*~* Chapter Four: Growth of Years, Growth of Tears *~*
"Hey birthday boy!" Sirius exclaimed, sitting down on the edge of Harry's bed with a slight bounce, "What, are you going to sleep all day?"
Harry yawned, stretched, and blinked a few times to clear the sleep from his eyes. He looked at Sirius who by all means looked more excited about Harry's birthday than Harry was.
Then again, Harry didn't know Sirius was up to something.
"Hey Sirius" he said drowsily, propping himself up on his elbows as he studied his godfather, "what time is it? You interrupted a good dream."
It was a rather nice dream, actually. He was sitting at the island in the kitchen downstairs, reading the Daily Prophet. Across the room, a light breeze was blowing through the open window, making the curtains sway and the copper pots clank together harmoniously.
At the sink, a tall, slender woman stood, looking out of the window. Every now and then, Harry would look up from the paper at her and smile, even though her back was to him.
It all left him with a sense of peace, of tranquility. And so, when a young child came on the scene, wrapping his arms around the woman's waist in a small hug and looking up at her with a happy grin, he felt even more pleased. The little girl suddenly gave a shriek of laughter as the woman scooped her up in her arms and twirled, skirts swirling, hair flying, and face smiling proudly as she slowed and turned to Harry, opening her mouth to say something . . .
. . . Which was when he woke up.
"Sorry"
"No, it doesn't matter," Harry said, stifling another yawn. "But what time is it?"
"It is . . . a quarter until ten," Sirius answered, briefly consulting his watch. "How about some breakfast? I'll start cooking, and you can come down when you're ready . . . What do you want?"
"Well, what can you make?"
"I can make toast, and cereal, and . . . toast" Sirius replied, somewhat apologetically. "Oh wait, and I can also make sandwiches. Some sandwiches."
"Cereal and sandwiches sound good" Harry said encouragingly. "Go ahead, I'll be right down, just let me get dressed."
Sirius nodded with a smile that seemed a little suspicious to Harry. Shaking away the thought, he changed out of his pajamas and tried (in vain) to get his hair under control. He didn't see why he bothered. The more he tried, the worse it got.
Abandoning the comb, Harry left his room and went downstairs, taking the steps two at a time. Going quickly down the hall to the kitchen, he pushed the door open.
"Sirius? Sirius, where'd you go?" Harry called upon finding the kitchen empty.
Passing the counter, he glanced down at the Daily Prophet, dismissed it as unimportant, and pushed open the swinging door to the dining room.
"Sirius?"
"SURPRISE!"
Harry almost fell backwards at the explosion of greetings. In the dining room stood not only Sirius, but Remus, Ron, Ginny, Fred, George, and Hermione as well. There were presents piled on one corner of the table, and wonderful smelling food on the other. Harry recognized some of Mrs. Weasley's food trays.
"Happy Birthday, Harry! Mum would have come, but she had to go with Dad to some meeting at the Ministry. She did send some food over though . . . "
"Good thing, too," Sirius confided to Ron and Harry, "I couldn't cook anything special if my life depended on it . . . "
Hermione popped up out of nowhere. "Oh Harry, when I saw the news in the Daily Prophet, I was so happy! Congratulations, Sirius!" she said in a rush as she gave both Harry and Sirius a hug.
"Thanks Hermione" Sirius grinned.
"Oy! When do we get to eat the food, Mr. Black, Sir?" Fred called across the room.
"Right now is fine," he laughed, gesturing to some plates, "Go on, eat up"
Needing no further prompting, the group quickly filled their plates with pancakes and sausage links, eggs and hash browns.
"We should probably sit outside," Remus suggested, looking at the dining table crowded with food and gifts.
"Wow Harry," Ron commented as the legendary trio went outside and sat on the edge of the deck, "this house is brilliant! It's so . . . so . . . well, great!"
"It's very pretty," Hermione agreed, looking around the yard. "Is this where your parents lived?"
"Yeah," Harry said, "I just love it here. The attic, the library, the Pitch . . ."
"You have a library?" Hermione asked at the same time as Ron asked, "You have a Quidditch Pitch?"
"Yeah. Maybe we can fly later . . ."
The group lapsed into silence for a bit, concentrating on breakfast rather than on speaking.
"Hey Ron . . ."
"Yeah Harry?" the redhead replied.
"What's with the hat?" Harry had been wondering this for a while now, considering that Ron wasn't one to wear baseball caps.
"Oh, nothing" Ron shrugged in reply. "Just . . . felt like wearing it, I suppose."
* * * * *
"Go on, open it Harry" George urged. Harry looked at Fred and George warily. He wouldn't put it past them to booby-trap the gift.
"Come on, we didn't curse the box," Fred insisted, "promise."
Eyeing the twins suspiciously one more time, Harry tore off the wrapping paper and lifted the cover of the box. Inside was a large assortment of Ton-Tongue Toffees, Canary Creams, Fake Wands, and many other items Harry didn't recognize but were obviously pranks of Fred and George's own making.
"Did you invent all of these?" Harry asked in surprise, lifting up what looked like a stick of chewing gum.
"Yes, they did." Ron answered for the twins.
"Yeah, and we've pre-tested them all, haven't we, Ron?" George grinned at his younger brother.
"Yeah, yeah, you've tested them all." Ron grumbled, pulling off his hat. The room burst into laughter at the sight of Ron's red hair tipped with purple, magenta, and green. "On me, mostly."
"Hey, looking good there, Ron!" Remus laughed.
"Wow, thanks you guys!" Harry said, looking at the items once more before closing the box again.
He had opened his other gifts already; a book, Famous Quidditch Plays and Their Uses, from Ron (it would come in quite handy this year), a large assortment of colored ink and writing quills including quills that corrected spelling as they wrote and black ink that turned red if a fact was wrong from Hermione, plus a big bag of Honeydukes sweets from Ginny.
"This year is going to be plenty interesting, I can tell." Harry added to the twins with a grin.
"We wouldn't have it any other way," Fred said with a wink. Everyone laughed again, and Ron asked, "So Harry, fancy giving us a tour of your house?"
The others began to nod quickly, obviously hoping for the same.
"All right, then" Harry agreed, standing up from where he was seated at the table, "let's go."
* * * * *
A chorus of "Goodbye!" and "Happy Birthday, Harry!" and "See you at 9 ¾!" was the commonly heard farewell at Godric's Hollow that evening as everyone prepared to Floo home. After having gone on a tour (Harry was not surprised at the need to drag Hermione from the Library), the group went out to play a bit of Quidditch. They were happily surprised when Harry got his birthday present from Remus and Sirius; a Quidditch chest containing the balls necessary for a good game. The rotated positions and while Harry remained the best at seeking, Hermione proved to be a fair Keeper, and Ginny, for all her apparent frailty, made a tough Beater.
The night closed with swimming in the large pool and eating birthday cake. Harry couldn't have had a happier birthday, he was certain of it.
"And now Harry, we have one more gift for you." Sirius said when he, Harry, and Remus were the only people remaining. He picked up a small package wrapped in old, brown paper. Sirius looked at it fondly for a moment, then handed it to Harry, who took it and carefully unwrapped it.
It appeared to be an old journal. The cover was made of red leather, and the clasps were tarnished and gave out a small groan as Harry opened the book. He read the first page and then, with widening eyes, flipped through the rest of the book, glancing at the handwritten pages quickly in awe. He finally found the ability to speak.
"This is—"
"The book we wrote to keep track of our progress in becoming Anamagi, yes." Sirius nodded with a grin. "Do you think we'd do all of that and not write down what we'd done? If you follow the directions, you and your friends can become Anamagi too."
Harry gaped at the book, then at Sirius, then again at the journal. All the pages were written in either Sirius' or James' hand, with a few notes by what Harry recognized as Peter's handwriting.
Remus had looked at Harry and, obviously feeling a need to break the silence, put a hand over the pages Harry was reading with rapt interest.
"Now Harry," Remus said when Harry looked up at him, "as your current friend, I feel glad to give this to you. However, as your future teacher, I warn you that if you are caught with this at Hogwarts, it will have to be confiscated. Understood?"
Harry nodded quickly and Remus, with grin, clapped him on the shoulder.
"What are you waiting for, then? Go ahead, read away, that way you can start the magic as soon as you're at Hogwarts!"
Harry grinned and jumped up, giving Remus and Sirius both a hug before going quickly out of his room with the intent of reading the journal cover to cover.
"Are you sure it was wise to give him that? I agree, he loved it, yet . . ."
"Moony, you worry too much. He's a smart kid, and with Hermione helping him out, what could go wrong?"
Their voices faded as Harry went through the kitchen. He was almost to the hallway when he stopped and backtracked to the counter where the Daily Prophet lay unread.
Harry wasn't one to read the Prophet often, but today he felt an unexplainable urge to pick up the paper and flip through the articles. He looked down at the rolled-up post with interest a few moments before grabbing it and continuing his hurried journey up to his bedroom. Putting the journal down on a bedside table, Harry flopped down on his bed and untied the string that confined the newspaper and unfolded it.
"No . . . no . . . boring . . ." Harry muttered, flipping through the first few pages, anxiety mounting as he looked at headline after headline.
MURDERS IN THE MIDWEST: YOU-KNOW-WHO, OR DARK WIZARD WANNABE?
Harry stopped short upon reading the title. It was a very small article, but he knew this was what he was looking for. He didn't know how he knew, but he decided to leave that feeling for later consideration.
Since the return of You-Know-Who late last June, his attacks have been centered mainly in Western Europe, most particularly England. However, a recent attack in the mid-western area of the United States looks suspiciously to be the work of You-Know-Who.
At an unspecified time earlier this week, the wizard village of Saliente was attacked, and half the population was either fatally injured or killed by the Avada Kedavra Curse. Casualties approximated 65.
Not only Saliente, but in what appeared to be a random attack some thirty miles away, more magical deaths occurred. Those killed in the random attack were two muggle adults and a youth. The victims have not yet been identified.
Could You-Know-Who be expanding his attacks? In his reign fifteen years ago, he had stretched his terror as far as northern Africa and eastern North and South America. Perhaps he's working faster than we had anticipated. Then again, it could be an imposter. Certainly, look-alike attacks were common fifteen years ago. Is it a long shot to assume that the same is happening now? Only time can tell.
Harry lowered the Daily Prophet slowly. Two muggle adults and a youth! Voldemort didn't lead random, selective attacks without reason . . .
He looked at the paper again.
"The mid-western United States . . ." Where was Minnesota again? Why didn't he pay more attention in Primary School Geography!?
But no . . . she couldn't be dead, she wouldn't be dead . . . Dumbledore would have told him straight off. But Harry couldn't help but wonder . . .
An unwanted shiver ran up his spine. The attack had been Voldemort's doing, he was sure of it. But had the youth that died been KayKay?
As the article said, only time could tell.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
August 14
Dear Harry,
Why don't you write to me? I must have sent half a dozen letters by now . . . have I made you angry somehow? Or rather . . . are you the sane one of the pair of us, and realize that I may simply be hindering the healing by writing? Oh, I wish I wasn't so confused!
Well, army life is as torturous as ever. Norwood is pushing us even harder than normal, and everyone is on edge. The snarky little Miss Perfect, more commonly known as Madison Jacobs, keeps parading the fact that she's a Pureblood, has millions of galleons, and will be attending none other than Hogwarts this fall, due to her family's tendency to move around on her father's business.
Honestly, she and Malfoy deserve each other.
But far beside that tangent, how was your birthday? I just recently remembered that I'd forgotten to ask, and I assure you now that if I'd had the option, I'd have tried to get you a gift.
My greetings will have to do. Oh, and my warning to be on the lookout for—"
"And what is Private Determan doing tonight instead of going to dinner? Why, she must be writing a letter to her guardians."
KayKay jumped a mile, tipping over her chair in her rush to stand at attention for General Norwood. The menacing man took the half-finished letter from table and glanced over the first few lines.
" 'Dear Harry' " he mocked, starting to read it aloud, " 'Why don't you write to me? I must have sent half a dozen letters . . .' "
He threw the letter, along with seven KayKay recognized as the others she'd written, on the writing table, upsetting the inkwell as he did so.
"Private, explain to me the letter system of this establishment!" He shouted the order, and KayKay stood a bit more rigidly.
"Sir! Letters are to be composed and sent only during mealtimes, and the recipients of the letters are to be the guardian of the Private in question, Sir!" KayKay replied quickly. It felt like a movie, having to use all the formalities such as saluting and saying "Sir" whenever in the presence of the General.
"And your guardians names are George and Susan. Tell me then why all the letters you've sent begin with 'Dear Harry'!" he yelled, spit flying from his mouth as he did so. He looked absolutely insane.
"Sir, because I have . . ." she winced inwardly, "I have disobeyed orders, Sir."
"March, Private! Training course!" Norwood pointed to the door of the falconry barn, and KayKay followed orders, walking out into the night air stiffly and to the obstacle course the man had indicated.
"You are going to run this course until I feel you have had discipline enough, Private! Begin!"
So for the next hour and a half KayKay ran . . . and climbed . . . and crawled . . . and dodged . . .and jumped . . . It probably would have gone on longer if, after jumping down from the scaling wall for the seventh time, KayKay hadn't collided with something rather solid that shouldn't have been there.
"Professor O'Connor!" KayKay gasped, looking up at the headmistress of Escondito from her new position on the ground. "I didn't— I don't— what are you doing here?"
The woman looked grim as she extended a hand to KayKay to help her up.
"All that shall be discussed later, Miss Determan." She replied evasively, stepping in front of KayKay as a furious General Norwood walked quickly over to the pair.
"Private! What is the meaning of this? Continue your laps!"
When KayKay hesitated, he roared, "NOW!"
KayKay continued, working faster than before and ignoring the stitch in her side so she could catch pieces of the conversation passing in between her commanding officer of school and her commanding officer of boot camp.
One lap, " . . . You are not her legal guardian!"
"I am aware of that, but as I said, her guardians . . ."
Two laps, " . . . You mean to say you want her discharged before the proper time!?"
"There is no other option, sir, the legal process will take months as is . . ."
Three laps, " . . . She will not get her full disciplinary training! This delinquent will have not been changed at all!"
"Good Lord, she's not a criminal! She's almost top of her year—girl, stop running this torture course!"
"She is under MY command, she is to follow MY orders . . ."
Four laps, " . . . Private, halt!"
"Sir!"
"You are to go get your knapsack from your bunk and then stop by my office for your early release papers. I expect you there in no less than ten minutes."
KayKay blinked in shock. The General obviously found her still nature annoying, for he barked, "Now, Private!" much sooner than normal. KayKay nodded quickly, dashing away before he could change his mind, trying her hardest to suppress the grin that was already plastered on her face.
She threw open the door to her cabin and grabbed her knapsack, tossing in any of her items that weren't already in it.
"Trying to make a run for it, Determan? You'll never make it past the gates, not when I tell the General. And tonight it isn't too late to be out of bed." Madison taunted happily, sliding off of her place on the top bunk so she was standing on the floor. KayKay whirled around, swinging the pack on her shoulder, and was amused to see the look of confusion on Madison's face when she saw KayKay's smile.
"That's nice, very nice, you do that, Jacobs" she said, patting the shocked Madison on the cheek. "Then the General can inform you of my early release papers, and you can finally feel like the slug you are"
There was a murmur that swept the room when KayKay said "Release papers". KayKay ignored it and walked quickly to the door, turning back and smiling sweetly just before exiting.
"Enjoy Hogwarts, Jacobs" she said, her head tilted to the side. "Be sure to Owl me if the Bloody Baron kills another student this year."
Laughing to herself at the now frightened emotion that, under a less shocked pretense, Madison would normally have been able to conceal, KayKay turned and left. KayKay let the door bang shut behind her as she jumped down the flight of three stairs and set off at a dash for the General's office.
The look on the brat's face! Of course the Bloody Baron never killed a student . . .
But that wasn't what Madison thought.
* * * * *
"Professor, what's going on? What's happened?" KayKay asked tirelessly of Professor O'Connor. Their footsteps clicked against the polished marble floors of Encondito's hallways, and glass lamps burned brightly, casting a warm glow upon the white stone walls.
"Why did you come to get me? How did you even know where I was?" KayKay persisted.
"You shall find," O'Connor answered, directing KayKay down a corridor, "that when someone really wants to find you, it is all too easy. That is the least of your worries right now."
So saying, she turned a brass key in the knob of one of the doors lining the corridor. The door swung open, revealing a bedroom. KayKay looked inside inquisitively then looked back at the headmistress.
"Go on in, go on. What I think you need right now is a good meal, warm bath, and soft bed. You can stay here the remainder of the summer." She said, directing KayKay trunk into the room. With a wave of her wand, it fell to the ground with a soft thud.
"But why do I have to stay here?" KayKay demanded, stomping her foot on the ground, "I mean, yes, I'd rather be here than at camp, but . . . Why won't you ruddy tell me what this is all about!?"
Professor O'Connor merely studied her a moment and said, " 'Ruddy', is it? Well, I'm glad you retained something from Hogwarts, even if it wasn't respect."
Besides this, she made no indication of even hearing KayKay's frustrations.
"A house elf will be here shortly to bring your dinner and draw your bath. In the meantime, feel free to settle in"
With this, the woman swept away and KayKay, growling, slammed the door and kicked her trunk. Why were all headmasters so evasive!? Had it ever occurred to them that knowing the truth could be safer than being left in the dark?
KayKay crossed the room to the large window, stumbling as she passed the bed. Looking down, she kicked the fluffy pink bunny slippers that had caused her to trip underneath the bed with a snarl. Finally reaching the window, she flipped the latch, throwing it open. She walked out onto a small balcony and looked up at the sky, breathing deep of the night air. The stars . . . it hadn't occurred to her before. The stars here were completely different from the ones she'd grown used to at Hogwarts.
In fact (she had to laugh) the schools were completely different as well. Hogwarts was like a tall stone castle, ancient but strong, with stone corridors containing torches in brackets for light. At Hogwarts, the walls were often covered with paintings or tapestries, and the hallways lined with suits of armor.
Escondito, on the other hand, was like a palace-sized mansion. The floors were marble and the walls, soft white. Glass lamps contained flickering fire, and windows were far more prominent than armor.
Of course, the fact that Escondito was located in year-round warm weather may have had something to do with that fact.
"Mistress KayKay? Sinclair is here with yours food, ma'am." KayKay turned her head quickly and saw a tentative house elf entering her room. With a soft grin she straightened and walked back into the room, taking the tray gently from Sinclair.
"Thank you, Sinclair," she said, placing it down at the mahogany desk in the corner.
"Sinclair is most happy to be of service, ma'am. You can just eat yours supper, ma'am, and Sinclair will draw yours bath."
The small house elf tottered off to the bathroom adjacent to KayKay's bedroom, and running water could soon be heard. In the meantime, KayKay looked down at her dinner and smiled in amusement.
A cheeseburger. How long had it been since she'd had one? It was last October, at least . . .
KayKay ate supper quickly and then took her bath, letting the hot water soothe the muscles she thought were past being sore. Her mind was racing with inquires, like why was she here? Why was the headmistress the one to fetch her? Why wasn't she being told all this so her mind could stop hurting?
The parade of questions didn't stop until KayKay, too tired for any more coherent thought, fell into bed and was whisked away by a deep sleep.
She dreamt that the bunny slippers now under the bed came to life and asked her where she kept the butter knives.
* * * * *
"It's about danged time!" KayKay muttered to herself as she flopped into a chair facing the headmistress' desk. After avoiding KayKay for a week under the pretense of needing to go through lengthy paperwork, Professor O'Connor finally called KayKay to her office.
KayKay had occupied her time by exploring the mansion she hadn't been in for nearly a year. She'd visited her team dorm, Bravenheart, pleased to find the dorms exactly as they had been.
The Escondito Teams were much like Hogwarts Houses . . . Bravenheart, like Gryffindor, contained students that were brave and true. Hisidance was like Slytherin, and was composed of people who wouldn't mind resorting to fighting dirty to get what they wanted. Sphinxanor was most fittingly named; sounding like "Sphinx", the magical creature said to be most wise . . . and intelligence was what Sphinxanor prized. Cillphonowyn was the team hard workers were placed on, quite similar to Hufflepuff House. So very similar to Hogwarts . . . almost identical, had it not been for their fifth team, Desirlamorden. Desirlamorden was the team for those that wished, above all else, to help people in any way they could. Sometimes this was good, sometimes bad. Hisidance and Desirlamorden were the Teams that produced Dark Witches and Wizards . . . Hisidance, for that being their nature and Desirlamorden for their wish to assist them.
KayKay thought they were nuts.
"Now, KayKay. I asked you to come here because I'm sure you have many questions—"
"Of course I do!" KayKay interrupted her. "Like why—"
"Please, if I could only finish one sentence! First, I'm going to explain what's happening. I ask you not to bombard me with questions until I am finished. Are we in agreement?"
KayKay nodded to the headmistress, who sat further forward in her chair and leaned across her desk so she could be a bit closer to KayKay.
"Now, I'm not certain of how much you know concerning the Dark Lord, but he, quite naturally, has been terrorizing the Wizarding world with his followers. Now, you must understand that their highest objective is to . . . well, to cause fear. And the easiest way for them to do so is by attacking those we know, those we care about, and by making us fall under the impression that we shall be next."
KayKay nodded in understanding, but for being such a sharp girl, she was being incredibly naïve at the moment.
Professor O'Connor sighed and leaned, if possible, further over her desk.
"I don't know if General Norwood kept you up to date with the wizarding news, but a little over three weeks ago, the wizard village of Saliente was attacked by the Dark Lord and his followers. They killed many of the people."
"Hey . . ." KayKay said slowly, "that's where I get my school supplies! It's only about half an hour from my house!"—The headmistress nodded— "But I don't know anyone there. I'm sorry, but how does this have anything to do with me?"
"Because, KayKay. They also lead a single, random attack about thirty or thirty-five miles away."
KayKay, who had been nodding, froze and began to shake her head slowly.
"No."
"Yes, they did, I'm sorry KayKay."
"No . . . they didn't, they couldn't have . . ."
"KayKay, I'm sorry, I know this must be difficult." Professor O'Connor said gently, placing a hand on top of the one KayKay was clenching the desk tightly with. "We don't know yet why he decided to attack your home in particular, but—"
"Professor Dumbledore!" KayKay exclaimed, jumping to her feet, causing the headmistress to start. "I have to talk to Professor Dumbledore. Right away!"
She looked around wildly and, locating the Floo Powder, grabbed the pouch from over the mantle. If Voldemort had come to her house with the hopes of finding her there and either capturing or killing her, Dumbledore had to be the first to find out. It was the powers . . . it had to have been. Voldemort would find no interest in a single attack upon Muggles if there wasn't a good reason behind it.
"KayKay . . ." the headmistress admonished, wrestling the sack out of KayKay's hands, "KayKay . . . sit DOWN!"
Had Professor O'Connor been at the same ancient age as Dumbledore, she'd have failed miserably. But, as it was, she was NOT as old as Dumbledore, she was only in her twenties, so it was only a matter of time before she succeeded in rescuing the violet bag and steering KayKay to her seat.
"Now," she panted, putting her hands on the armrests of the chair and looking KayKay squarely in the eyes, "this is how I was afraid you'd react. I concur, becoming an orphan is a hard thing to face—"
"A WHAT!?" KayKay yelled, standing so fast that Professor O'Connor jumped back and KayKay's chair clattered to the ground. The teacher maintained her composure, acting as though this was nothing unusual.
"An orphan, dear, an orphan. Don't worry, I already have half the paperwork done to find you a nice orphanage to live in during summer vacation, and—"
"I AM NOT AN ORPHAN!" KayKay shouted.
"KayKay, the last of your family was just killed at the Dark Lord's hands. You have no family left."
KayKay threw her headmistress a dark glare.
"I am NOT an orphan." She repeated. " I have an uncle, and believe me, he'd be more than happy to—"
"You most certainly do not! Child—"
"And don't call me a child, you're not even ten years older than I am!"
"You're certainly acting like one! Now for the last time, sit down before I feel the need to call up the nurse to subdue you!" The headmistress was fuming, and KayKay would have been a fool not to take her threat seriously. Picking up her chair as noisily as she could, KayKay flopped into it unceremoniously and crossed her arms over her chest.
"I DO have an uncle, he IS real, he WOULD love to be my guardian, and I am NOT making any of it up." KayKay said darkly.
"There is no evidence of that." Professor O'Connor replied, sitting on the edge of her desk and crossing her arms over her chest in a similar fashion.
"You want evidence? I have evidence! His name is Remus Lupin! He was my mother's younger brother, and he went to Hogwarts—"
"Your family lived in America. Why then would he attend Hogwarts?"
"Because he's a Werewolf, and no other schools would accept him, but Professor Dumbledore gave him a chance, and he's brilliant! He's a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and before that, he was an Auror. He'd visit the family when I was younger, but the Christmas everyone else died he wasn't there because Christmas Eve was a full moon. I'd always call him Uncle Remmy, and—"
"Enough!" Professor O'Connor rubbed her temples as if she was getting a splitting headache. "We have found no records of your mother even having a younger brother, let alone a Werewolf. I know being an orphan seems scary, but it is no reason to make up stories—"
"It ISN'T a STORY! My mother's maiden name was Lupin! You can't deny that—"
"I said, ENOUGH! I'd expect this disrespect from a Hisidance, but not from a Bravenheart such as yourself! Now, go to your room. I've explained why you're here, and that should be good enough for you. I said, GO!" she roared when KayKay opened her mouth to protest. "I'll inform you when your first government custody meeting is once it's scheduled!"
Glaring at the headmistress angrily once more, KayKay stood up and left, kicking her chair over as she passed it and slamming the door behind her so hard that the windows shook.
So, she was telling stories, was she? Professor O'Connor would see . . . KayKay vowed to think of a way.
She'll see! KayKay thought viciously, slamming the door of her room shut with angry conviction. Inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm herself, KayKay leaned against her door. Squeezing her eyes shut tightly, she willed the room to go away, for her to go away, for the knowledge to go away, for anything to go away that could make this easier.
. . . How? How am I supposed to prove she was telling the truth?
Thinking of what to do now that those whom she'd called her guardians for half her life were gone made it so final, so absolute. They were dead. Dead. Dead at the hands of Voldemort.
And it was her fault.
Her knees gave way as the sunk slowly to the floor, her back sliding silently down the length of the door until she was hunched over, arms hugging her knees, head bowed, eyes stinging with unsummoned tears.
KayKay had never felt any particular endearment to what could be called her family. They had never treated her kindly, it had always been clear they felt her a burden. Still, they were family. And while in the past KayKay may have hoped she could somehow escape, never see them again . . .
. . . She'd never wished them dead.
And now they were.
Because of Voldemort.
Because of her.
A tremendous fury filled KayKay. With a growl of anger that quickly escalated to a shriek of rage, she launched herself to her feet and began to ransack her room, sweeping everything off of her desk, pulling out drawers and throwing them against the wall, knocking over her nightstand, and taking glass lamps and throwing them at the ground. The sounds of busting glass and snapping wood didn't calm her. They, in fact, drove her even crazier; she yanked a mirror off the wall and slammed it against the floor, making glass shatter and fly. Storming to the bathroom, KayKay wrenched the door open and attacked the shampoo bottles, the shower gel, the lotion, the toothpaste, and any other things she could get her hands on, unscrewing the covers and brandishing the objects like swords, painting the walls with the conglomeration of products. Plugging the drains of both the tub and the sink, she turned on the water as high as it would go, before leaving the bathroom and grabbing books from shelves, and alternately ripping out pages and tossing them across the room. One of the books hit the bay windows and broke a pane of glass, drawing KayKay's attention to the balcony. Yanking the curtains down with the sound of tearing fabric, KayKay flipped the latch and pushed her way out, the windows banging loudly as they hit the side of their frame.
She threw out her arms against the balcony railing to stop her momentum as she looked down at the lawn, many stories below her.
It was because of her.
The tears finally came. Collapsing against the railing, KayKay made no attempt to stem the flow. They may have been rude. They may have been unloving.
But they were her family.
And as the sky grew dark, and the stars came out, KayKay felt that she needed her wish upon the bright star she saw on her birthday to come true, now more than ever.
How could Harry hold all this inside? He'd been through the same, hadn't he? Cedric and the Triwizard Tournament? Still, he remained calm and in control of what he must have been feeling.
She could assuredly use his help now.
* * * * *
"We find no evidence that you are related to a Mr. Remus Lupin."
KayKay growled at the social worker and let her head fall to the desk with a loud thud. Lifting it a few inches she repeated the motion . . .and again . . . and again . . .
"Ms. Determan, will you STOP!" the wizard exclaimed, waving his wand to conjure a pillow between KayKay's head and the desk.
KayKay mumbled something into the pillow.
"I'm sorry, what was that, Ms. Determan?"
"I said THIS DANGED MINISTRY IS BLOODY DYSFUNCTIONAL!" KayKay yelled, attracting the attention of many other witches and wizards around them. The social worker looked very nervous.
Good, KayKay thought, I'm making him unsure of himself.
"Please, please, Ms. Determan, keep it down. There's no need to—"
"OH PLEASE, MS. DETERMAN, PLEASE! DON'T LET MY PEERS KNOW THAT I CAN'T HANDLE ONE ANGRY TEENAGER! OH! OH MS. DETERMAN, WE HAVE NO RECORDS OF YOUR UNCLE WHO IS STILL VERY MUCH ALIVE!" KayKay mocked. She grinned viciously as the man blanched, "HAS IT OCCURRED TO YOU, PERHAPS, THAT THE REASON YOU DON'T HAVE A RECORD OF HIM IS BECAUSE YOU DISPELLED IT? PERHAPS BECAUSE HE WAS A WEREWOLF, OR MAYBE BECAUSE HE MOVED TO ENGLAND, OR POSSIBLY BECAUSE HE'S FROM A MUGGLE FAMILY!?"
She was leaned far forward in her chair, body as tense as a tiger ready to pounce upon some pitiful, defenseless prey.
"I am not yet an orphan," she hissed. "I am not an orphan until Remus dies. So stop classifying me as such, and take me for what I really am; a frustrated teenager ready to attack the next thing that says I'm lying about all of this."
Her return to a quieter demeanor obviously had lulled the wizard into a false sense of security. Giving her an annoyingly fake smile that she was sure he intended to be comforting, he pulled out a pad of paper and opened his inkwell, scribbling notes quickly with his quill.
"Now, Ms. Determan. Here is a paper." He said, holding out the slip, which she took sharply, "Bring it to the third floor for an appointment with the psychologist."
KayKay jumped forward and, with a snarl, tore up the paper into tiny pieces and threw it into the man's face.
"I DON'T NEED A BLOODY PSYCHOLOGIST!" she roared. Pivoting quickly on her heel, she stormed away from the desk and pushed open the door to the main hall so fast that she almost squashed the nose of Professor O'Connor, who didn't appear very pleased.
"KayKay . . ." she said, exhaling with a sigh.
"I don't care! I don't care what they say, what you say, what ANYBODY says!" KayKay exclaimed angrily, striding past the headmistress and punching a button for the elevator.
"I know." She replied, moving to join KayKay. "I was simply going to note how terrified the poor man was of you."
KayKay looked at her headmistress. While the woman's face was carefully masked of emotion, a small twinkle in her eye lead KayKay to believe that Professor O'Connor was as amused at KayKay's ability to scare the social worker as KayKay was.
"Well, that's one trip down the drain." She said to KayKay later, after they'd flooed back to her office. "First term starts in three days, so next time will have to be during school. I'm not sure when I'll be able to get an appointment, but I can assure that I'll be remaining with you this time, and I expect you to have a better temper."
"Yes ma'am" KayKay muttered.
Later, by the palm trees on the lawn, KayKay laid on her back in the cool grass, gazing up at the twinkling stars.
No letters from Harry. No miraculous visits from Dumbledore. No proof Remus was her uncle.
"I guess I must be wishing," she said to herself softly, "on someone else's star."
