-The Graveyard, Chapter Fifty-

CECILY POV

I was so angry, I didn't hear Harry calling my name until Hermione had to get me to come back down to the common room; he couldn't go up, and I had stormed past everyone in my fury. This wasn't going to be a good talk, I could tell.

"Are you alright?" He asked, seeing my face as I stormed back down the steps. He was still in his slightly muddied Quidditch robes, and his face was flushed from the cold.

"Dandy." I almost hissed, and turned to go, but somehow, he caught my elbow. I was faster than any normal human now, and keeping up with me was difficult, according to Hermione.

"Hey, no you're not. What happened?" He asked. I almost felt bad for him. His question and motive were sincere, but if I told him the truth, he would go berserk. I closed my eyes and counted to ten, which was like counting to three for Harry.

"You wouldn't like it…exactly." I said, and felt bad afterwards. I had let my true emotions change my tone, and that was dangerous, it would only make him angrier later. He frowned, starting to see what I was getting at.

"You found something." He said acidly. I glared at him, and turned to leave, but his voice stopped me. "I can't believe you. He hurt you so bad, and you're trying to help him." He spat.

I stayed where I was; I couldn't look at his face. "Why can't you trust me? I know what I'm doing, and you know that." I said softer than I usually talked. He was tearing me apart without even realizing it.

"Because he's hurt everyone in our immediate family, and you're judgment is clouded. You've changed, and it wasn't for the better." I stiffened. I still wasn't comfortable with the change, but I would die under Voldemort's attacks in the future without it. Or should I say, Eliv's attacks, if I could prove it.

"Would you rather have had me die later on then? Whether you like it or not, I would have. And he would have killed you for destroying his Horcruxes too! But I've said nothing about any of that, even though it's just as dangerous! How dare you say that to me." I had meant to sound angry, but it came out half depressed. He rubbed his face without answering. "I found something viable, something real. A fact, a truth, whatever you want to call it. And if I can rid the world of an evil, like you were with Horcruxes, then I'm going to." I said with a little more strength.

"But I would be killing him. You're helping the sick—" Harry started, but I cut him off, rage searing through my body so suddenly, it surprised me. I usually had better control over myself.

"Because he is trapped! Like I was! For Gods sake, can't you see why!?" I shouted, the sound seeming amplified in the common room. "He is a person, just like me! Do you have any compassion at all?!!" He blinked, surprised at my outburst. It was extremely out of character for me, and he knew that. But his anger wasn't gone for long.

"You COMPARE yourself to him! How can you compare yourself to that scum?! What happened to my sister?!" He yelled back. I flushed slightly as I realized everyone in the common room had stopped whatever they were doing.

"You mean the meek, half dead girl who was tortured half her life and was afraid of everything!? Sorry, she died along with her brothers compassion for life!" I snapped, anger starting to fade.

"Whoa, what's, going on here?" Fred's voice came from the portrait hole. I barely glanced at him and George.

"We're having a funeral for his compassion." I snarled, and turned to go, but Harry yelled at me some more, making the anger return.

"Oh grow up Cecily. Did Rawena Ravenclaw just take away you're common sense along with your personality?! I can't believe you!" Harry roared. I snorted a sarcastic laugh I was so mad. But deep inside, his comment was like a slap to the face.

"Oh, because you going out and killing Horcruxes alone is a smart thing to do to! Why don't we all just knock on his door and bring him a cake?! You are so biased!" I yelled, striding up to him and pushing him into a chair, fully intent on making him listen to me.

"I don't care if you approve or not, I'm going to help this man, because whether you believe me or not, he is trapped. I can't stand by and let that happen!" I yelled, putting a hand on each arm rest to keep him from getting up.

"Cecily—" Fred started.

"Shut up Fred," I snarled, not even looking at him, and pushed away, off the chair, making it slide back several feet. "I took the pain, the abuse, and yet you tell me what to do?" I almost screamed I was so mad, "Don't you think that if he hurt me, if I was the one starved and abused and killed then I would be making a decision I was sure of?" I blinked in surprise; tears were rolling down my face. I couldn't look at Harry, and I knew everyone listening would be horrified as they learned the truth. I let the tears flow and pushed past Fred and George, running down the hallway.

I thought I heard footsteps after me, but I wasn't sure. I skidded around the corner and sort of slumped over onto the cold stone floor. Tears that I thought I had banished forever were blazing down my face in harsh patterns, running down my neck and staining the collar of my shirt. I buried my head in my arms, and for the first time in my life, just cried out of anger and frustration.

Memories played in the back of my mind like a slideshow. The collection I had given to Harry before he escaped from the Graveyard played like a silent film in my mind, only making it worse. New ones I thought I had finally buried crept to the surface.

As a little kid, I played in the huge forest, Voldemort always watching of course, but I still pretended that I was alone. Sometimes, I would be a silent being in the vast forest, a force to be reckoned with, moving stealthily around the branches.

The first time I realized I had been kidnapped was when I heard Voldemort planning with the Quirrel man. They mentioned me, "the Potter boy's sister has no idea, she's just a prize for me." That's what Voldemort had said. That was the first time I had tried to run away, and in turn, that was the first beating I ever had. I was 13.

I felt a arm go around my shoulders, but I was to trapped in my memories to do anything.

When Voldemort didn't return from his second assault on 'The Potter Boy', Avery had made me so nervous. He had fun tying me to different trees in the forest throughout the day and watching me slowly get out of it.

The first night we spent in the Graveyard was the night I was raped. Before that, Voldemort had cast a age line around me, graciously giving me more space than usual. I had wandered through the graves, reading the titles, contacting the people who were dead because I had nothing else to do. I had talked to Voldemort's father. He had mentioned a curse to me, but before I could get more information, Avery had orders to chain me up. And then he raped me…

"Why does she keep saying that? 'Cursed, cursed!?'" Someone said in a frightened tone. My head shot up, and took in Ginny sitting cross legged in front of me, and Hermione next to me, looking down.

"Forget it; it's to dark to even think about." I croaked, and quickly stood up and used a suit of armor for support as I wobbled. I furiously wiped at my face as they both flinched at my voice. They knew I hardly ever cried, with an exception to the hospital. I was probably scaring them, but I honestly couldn't care right now.

"Obviously, look at you. I'm sorry." Ginny said quietly, as I buried my face in my hands.

"What did he do, when I left?" I asked, and I sensed them both stiffen. "Oh no, what?" I asked, looking up. Hermione spoke hesitantly.

"When you pushed him into the chair, you…were a little harsh. George took him to the hospital wing—Cecily!" She called after me as I bolted up, slipped in my haste, then ran past them as fast as I could go, starting to cry again. I hurt him, my own brother. What was wrong with me?!

I easily pushed open the door and bolted around to the side of his bed and knelt, being totally silent. He had fallen asleep, but I could see the bandages on his shoulders, and the potion bottle on his bedside was for concussions. I felt terrible, absolutely evil. I was a monster. Who hurts their brother in a fight? My hands shaking, I brushed his bangs out of his eyes, still crying. He didn't stir. I stood up and ripped a piece of paper off his chart, and took the quill with shaking hands.

I couldn't stay. I knew the only thing I could do, even though it would torture me every second, was to follow this new lead. Resolve this conflict once and for all, and give Harry time to forgive me. I knelt in front of his nightstand and wrote him a note:

Harry,

I have to leave, so I won't hurt anyone else. You were right, I've changed, and it's not for the better. Can you ever forgive such a unforgivable act? I know I will never forgive myself for hurting you. The fight was petty, and I'm sorry.

But I still can't sit by and let him hurt more people. Someday, I hope you can understand. Until then, I'll keep in touch. As for Mum and Dad…tell them I can't be sorry enough for what I've done.

All my love,

Cecily

I folded the letter before my tears could blot more of the words, and I put it under his glasses. I could hear Hermione and Ginny coming, so I lightly kissed Harry's forehead and ran out. I passed them in a blur I hoped they couldn't see. I was going faster than I ever had before; my grief acting as fuel.

Everyone had gone to bed, it was late. I packed swiftly, taking only the things I needed, and opened the window. I quickly tied my small bag to my broom and jumped out the window. The air screaming past me cleared my face of tears as I mounted in midair and zoomed to the boundary, and looked back. The castle was dark, only a few windows shined with light.

Slowly, I turned and flew into the night.