Chapter 19 – Building the Bridge
Carrying her invisibility cloak all the time was serving Lizzie well, particularly so when she felt the need to wander into the restricted section of the library without a note. Since she'd been back on campus, she pulled down and read through a handful of books she uncovered on dopplegangers, what Victor referred to as Vedmas and Vedmaks, Dybukks, Bua me, Ragana, Hexe, and other names for what appeared to be the same thing across numerous cultures, despite each having their own take on origins.
The premise was the same in each, a split soul of a witch or wizard - primarily witches in most cultures - as a result of murder. Muggles believed them to be the witches themselves and it was a great source of fear and persecution throughout history. These splits led them to their demise, or coerced them take sinister actions against others, and then took over their bodies once they died. Some were created to carryout vengeful tasks, others were said to result exclusively when a woman killed her children, and some were explained as lures for sinful men.
Lizzie started charting out the similarities and came to the conclusion it was all the same, just being interpreted through the lenses of folklore and religion. She then stumbled across and pulled a book on death magic that had ear marked pages already flagged which discussed the conditions in which these spirits were born, and immediately lifted it from the restricted section to show Hermione.
"Listen to this," Lizzie said, pulling off the cloak in the corner Hermione had barricaded herself into study.
"Jesus, Liz, warn me you're coming under that thing, scared the life out of me," she whispered harshly.
"Oh shush... Listen to this," Lizzie said again impatiently.
Most forms of dark magic will leave lesions on the soul of the conjurer due to the exchange required to use of this form of magic. The exchange is always of equal proportion to the consequential nature of the acts committed. The only known act to completely sever a portion of the sorcerer's soul is that of murder committed with pure malice.
The severed portion of the soul will take the form of the conjurer but embody only their traits that are inherently evil. This embodiment can do no harm completely on its own but compels the witch or wizard to act out the sinister intentions on their behalf. The goal of the severed soul is to see either the demise of the conjurer to satisfy the exchange or obtain a victim of equal value. They will then assume the body and mind and retain their power. When the witch or wizard instead decides to kill this severance, its body can be animated as outlined in conjuring an inferious.
When a witch or wizard instead wishes to keep their severed soul, they must make a separate exchange with it. The body of the victim that created the debt is offered in their place. Upon consuming that body, the severed soul ceases to be a threat to the conjurer as they have successfully satisfied their debt. The sorcerer then conceals that portion in a vessel, a vessel referred to as a Horcrux, where they wait for the sorcerer's body to parish before they reassume their full form and become a new outlet for their mind and power.
Lizzie finished reading. "I think I'm getting warmer..." she said, Hermione was rereading the passage intently but still appeared confused.
"I don't know anything about this kind of magic, Lizzie, but it's permanently damning from the sound of it, you really think this is what happened?" She asked incredulously.
"I think... I don't know what I think..." Lizzie admitted, rubbing a headache out of her temples to no avail.
"What does Dumbledore think?" She asked.
"I don't know... I tried bringing it up, but he changed course, got a strange vibe from him that he was being evasive about it," she said. Hermione grimaced apologetically in response.
"Don't you have to go tonight?" Hermione asked. Lizzie sulked.
"He's not here, Snape is doing occlumency tonight," Lizzie admitted. Hermione stared back sympathetically. "Wish me luck," Lizzie smiled back weakly.
"Sit," Snape said coldly and his eyes lingered on her for what felt like an eternity. "Dumbledore explained his theory about bridging the divide now that it's remotely possible," he explained. "I agree it may help and for the first stretch I do not want you to resist, do you understand?"
"Are you admitting that you continued occlumency last year just for shits and giggles, at my expense?" Lizzie asked bitterly. He glared back reprovingly but didn't say anything. "Do feel free to continue to dismantle my survival mechanisms..." she grumbled, "sir," she added when he stared coldly.
"Are you ready then?" He asked, already annoyed with her. Lizzie clenched her jaw and looked away but nodded a moment later.
"Legilimens..."
It started with a faint outline of Snape addressing Voldemort through blurred vision, and voices through muffled damaged eardrums. The door clicked closed and she trembled violently, Lizzie struggled and screamed though a mouth she couldn't open. Just a touch was a soul splitting amount of pain and he kept her under his cruciatus until everything around her went black. The images raced through her mind of every violation she's ever felt, every man she even shook at the sight of, but this time it was him and he was making her relive everything all at once. She opened her eyes a sliver from the ground she was now curled up on, it was as though her body was consumed by flames but packaged neatly in a thin layer of relatively untarnished skin. Then she was picked up by the arms and there was a harsh scream and echo of one of Marge's dogs barking in the back of her head. Vernon was holding Lizzie back by the arms in a tight grip while Marge prodded her in the stomach with something. 'Embarrassment... complete... embarrassment..." her words were as sharp and mean as each jab between them, and the voltage from each shock was making Lizzie tremble violently. She was bitten from the inside with the same quick repetitive motions of the prod Marge used to tame her dogs. Bellatrix's cackling, the dogs barking, fragmented words echoing.
The barking suddenly became so loud not a single word could be made out and her legs buckled under her.
Images flashed so quickly, like a bad drug trip, the only thing distinguishable was her uncle sitting in a chair in the corner of the room staring with malice and anticipation. His face started to look like Voldemort's as her consciousness fell in and out of both Privet Drive and Malfoy Manor.
Her eyes shot open in a muggle hospital room, but nobody was around. There was a small stuffed animal on the nightstand with a note that read 'you'll stay with me. - Claire' and a young girl, no older than twenty-one was talking to a pair of muggle police officers outside of her room. One sat down next to Lizzie's bed to ask her questions, but she couldn't talk. Pictures of her brain were on the lighted wall in front of her and a doctor described that the right side was normal for an eleven-year-old, but the left was Lizzie's and it far more resembled that of a deceased eleven-year-old. Claire's face was swollen on the side like she'd been hit. 'I'm mmm s-sorry,' Lizzie choked, but she shook her head a rubbed Lizzie's cheek fondly, 'It's ok.' In the next flash Vernon was driving her home with a threatening silence.
Next, they were in a bathroom, Lizzie was scrunched up on the floor with her back to the cabinet. He sat across from her using the toilet as a chair and held out a palm with three pills. The bath water was running, and Lizzie shook her head in tears staring between the flowing faucet and the pills.
"I'm not offering," he said coldly. Lizzie took the pills when he grabbed for his belt lying coiled on the ground. She popped them in her mouth, and he turned off the faucet, pulled her over to the side of the tub, and placed a heavy hand on the back of her neck. The water was far too hot, and her mouth trembled.
"Hope you don't get too tired," he said close to her ear and pushed her head down into the water harshly. One hand held her wrists against her back and the other yanked down her knickers. She was almost completely detached from the pain and focused only on staying conscious so she didn't drown. He could feel her body going limp and yanked on her hair for air but her response time slowed. Then she was on her back on the cold tile choking on the water while he stood over her. Losing the battle with the sedatives, the last thing Lizzie saw clearly was a milky eyed copy of herself crawling out of the bathtub toward her. But it became the blurred outline of Petunia who patted her face with a cold towel, pulled off the rest of the wet clothes, and replaced them with something dry. Petunia's breathing was hoarse and she started to cry when she saw the bruising. She lifted the limp little girl into her arms, rocked her, and repeatedly muttered 'I'm sorry' just below a whisper, and shook while she held her. 'Lily, I'm sorry.' The surroundings disappeared and an older Petunia was now crying erratically in the trashed living room at Privet Drive over the preceding summer. The sound of glass resounded louder than any of the screams between them as Lizzie smashed every picture. Then the look on Vernon's face froze for the moment in time when she poisoned his IV.
Lizzie was now a little bit younger, Snape recognizing her as fourteen or fifteen, the scars from the graveyard not yet inflicted. Vernon handed the man next to her a brandy, and the man leaned in close to her face moving hands up the hem of her dress. They said something about a marriage license and Snape took this to be the man he signed her over to years prior. He leaned forward and caught her eyes as the kitchen table disappeared and he was losing control of his car. Last thing heard was Lizzie's scream at the sight of his skull cracked and welded to the steering wheel.
Snape stopped, for his reprieve more than hers, and turned away so she couldn't see his reaction. When he turned back around, he noticed Lizzie was on the ground propped against the chair, struggling to keep her eyes open.
"Azalea?" He asked, and crouched down in front of her. He tapped her face for response, then caught her before she hit the floor. His shoulders sunk and he sat down on the cold ground, devoid of any strength to carry her anywhere. Lizzie's body fell lifelessly to the side over his knees, and he stared down at the back of her head absently. The only thing running though his mind for several moments was of Petunia apologizing to her sister. Shame is a fickle thing. It is always so much easier to hate those who make you feel it, he thought, and set a hand carefully down on her head.
Snape got up after some time, leaving Lizzie peacefully on the ground while he sent for Tonks to come get her.
Tonks took a look at Lizzie and glared back at Snape reproachfully.
"What happened to her?" She asked, attempting to wake her up.
"Occlumency. Dumbledore doesn't want her to resist it yet,"
"Why, so you can know all there is to know?" Tonks sneered.
"So she can learn to shut it all down instead of wasting her energy on concealing pieces she wants to hide," he explained coldly.
"When did you and Remus let her leave to murder her uncle and that doctor?" He asked, thinking Tonks didn't know.
"She snuck out in Bulgaria, Remus was furious. But surely she didn't kill both. She only told us about Vernon," Tonks said, looking down at Lizzie with trepidation.
"Her memories prove otherwise," he said slowly.
"Why is she fainting like this? It happened with Dumbledore too," Tonks asked, not having any luck getting her to wake up.
"She's turning her mind off to protect itself. It's also weaker after what the dark lord did to her, even Potter can't walk away from the cruciatus and mind possession without permanent damage," he explained.
"Can you give her anything? Should I take her to Poppy?" Tonks asked.
"She's safer in her own bed, she'll sleep this off and regain her capacities," Snape insisted. Tonks nodded with a clenched jaw and cast a feather charm to carry her weightlessly back up to Gryffindor Tower.
Ginny was sitting in Dean's arm while Ron and Seamus played wizards chess on the coffee table in the common room. Hermione was reading through the books Lizzie had snagged and startled when she saw Tonks enter with Lizzie.
"What happened?!" Hermione said panicked. The others looked up and closed in to see what was wrong.
"She's cold," Ginny said, touching her hand.
"She's tired," Tonks said dismissively. "Hermione, can you show me upstairs? Need to get her into bed," she asked.
"What happened?" Ron asked. Tonks sighed.
"Occlumency..." she said quietly so only the few of them heard.
"Why is she like this though? Snape did the lessons all last term and she wasn't like this," Hermione whispered back.
"She's shutting down. Nobody is supposed to survive what she has," Tonks said grimly.
"She's not dying though?" Hermione asked nervously.
"I don't know," Tonks admitted sadly, and cocked her head toward the stairs. Hermione and Ginny went up and got her in bed. Hermione stayed with Lizzie until she turned in for bed herself, reading more thoroughly through the stack of books Lizzie had collected.