AN: Another update for ya'll!
SalemTheSpeakerOfTruth: You will see soon what is up with Lillian's obsession with Wendigos :o) And we both know that the Dark Lord is extremely possessive and does not like to share what he considers his possessions :o)
"...and this is why the last step is to stir counterclockwise thrice. Any more questions?" Lillian let her piercing gaze wander over the group of her Slytherin year-mates. It was a cold Saturday morning and they found themselves in the empty classroom provided to them by their head of house. The tutoring sessions she was ordered to give them were starting to bear visible fruit too. Daphne and Draco were miles ahead of the rest, of course, or she wouldn't have bothered giving them the attention she did. But – and that was the point – almost every single one of the group improved significantly. Even Pansy had her impressed because the only class she still struggled with was Transfiguration. Lillian hated to admit it, but, maybe – just maybe – Pansy wouldn't be entirely useless. So far the apprentice's preference was still to dismember the pug-faced girl and feed the body parts to the beasts in the Forbidden Forest, but slowly that shifted to 'crucio her just because'. She almost felt as if she was getting soft.
None of her 'students' seemed to have any more questions left for this session since there were no hands raised.
"Very well." Lillian started to pack up her notes. "Then we are done for today. Dismissed."
The rustling noise of parchment and clinking of ink bottles being stuffed into backpacks filled the classroom. Being the last to leave, Lillian followed the other teenagers at a leisurely pace. After she had recruited Daphne into her inner circle, nothing much had happened since. The Dark Lord was still in Northern America, as far as she was aware. Neither Daphne nor Draco had had anything to report to her. Umbridge had yet to make moves to take over Hogwarts from Dumbledore. The Prophet had yet to print an article about her childhood.
So, what did one do when there was nothing to do?
"Draco."
Draco stopped his chatter with his friends and turned around to face Dark Lord's apprentice. "Yes?"
"You do not happen to know if your family's library has books on ya sang?"
"No idea. Why?" "What's that?"
"Do me a favour and send an owl to your father. If he finds something about ya sang,he can duplicate it and send me the copy. Otherwise, he can look for it in Knockturn Alley. There is bound to be a shop somewhere selling something."
Turning from Draco to Blaise, Lillian continued. "To answer your question, ya sang is ancient black magic originating in Thailand. It specializes in poisons and curses."
"And you need information on that, because...?"
Scoffing at Tracey Davis, Lillian continued her walk to the Great Hall. "I don't need to know anything about ya sang. It is just mere curiosity, nothing else. Other...magic arts...hogged my attention for a while and now I am busy with reading up on Occlumency and becoming an Animagus. So, I figured, why not read up on something entirely new and foreign?"
"What about voodoo? I don't know much about it but I've heard that it's some serious black magic."
Lillian didn't say anything to Theodore's comment for a while. She didn't enjoy his company or his presence in general ever since he molested her in her sleep. That he didn't actually, vaginally rape her was nothing but luck. The fact that she even allowed him back to her tutor sessions was for no other reason than doing her Lord a favour after he complained about Nott senior complaining about his son not being tutored by her. It was unfortunate that Nott senior was such a valuable enforcer.
"Do you believe in patrons?" Lillian suddenly asked.
"You mean like the Seelie and Unseelie Queen?"
Nodding at Daphne, Lillian continued. "So, you know that some patrons – not all but some of them – are said to represent different branches of magic. Voodoo is especially notorious in that regard, or so I have read. Because of its entirely sacrificial nature, it is said that Baron Samedi – Death itself – is Voodoo's patron. It is said that to be able to practice Voodoo rituals, one has to promise one's soul to Samedi after death."
A small chuckle left Lillian's lips after she finished her explanation. "Now, I'm not sure if there is any truth to it or not, but I'd rather not gamble with my soul." Especially not after the Horcrux ritual.
"Huh...wouldn't have pegged you for a superstitious person," Pansy mumbled, still extremely careful around Lillian.
"That's fair. But, a few years ago, Vampires, Werewolves, Fairies, Wisps...they all were fantasy to me. Now, they and many more such things are real. To think that a higher being resides on a different plane of existence as the patron of a certain kind of magic doesn't seem too far fetched to me anymore. Anyway," Lillian signalled the end of their conversation once they reached the Great Hall for a late breakfast, "don't forget about my request, Draco."
The group then made their way to the Slytherin table, still somewhat deserted as it was a weekend. It was still odd to Lillian how the dynamics in House Slytherin had changed since the Triwizard Tournaments finale last year. Not even a full year ago she had been basically nonexistent to the other Slytherins. They hadn't cared about her and, after initially trying to bully and intimidate her until she retaliated violently, they hadn't bothered her. They had gone about their lives in Hogwarts and she about hers. That was all there had been to it.
But, after she became the Dark Lord's apprentice and had spent her summer at Malfoy Manor tutoring her housemates, it seemed as if everything they did revolved around her in one way or another. Over the course of a single summer holiday, she had rushed from the bottom to the top. If she told them to bow and kiss her feet they would do it. She knew they would. As did they.
Sitting down at their table, they began filling their plates when the daily owl mails arrived, some carrying letters, others subscripted newspapers and magazines.
Lillian didn't pay it much mind, considering her Daily Prophet would be delivered to her any moment now. What did catch her attention though, was the rising sound of students murmuring, of gasps and shocked exclamations. Curious, she looked across her own table and saw that only Daphne had received her Prophet so far and, if the wide eyes, the one shaking hand firmly grasping the newspaper and the other hand covering her mouth were anything to go by, it was not good news.
"What is going on?" Lillian asked curiously.
Pansy shrugged and leaned over the shoulder of her best friend and, mere moments later, the fork Pansy was holding got dropped to the floor.
"Oh, Merlin..."
"M-my...Potter...Lillian, I'm so sorry, I had no idea..."
Lillian gave Daphne a baffled look and glanced around the Great Hall, seeing students whisper and chatter. Fingers were pointed in her direction, teachers looked stricken and shocked, countless pairs of eyes were giving her looks full of pity. She hated it. She hated being pitied, she hated being felt sorry for and there was only one thing – one single thing – that would make people feel that way for her.
And, as if on cue, her newspaper finally arrived. She didn't want to see it. She didn't want the confirmation that, as of today, the entirety of wizarding Britain knew about her suffering, her torture, her humiliation.
Holding her breath, she unrolled the paper after paying the owl and there it was. On the front page, glaring at her, there was the confirmation. They all knew now. Her most intimate secret was out for the world to see and eat up.
Own it. Use it. You are better than this.
The Dark Lord's words ran through her mind like a chant, over and over and over again.
He was right. She had to own it. She had to use it. She was better than this.
Almost mechanically, Lillian put the newspaper on the table with shaking hands, her lips tightly pressed together, her eyes wide and her skin sickly pale. She got up from the table and picked up her bag, leaving for the common room without a word.
SHOCKING REVEAL: GIRL-WHO-LIVED SEXUALLY ABUSED BY MUGGLE CARETAKERS
Lillian didn't know how much time had passed. She was in the girl's dormitory on her bed, wearing her sleepwear and meditating. Not only did it help to improve her occlumency, but it also helped her find her equilibrium.
Never had it felt this hard, though. Her mind was in a state of chaos, a million thoughts running havoc inside her head. A few days ago, her Master's advice gave her confidence, made her feel that she could brave this. But now, actually coming face to face with this situation...it made her feel angry. Vulnerable. Exposed. At times like this, she hated being Lillian Potter. She hated being this poster girl for a group of idiots who latched onto the random luck of an infant that didn't die when she should have.
She hated the obsession the general public had with her private life. She hated her muggle relatives for doing this to her. She hated the muggle neighbours for ignoring the cries of a young girl. She hated Dumbledore for ignoring her pleas for help. She hated, hated, hated.
But most of all, she hated being a disappointment to her Master. So far, Lillian had avoided being exactly that and she would very much like to keep it this way. With a weary sigh, she got up from her bed.
She dreaded going to the common room, dreaded the words of pity and support. They weren't the Dark Lord's apprentice. None of them were marked by him. None of them had his attention as she did.
Taking a deep breath, Lillian jutted her chin out defiantly.
Exiting the dormitory, she quickly made her way to the common room and ignored the sudden silence, deafening as it was. She quickly found 'her' group and walked up to them.
"My Lady, I-"
"Save it, Daphne. I neither want nor do I need your pity. Yes, I had a difficult childhood. But I survived. I came out stronger." Her gaze wandered over the teenagers, her expression not betraying the reeling emotions raging through her. "If any single one of you changes their behaviour towards me even the slightest bit...then they will suffer my utmost displeasure. That is a promise."
She then sat down next to Draco on an empty spot, crossing one leg over the other, her boxer briefs doing nothing to hide her bare thighs. "Draco, how much influence does your father have with the Daily Prophet?"
Thinking for a moment, he shrugged. "Can't say if he has any real influence there, but I do know that he knows some people there, some high-up editors if I'm not mistaken."
"Good enough," Lillian said with a nod. "Ask him to set up an interview with them for me, as fast as possible. I need to use this story to my advantage..."
"How?"
Smirking at Pansy, Lillian leaned back into the couch, a bare foot bobbing up and down as she folded her hands over her stomach. "By telling the public the truth about their leader of the light. By telling the public what kind of savages muggles really are."
"Wait, you aren't really giving them detailed-"
Raising a hand to stop Theo from talking, Lillian scowled at him. "First of all, what's it to you how much of my past I choose to reveal? Secondly, of course, I am not going to give the public a detailed story about what happened to me. Don't be an idiot. All I will do is to give them a rough idea of what happened to me and who was responsible." Lillian went back to comfortably leaning back into the couch. "If there is one thing you need to know about the average citizen out there, it is this: the hearts of men are easily swayed." She said nothing for a few moments, then cocked her head slightly at Draco. "Draco, another thing...tell your father to find out how Skeeter got her hands on this. That woman's obsession with me is becoming a nuisance and I want to know what her secret is. I want to squash her like an insect." Draco gave her a nod but didn't move. "Now!"
At her shout, the Malfoy heir scrambled out of the common room and rushed to the owlery. Lillian glared into the fireplace, her thoughts drifting away, thinking of all the ways she wanted to kill Dumbledore for letting her suffer and her godfather for not leaving her be and putting his nose in places he had no business in.
"Can we...can we do something?" Blaise asked tentatively.
Lillian didn't answer for a while. "No," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Go away."
Not even a whole week later, a reporter of the Prophet arrived at Hogwarts. Lucius had to play his influence to make it happen, but it was what he was good at. She was just glad that it happened so quickly.
She finally reached the empty classroom provided to them for the interview and entered without knocking, greeting the reporter upon seeing her.
"Good afternoon, Miss Potter. My name is Glynda Gibbles. Thank you for approaching us with the interview offer."
Lillian gave a gracious smile. "I figured that, since it is such a vulnerable and traumatizing chapter of my life being slaughtered like this, I should at least add some facts to halt senseless speculations."
"Yes, we are really sorry that-"
"Don't give me that, please. You could have chosen to not print it, yet you still did. You saw a top-selling story and printed it. It's business, I can't blame you for that."
Chuckling nervously, the young reporter motioned for Lillian to sit across from her.
"Shall we start then?"
"Yes, please."
Nodding, the reporter prepared her parchment and dicta-quill. "Let's start with a very basic question. Some say that story is a lie and you paid for it to be printed to get attention."
Lillian raised a delicate brow at that. "Really now?"
"Yes."
"Well, that accusation is preposterous. I wish I did make that up, but, unfortunately, no. I was sexually abused. I was raped. Regularly. From the age of eight to fourteen."
The reporter paled at that. "For six years?!"
"For six years."
"May I ask how it started?"
"No. I have had a mind-healer to talk in detail about what I went through. I have no desire to do that again."
"Understandable of course." The reporter gave Lillian a small smile. "May we get some information on the culprit then?"
"You already know them. They were the muggle family I was dumped at, the family of my aunt from my mother's side. They hated magic. They hated me. They made sure I was aware of that every day."
"So the abuse was not just sexual in nature?"
"Correct. Let's just say the worst treated house-elf is still treated better than I had been treated by those animals."
"How do you feel about their deaths?"
Lillian smiled at that. "The happiest day of my life. Whoever was responsible, I want to thank them."
Coughing awkwardly, the Reporter continued with her questions. "Why did we only now find out about what you had to go through?"
"Important people were aware. They just chose to not do anything about it, like muggle authority figures for instance. Like my teachers from the muggle schools I visited. Or the neighbours. They must have heard my screams but chose to ignore them. However, the most disappointing of all has to be Professor Dumbledore. I am beyond certain that he had people keeping an eye on me over all the years I was forced to stay with my aunt. Once I attended Hogwarts, I had asked several times to not go back to them. He could have at least cut my abuse short by several years. He chose not to."
"Professor Dumbledore knew?!"
"Everything."
"And he...?"
Lillian chuckled mirthlessly. "If I remember correctly, his exact words were 'now, now my girl, I am sure it is not so bad'."
"Unbelievable! The Girl-Who-Lived left abandoned in such an environment and people were fully aware of what was going on!"
"To be fair, Miss Gibbles, the muggles don't care about such titles. They don't know. They fear what they don't understand and do all they can to destroy it."
"Care to elaborate, Miss Potter?" The reporter asked with obvious curiosity.
"It may be an unpopular opinion, but, I think muggles – and I mean strictly muggles, not muggle-born – are dangerous. They hate and destroy what they don't understand, like magic. Just think of the witch-hunts. Think of the wars they wage every day with each other. What do you think they will do if they ever discover Diagon Alley? One bomb could destroy most of magical Britain."
Gibbles appeared to be considering the thought if her squirming in her chair was anything to go by. "That...is actually a scary thought."
"I know." Lillian checked her magic watch before giving the reporter an apologetic smile. "If you don't have any more questions, I think we should end this interview here. I still have some essays I would like to finish."
"Of course! Thank you again for your time, Miss Potter. It was a pleasure, and I want to say that the strength you showed, and show, considering all you had to go through, is really admirable."
"Thank you for your kind words, Miss Gibbles and the pleasure was all mine."
After shaking hands, Lillian left the classroom and the reporter, a self-satisfied smile on her face.
I hope my Master thinks I did well.