I'd just like to thank everyone for their wonderful fb. On with the fic!
***
It's a funny feeling when your world is pulled out from under your feet. It has only happened to me once before with such a vengeance.
Both of my parents were from a long line of wizarding families. They were about as pureblooded as one could get, and as kind-hearted as one can only wish to be. They fought against Voldemort during his reign of terror. Died fighting against him.
It happened when I was four years old. One year almost to the day before Harry Potter defeated that bastard. My mother was an Auror and my father a department head at the Ministry of Magic. The Death Eaters always chose their victims carefully; mudblood, spy, traitor, threat. Each move was so carefully calculated, every intention obscured behind a pack of lies and false promises.
Being both in dangerous professions, my parents took great measures to protect myself and my sister. She was -- is, really -- two years older than me. We spent the majority of our early childhood in Ministry safe houses and other Unplottable places, both unable to imagine life without war.
It was simple enough for Voldemort to gain followers wherever he went, and the Ministry was no closed system. People passed in and out of it daily, half of which who would never return. Refugees, workers, volunteers, prisoners. It was so simple for him to reach someone who could expose some of his most dangerous enemies.
And when they reached my parents, there was nothing anyone could do to stop them. The Death Eaters broke into our safe house quickly, but left very slowly. They tortured my parents with the Cruciatus Curse for hours, my sister and I cowering at their feet.
They didn't bother using magic on us. Manual punishment for being alive seemed well enough for two little girls.
The Ministry didn't react until the next day. Didn't realize that anything at all was amiss until two twisted bodies arrived with the afternoon tea.
Muggles had already picked my sister and I up, left abandoned on the side of a desolate Muggle highway. Someone in the Ministry had decided that it would be best to leave us to their care, unable or unwilling to find us a better living situation. We were each sent to a different orphanage, never to make contact again until I received my letter to Hogwarts.
When we saw each other for the first time in the Great Hall, we both looked to the floor and hurried by as fast as we could.
By then, there was nothing left to say.
***
It took me a while to realize that I had been placed in a private room. I don't know where exactly in Hogwarts this room is placed, but it's quiet and private. I almost never leave the bed, letting the soft weight of the blankets protect me from what is left of the world. Nearly no one visits me.
Even less really know what has happened.
It's the only way I would have it.
I'm at a loss. The world doesn't seem to make sense anymore. Everything has suddenly become cold and cruel. The shadows whisper to me, threaten me. To consume me, drown me in their darkness. And I would let them, because I hate them so much that I couldn't stand their presence a moment longer than I must.
As much as I want to blame Lupin, this was my own doing. I brought this upon myself. I should have. . . I shouldn't have taken Daglash to the lake.
I hate the shadows, but the shadows are myself.
Everything I touch falls apart before my eyes. I am Midas, and everything is cast in a coffin of gold.
***
"Miss Said, no one would blame you if you decide to press charges against Professor Lupin. It would, after all, be perfectly justified."
I glare at Dumbledore. I think he knows that there isn't much of an option, yet he insists on pretending that I have a choice.
"What, and announce to the world that I am a dark creature? And how would that help me, headmaster?"
We have already been through the risks. If it became known that I were a werewolf. . . What would people think? How would I find work? Not to mention the media.
I couldn't bear this horrible nightmare becoming front page news.
"How am I supposed to go on like this?" I lean back against the headboard. "What am I supposed to do, now that I'm a monster?"
Dumbledore smiles and pats the back of my hand. I'm sure that the gesture is intended to be comforting, but it has quite the opposite effect. It makes my skin crawl.
"Lycanthropes are very misunderstood creatures, Miss Said. They are not the beasts that people believe they are."
"Excuse me, professor, but I don't think that you are aware of what kind of ibeasts/i they can be." I pull my hand away. Dumbledore nods sadly.
"Unfortunately, you are very acquainted with the worst part of the species. But think back; Before all of this business had happened, did you ever feel threatened by Professor Lupin?"
No. Of course not. Professor Lupin was. . . kind and sensitive and. . . I look the headmaster square in the eye. "It doesn't matter what I thought then. It's what I think now that concerns me."
Dumbledore stands slowly, retreating, running away. "I'm sorry that you think that. Because he is a wonderful man on every night of the month bar one. It is only on one night that he is a monster."
He walks towards the door, and I refuse to feel any sympathy for that man. That faint twinge in my heart is nothing. Dumbledore smiles at me over his shoulder.
"I think that you will be pleased to know that all of your professors have excused you from final examinations. Your marks as they stand will be your final grades." He steps out through the door, and I barely hear his parting words.
"And Professor Lupin will be leaving Hogwarts promptly."
Somehow, that isn't such a comforting thought.
***
It's a funny feeling when your world is pulled out from under your feet. It has only happened to me once before with such a vengeance.
Both of my parents were from a long line of wizarding families. They were about as pureblooded as one could get, and as kind-hearted as one can only wish to be. They fought against Voldemort during his reign of terror. Died fighting against him.
It happened when I was four years old. One year almost to the day before Harry Potter defeated that bastard. My mother was an Auror and my father a department head at the Ministry of Magic. The Death Eaters always chose their victims carefully; mudblood, spy, traitor, threat. Each move was so carefully calculated, every intention obscured behind a pack of lies and false promises.
Being both in dangerous professions, my parents took great measures to protect myself and my sister. She was -- is, really -- two years older than me. We spent the majority of our early childhood in Ministry safe houses and other Unplottable places, both unable to imagine life without war.
It was simple enough for Voldemort to gain followers wherever he went, and the Ministry was no closed system. People passed in and out of it daily, half of which who would never return. Refugees, workers, volunteers, prisoners. It was so simple for him to reach someone who could expose some of his most dangerous enemies.
And when they reached my parents, there was nothing anyone could do to stop them. The Death Eaters broke into our safe house quickly, but left very slowly. They tortured my parents with the Cruciatus Curse for hours, my sister and I cowering at their feet.
They didn't bother using magic on us. Manual punishment for being alive seemed well enough for two little girls.
The Ministry didn't react until the next day. Didn't realize that anything at all was amiss until two twisted bodies arrived with the afternoon tea.
Muggles had already picked my sister and I up, left abandoned on the side of a desolate Muggle highway. Someone in the Ministry had decided that it would be best to leave us to their care, unable or unwilling to find us a better living situation. We were each sent to a different orphanage, never to make contact again until I received my letter to Hogwarts.
When we saw each other for the first time in the Great Hall, we both looked to the floor and hurried by as fast as we could.
By then, there was nothing left to say.
***
It took me a while to realize that I had been placed in a private room. I don't know where exactly in Hogwarts this room is placed, but it's quiet and private. I almost never leave the bed, letting the soft weight of the blankets protect me from what is left of the world. Nearly no one visits me.
Even less really know what has happened.
It's the only way I would have it.
I'm at a loss. The world doesn't seem to make sense anymore. Everything has suddenly become cold and cruel. The shadows whisper to me, threaten me. To consume me, drown me in their darkness. And I would let them, because I hate them so much that I couldn't stand their presence a moment longer than I must.
As much as I want to blame Lupin, this was my own doing. I brought this upon myself. I should have. . . I shouldn't have taken Daglash to the lake.
I hate the shadows, but the shadows are myself.
Everything I touch falls apart before my eyes. I am Midas, and everything is cast in a coffin of gold.
***
"Miss Said, no one would blame you if you decide to press charges against Professor Lupin. It would, after all, be perfectly justified."
I glare at Dumbledore. I think he knows that there isn't much of an option, yet he insists on pretending that I have a choice.
"What, and announce to the world that I am a dark creature? And how would that help me, headmaster?"
We have already been through the risks. If it became known that I were a werewolf. . . What would people think? How would I find work? Not to mention the media.
I couldn't bear this horrible nightmare becoming front page news.
"How am I supposed to go on like this?" I lean back against the headboard. "What am I supposed to do, now that I'm a monster?"
Dumbledore smiles and pats the back of my hand. I'm sure that the gesture is intended to be comforting, but it has quite the opposite effect. It makes my skin crawl.
"Lycanthropes are very misunderstood creatures, Miss Said. They are not the beasts that people believe they are."
"Excuse me, professor, but I don't think that you are aware of what kind of ibeasts/i they can be." I pull my hand away. Dumbledore nods sadly.
"Unfortunately, you are very acquainted with the worst part of the species. But think back; Before all of this business had happened, did you ever feel threatened by Professor Lupin?"
No. Of course not. Professor Lupin was. . . kind and sensitive and. . . I look the headmaster square in the eye. "It doesn't matter what I thought then. It's what I think now that concerns me."
Dumbledore stands slowly, retreating, running away. "I'm sorry that you think that. Because he is a wonderful man on every night of the month bar one. It is only on one night that he is a monster."
He walks towards the door, and I refuse to feel any sympathy for that man. That faint twinge in my heart is nothing. Dumbledore smiles at me over his shoulder.
"I think that you will be pleased to know that all of your professors have excused you from final examinations. Your marks as they stand will be your final grades." He steps out through the door, and I barely hear his parting words.
"And Professor Lupin will be leaving Hogwarts promptly."
Somehow, that isn't such a comforting thought.