Who Knew?

Copyright@Emma -specializes in One-Hit-Wonders



Enchantment. Charm. Magic. Power.

I had it all. Everything. All of the power, all of the -everything- I could ever wish for. Ever want. Ever desire. Ever need.

One little change. Just one little change, and everything goes -poof-.

No. More like -POOFBANGPOWKABLOOE!-

How is it that I could just let everything go because of one little stupid thing?

One little stupid...emotion.

My father once told me that to have emotion is to be weak.

I am not weak.

I do not have emotion, or feelings.

And yet, I must. I must be weak.

I lost everything because of my sodding -weakness-.

Tears have flown from my eyes, blood has run from my wrists in frenzied rivers.

I am weak.



If I had only stopped before I'd gotten to Shirby.

If I had taken a break, and let the men continue on, I wouldn't be laying here.

Near dead.



Shirby. A quiet little house with neat little windows and a white picket fence.

That house...my downfall. Who knew that something as unequivocal as a -house- could set me so far back...

But it wasn't the house. It was the essence of the house. The feel.

That house wasn't just a regular house.



It wasn't a hard job I'd been given, especially considering all I'd had to do in my past. Burglary. Fraud. Forgery. Murder.

Nope, it was a cinchy project and I'd blown it off like leaves on a fall morning. It'll be nothing, I'd said.

So much for -that-.



I walked up to it, and took a deep breath. Sure, it had memories instilled in it. Thats what we were here for after all, wasn't it? We were patrolling for memories, to ensure that everything that was still sitting in the homes - which definitely wasn't anything living - couldn't escape to the outside world and leak out secrets. Ghosts. Apparitions. Spirits. Whatever you call them, they were a danger to us and we knew exactly how to exterminate them.



Unbeknownst to us, that house didn't have the run-of-the-mill supernaturalists.



I walked inside, and knew exactly where I was. I had only been told that it had been a house once belonging to a "special victim." As soon as I walked in, I knew that "special" wasn't even in the same ball-park as this house.

I immediately felt a sort of tugging in my chest. I told myself to ignore it, that hopefully it was just an impending heart problem.

Unfortunately, that is where my -weakness- kicked in.



Godric's Hollow.



Who knew?

I did.

And yet, I didn't want to believe it. I hadn't stood in it ever before, and I hadn't known of its location until this very moment.

How were we - the team and I - supposed to rid this home of memories, when memories was instilled in the very walls, in the -paint- of the structure?



Another tug at my heart.

Ignore it.

Another.

Ignore it!



Whispers in my ear, soft and seething.

-You killed my son.-



I couldn't stand it. I ran out.

I accepted defeat.

I accepted weakness.

Unfortunately, those with whom I work do not accept defeat. Do not accept weakness.

I never had been particularly liked within my group. Always called "a bit of a know-it-all."

Sticks and stones, this name had never pestered me to the point of breaking down in nervous tears and a bad case of the shakes.



They left me like this. My team left me like this. Because of my weakness.

Because of my -emotions-.

Who knew?