off. No sounds of apparition rang like gunshots. No spells flew. Just laughter, and joy...
...and a cloud parted...and the screams began.
They had infiltrated the party.
I don't know how, although I do have my guesses. It was an open-invitation to family after-all (couldn't risk offending someone) and Uncle Ignattius had to be very careful with the sort of magic he allowed-working as he did with magical creatures-so it wouldn't be too hard to infiltrate if one knew when and where to be.
Just a matter of careful planing and loose lips.
It was all so fast.
One moment I was laughing at a joke-some meaningless thing-that Bill had cracked, and the next minute my head was whipping around to look for the source of the blood-curling screams.
What I saw next I would never forget.
It wasn't the gaudy lighting of the moon. It wasn't the way his skin seemed to stretchstretchstretch. It wasn't the preternatural dark magic that seemed to circle him.
No.
It was his eyes.
His eyes that shown with a malicious sort of glee. The kind of look that only comes from the complete and total knowledge that you were going to destroy lives. The type of sadism that even the worst-of-the-worst wouldn't condone. The joy of breaking children.
Greyback.
It was his eyes that gave him away.
I had barely completed that thought-barely locked eyes with a monster-when I was suddenly being yanked through space. I was folding in on myself, everything was curving towards my center of gravity. I felt like a protein, folding and un-folding and re-folding. Trying to find the best position, the best orientation, the most stable-
-and it stopped.
I gasped for breath. My thoughts were running a million miles an hour. All I could think was thatwasgreyback-thatwasgreyback-thatwasgreyback over-and-over-and-over. I was hyper-ventilating. I was ready to pass out. I would have too, if not for one small problem.
"You're not Charlie!"
I wasn't at my house.