Don't worry, this is the same fic.
~Dot
CW: Child Abuse
It just didn't happen anymore. That's what people said. After all, it was 1982. Who died in childbirth in such an advanced age? But that's what happened to Ainsley's mum. She left him alone to wander the decaying halls of their wealthy ancestors. He often wondered how different his life would have been if she had survived.
The first time he could remember feeling excited was when he received his Hogwarts letter. It would be his way out. He had immediately begun packing, knowing that he wouldn't be leaving for a month, but anxious to go nonetheless. He knew he would be trading one castle for another, but the new one would be full of people, full of friends. However, as soon as his dad came home from work that night, he tore up Ainsley's letter. He wasn't going to have his only son mixing with mudbloods and blood traitors, especially under the control of that Dumbledore. No, he would stay at home and get a proper education.
It wasn't uncommon for Ainsley's dad to blow a fuse in front of him. That was how Ainsley had marked time. He was four when his dad first hit him- for sneaking out of bed to see the fireworks that the muggles put on. He was seven when his dad burned him for asking about the muggles in town. This is how he understood the passing of time. His father tended to anger more when it was close to Ainsley's birthday. There was never a celebration for his birthday. Instead, it was a day of mourning. Mourning for his dad's beloved, in which Ainsley looked a little too much like.
But Ainsley's 11th birthday had been different. His dad did not greet him with anger or pain but instead tossed a wand to him. His first birthday present. He wanted to go to Diagon Alley- to get a wand and an animal, as had been written in his letter. But, his dad didn't like him leaving. There were too many muggles and mudbloods out there. He had everything he needed here, didn't he?
The next day, a tutor had arrived for Ainsley. She seemed as excited to be there as Ainsley was, which is to say, not one bit. She would stay for an hour each day, teaching Ainsley the basics of magic. After she left, Ainsley was free until his dad returned home.
Ainsley was an avid reader and would devour any book that his tutor brought. He used his readings to create his own potions and spells. He had even cleared out a spare room (which there was no shortage of as he and his dad only resided in one wing of their crumbling estate) and created his own workshop. There he experimented, creating spells and potions, hoping that one day he could create one that would help him to be truly free.
Quickly, he had read all of the books that his tutor had. She promised that she would go to the library as soon as she could, to get him more. Which led to a discussion on what a library was, which led to her mentioning that there was a muggle library in town, that she passed every day on her trek to his estate.
Ainsley had concocted his plan in that very moment; he was going to visit the muggle library. He had to see what it was like. It was helpful that his dad did not return from work until after five, and the help barely paid notice to him. He decided that he was going to go the next day.
The walk to town was longer than he had anticipated. His own estate spanned acres. When he made it to the small double doors of the library, he was sweating and in need of water and rest. As soon as the doors opened, however, he forgot his troubles. The library was small, but it was magnificent. Books of all sorts covered each wall, which looked like they could collapse any moment by the weight of it all.
Not only did Ainsley discover fantasy, and the escapism that comes with it, he also discovered Darcy. Darcy loved books almost as much as Ainsley did. She was shocked that he didn't know of Charlie or Peter or Matilda, and immediately had him on a classic children's books diet. One tale each night, as needed for imagination.
Her parents weren't around much either, and she spent her time after school in the library. Ainsley found himself spending his time there as well. His potions room soon turned into a library full of books to be read and read again.
His year with Darcy was the best of his life. But, like all good things, so the saying goes, they come to an end. On that fateful day, he and Darcy had been caught up in a debate whether Mrs Trunchbull or Miss Minchin would be a worse teacher and had lost track of time. He had tried to sneak back to his room, but it was too late.
He had never seen his dad so enraged. However, the physical injuries Ainsley sustained would be no match for the mental anguish. Their house-elf had quickly given up Ainsley's whereabouts to his master, including Ainsley's room filled with muggle books and treasures. His dad set the room aflame, as Ainsley watched in horror. All of his books and trinkets; the real magic, gone.
His dad interrogated him for hours about where he got the muggle books. But, Ainsley did not budge. After some time, the cook could no longer handle seeing Ainsley suffer, and blurted that she had seen him with a Muggle girl in town. Ainsley did everything in his power to stop his dad leaving. Nevertheless, his dad overpowered him.
When Ainsley closes his eyes, he can still hear the screaming and see the explosion that had killed so many muggles that day. Including his best friend.
Somehow, his dad avoided prison time. The only explanation that Ainsley could fathom was that their family name kept him out of Azkaban.
Years had passed, and his dad was around less and less. Which Ainsley could not be more thankful for. The Dark Lord was back, his dad would say; you'll never have to mix with the likes of those muggles again. But Ainsley didn't care; he spent his time creating. His original plan still in motion, he was going to be free.
One day his dad came home early in the morning. He was shouting, but unlike usual, he was happy. He woke Ainsley with the good news; Dumbledore was dead. His dad had his own reasons for his excitement; it was one step closer to having the Dark Lord rule. But Ainsley was excited too, for an entirely different reason. He was going to go to Hogwarts.
In any other circumstances, Ainsley would not have been pleased to be grouped with a bunch of 11-year-olds. Even though he was short for his age, he stood out above the group waiting to be sorted. But, he didn't care. He was finally here, finally away from the place he had called home for so long. He was one of the last ones to be called, nervously anticipating his fate.
To his excitement, he was sorted into Ravenclaw. He had read every book about Hogwarts he could get his hands on and felt like Ravenclaw was where he belonged. But it wasn't where his kind went. He was greeted enthusiastically by other Ravenclaws, who apparently did not know who he was.
He quickly settled into his dormitory, getting to know the other boys in his year. On his first night, he was awoken by Amycus Carrow and told to get his things. He was told there had been a mistake, which made him fear that his dad had found out and was taking him home. However, he was told that was not what was happening. The sorting hat that made a mistake; he was supposed to be in Slytherin.
He knew there had been no mistake; it was his dad's doing. He could picture him yelling at how much of a disgrace Ainsley was. They were Selwyn's; heirs of Slytherin. No son of his was going to be anything other than a Slytherin.
The coldness of the Slytherin dungeons was fitting; it did not welcome Ainsley. The Slytherins reminded him of his father, full of hate and vile thoughts. He had tried to talk to the Ravenclaws he had met, but they avoided him. He was a Slytherin now. Ainsley spent his year keeping his head down.
When it came to pass that Harry Potter was in Hogwarts, the school went wild. Eventually, Professor McGonagall sorted everything out. All of those underage or not wishing to fight would leave. Since Ainsley was both of those, he followed her directions.
He waited in Madam Rosmerta's for the fight to be over. Most of the other children had left, their parents coming to rescue them. But Ainsley knew his dad wouldn't be coming. He was fighting for Voldemort, fighting against his schoolmates.
When the news rang out, Ainsley thought this was finally his chance; his escape from this nightmare that his dad had created for him. Voldemort was dead. Ainsley had risen to go. Where, he did not know, but it didn't matter. He could go anywhere he wanted.
Then, there was a bang, and the pub filled with darkness, blinding its inhabitants. He felt a tug on his collar, and suddenly he was twisting through space, no longer in control of where he was going.