Posted 06/05/2016

.

This is a work of fiction, based on the book series by J.K. Rowling. Neither do I claim ownership nor do I intend to.


Chapter Eighty-One - Pansy and the Future

.

The exams were upon them, and it wasn't hard to tell. Wherever Pansy went, people had their noses stuck in books. Everyone she talked to was stressed, perpetually distracted or close to a nervous breakdown. Pansy was no different, really, sitting in the library to study for her own exams, but she found it hard to focus on the assignment in front of her.

And yet, Hogwarts seemed oddly peaceful. Hardly anyone was pranked, almost no one duelled in the hallways. Compared to previous years, it was a completely different experience, and one Pansy wasn't sure she liked all that much. Sure, it meant less work and barely any need for her to step in as a Prefect, but she also knew the rebellious spirit among the students wasn't gone. It was the strict discipline that kept them in line. It was the fear of severe punishment that stopped any misbehaviour. People didn't change overnight. Not even a year under the Dark Lord's rule was enough to groom the youth into obedient servants.

Sure, some were very willing to join. Some were jumping at the chance to serve a greater power; some discussing plans to prove themselves to the Dark Lord when they thought they were alone.

A year ago, Pansy would have been among them, but not any more. Hogwarts was dead inside, as far as Pansy was concerned. The professors were either scared into servitude or supporting the Dark Lord. The corridors were eerily deserted most of the time, people hurried to their classes or common rooms and avoided the casual chats that had been common in the past. The only ones lingering in the corridors were bad news and looking to harass other students, usually in the knowledge that they wouldn't get punished for it. With Professor Carrow's permission, the strong lorded over the weak.

For days, Pansy had tried to tell herself that was the reason for her growing nervousness. People didn't change overnight, and even though the weak were on the ground, every kick, every insult would be remembered.

Pansy wasn't stupid. She considered herself quite clever, and although Wizarding History hadn't captivated her, she remembered enough about it. With Binns as the professor at the time, most of it had been about Goblin rebellions, and back in the day, Pansy had agreed with Draco that goblins were ungrateful, untrustworthy and worthless. Now, she wasn't so sure about that. After all, Magical Britain had gone back on a few promises and had a history of not caring much about goblin affairs.

If goblins rebelled, why wouldn't the weak and downtrodden? And if it came to that, if the students of Hogwarts rose against the Dark Lord's servants in their midst, what would happen? What had happened to the goblins whenever they rebelled?

Lost in thought, Pansy turned a page. Simple warding against non-magical fire. Maybe that would do the trick. Judging by the little tears in the page, she probably wouldn't be the first to hand in an essay about modifying that particular bit of magic, but she didn't care.

Protection from Fire, she wrote, already working out the essay in her head. Potions might offer some insight. Surely someone had invented a fire-protection draught or something. And she was fairly sure she had seen a reference to some runes two or three years ago, so there was that.

"Parkinson," someone said behind her, making her jump in her seat.

With a glare, she turned around to come face-to-face with Lloyd Travers. Was it wrong of her to hate him for his shiny Prefect badge? Hers had been like that once, but once she had realized Prefect was as much a chore as it was an honour, she had stopped polishing it to perfection.

"What is it?" she snapped, trying her best to give the boy her most condescending glare.

He was unperturbed. "Professor Carrow wants to see you." Before she could ask, he added, "Professor Alecto Carrow."

Biting back the insult she desperately wanting to throw in his face, Pansy packed up her belongings as slowly as she could. Travers stayed, and Pansy rolled her eyes. When she couldn't delay her departure any longer, she left, Travers following her.

"I'll find her on my own, thank you," she hissed.

"I have my instructions," Travers replied with all the authority of a pimply sixteen-year-old.

"I'm sure you do," Pansy told him with another roll of her eyes, but stopped herself from saying any more when Astoria rounded the corner little more than twenty feet from them.

"Travers," Astoria greeted, "Pansy."

"Greengrass," Travers replied with a stiff nod and a dishonest smile but they didn't stop for a chat.

The meeting with Astoria cheered Pansy up. In little more than a month, Pansy would take her N.E.W.T.s, and after that, she'd leave Hogwarts for good. Barring any run-ins during in summer, she had a long time ahead of her without having to look after Astoria. She'd be free to do whatever she wanted.

That thought gave her pause. To do whatever she wanted? She didn't know what she wanted.

Well, that wasn't true, she mused. She knew what she wanted, but she was torn between two paths.

On one hand, she had grown up wanting to be a proper pureblood. She wanted to fit in, she wanted to be part of society, which meant hating Mudbloods and Blood traitors. She could see herself working for the Ministry; the Dark Lord's purifying had left many open spots and good opportunities. Pansy had the right background, she had enough influential acquaintances. And she might even do some good on the side, maybe bend the laws in some places to help people in need, even if they couldn't repay her on the spot. A Parkinson pulling strings would be dream come true.

On the other hand, she'd be free – mostly, at least. She'd be free to go wherever she wanted. She could go abroad if she chose to. She could rent a flat in Diagon Alley or even some Muggle settlement and learn more about the world she was born into. Or she could do what she truly wanted – finding Daphne. Ever since Astoria had claimed that her sister was still alive, Pansy had clung to that hope. Maybe her friend really was alive somewhere. Maybe she had gotten away from Britain and was somewhere nice and sunny? Maybe she hadn't contacted her friends to protect them in case her letters were intercepted?

More than once, Pansy had dreamed about meeting Daphne again. Sometimes, Daphne had welcomed her friend with open arms. Sometimes, Daphne had shouted abuse in Pansy's face for ever believing Draco's lies. Pansy knew she could accept that outcome as long as she'd get to see Daphne alive again.

Side-stepping a burly Ravenclaw stumbling out of a hidden passage, Pansy turned the corner. With Travers still trailing behind her, she reached Professor Carrow's classroom before long and decided to think about her plans for the future some other time.

Walking in, she blinked in surprise. Professor Carrow wasn't alone. Noticing her arrival, she spared Pansy a quick glance that had her wait at the door before the professor turned back to Draco.

Pansy knew she shouldn't be surprised. Draco worked for Professor Carrow, she knew as much.

Whatever they were talking about, it seemed they were almost done. With her back to Pansy, Professor Carrow spoke; Draco listened. Even without hearing anything, Pansy could tell he was given orders. He didn't smile; he paid close attention.

When she was done, Professor Carrow handed Draco an envelope. Smirking, he said something Pansy didn't catch before bowing curtly and turning to leave.

"See to it that you don't," Professor Carrow called after him.

When he barely acknowledged Pansy as he passed, she felt a faint sting in her chest, but pushed the thought aside.

"Miss Parkinson," Professor Carrow greeted her, waving for her to come closer.

When she had reached the desk, the professor nodded to Travers. "You may go now," she told him, "thank you."

"A good boy, that Mr. Travers. He's dedicated; he follows orders," the professor continued in an off-handed manner. "Mr. Malfoy, as well. You know him well, don't you?"

Pansy forced herself to smile. "We're in the same house and year, yes."

"They're both eager to prove themselves," Professor Carrow continued. "How are you doing?"

Caught off-guard, Pansy managed to not show her confusion. "Fine, thank you. Err, Professor –"

"Miss Parkinson," the professor interrupted, pursing her lips, "I am the Deputy Headmistress. I have to keep the order at Hogwarts. To that end, I have to rely on the Prefects. You are one of them, and that position is meant to prepare you for the life after Hogwarts. You were made Prefect because you were seen as a responsible student and potential authority figure. Do you feel you are living up to the expectations placed upon you?"

Pansy made to answer, but hesitated. "I've done what I felt was right," she replied, careful to keep her voice calm. "I treated others fairly and respectfully. I don't think any complaints about my work are justified."

"I disagree," Professor Carrow told Pansy. "It's not your behaviour, but your performance that brought you here. It is in part your fault that Mr. Longbottom and his co-conspirators escaped."

"I – "

"You," Professor Carrow said, raising her voice, "allowed yourself to get stunned."

"Th-they got me in the back," Pansy tried, her voice quivering as her heart raced in her chest.

"They did, yes," Professor Carrow agreed with a nod and a glare that froze Pansy's insides. "And what does that tell me about you? What does that say if one of the Prefects is that easy to overcome? What kind of respect will you instil if you are that weak?"

"I-I made a mistake," Pansy defended herself. "I'll do better from now on."

Professor Carrow shook her head with a sigh. "I wish I could believe you. In little more than a month, you will graduate. If it weren't for that, I'd have taken your badge weeks ago. I should, though. I'm disappointed. I expected more from you, not a blunder like that. I'm not sure you have what it takes to be an authority figure. I'm not sure you are strong enough to sit your exams and be the Prefect I need to keep this school in line. Right now, you are a liability. I don't see the dedication I need from my Prefects. I don't see any future for you, not here at school nor in the wider society. It's my responsibility to set you on your path, and right now, all I have from you is a history of failures and mediocrity. I cannot tolerate incompetence, and you haven't shown anything that convinces me you deserve to be a Prefect. Unless you prove yourself to me, I will take your badge.

"I'd have little trouble introducing Mr. Malfoy to the right people. I know what to expect from him, and I know he's willing to prove himself. I have pointed some of your classmates in the right direction."

"In-introduce?" Pansy stuttered.

"Yes," Professor Carrow confirmed with a frown. "Mr. Malfoy insisted that you are more than what you have shown so far. He suggested that you might be the right kind to work for the betterment of our society."

Relief and dread washed over Pansy. Relief – and a portion of happiness that Draco had put a good word in for her – because her secret hadn't been found out. Professor Carrow didn't know how right she had been when she had said Pansy had allowed herself to get stunned. However, she also didn't like the direction the talk was headed. With Draco and Professor Carrow working for the Dark Lord, Pansy doubted they planned on recruiting her for the Ministry. A year ago, she might have jumped at the opportunity to serve the Dark Lord. Now, she wasn't eager to, and afraid what would become of her because she wasn't. Rumour had it the Dark Lord was equally generous with rewards and punishment, and she doubted she'd deserve many of the former.

"Mr. Malfoy argued that you are merely distracted, and if given the opportunity, you might be an asset. Unfortunately, I'm not convinced you are worth the effort. I'm not convinced you are as reliable as he implied. A lot of work needs to be done, Miss Parkinson. I need to know whether you can do your part."

"I," Pansy began, painfully aware of the danger she faced if she misspoke, "have been thinking about my future and what I can offer our society. I know a lot needs to be done."

"Your files say you were interested in a career in Foreign Affairs?" Professor Carrow prodded with a raised eyebrow.

Pansy blushed, remembering the talk with Professor Snape in her fifth year. Back then, she hadn't wanted to reveal her plan to marry into wealth and become a world-travelling socialite.

"Well, I'd like to work for the Ministry," Pansy replied, swallowing a lump in her throat. "Maybe some desk job for a start." She was about to continue when movement at the door caught her eye.

"Ah, yes," Professor Carrow said, her face lighting up as she turned to the new arrivals. "We've been waiting for you."

Pansy almost stumbled back in shock. Astoria had come in, and she had brought Millicent and Tracey with her who glanced around nervously. They were escorted by a group of Draco's recruits.

"Miss Bulstrode and Miss Davis, Professor," Astoria spoke up, and a willowy, pale-faced Hufflepuff tried – and failed hilariously – to shove both girls forward, only earning him a pitying glance from a smirking Millicent.

"Thank you. You may go to your classes now," Professor Carrow said, addressing everyone except Millicent, Tracey, and the still shocked Pansy.

"Now," Professor Carrow continued with a smile that sent shivers down Pansy's back, "I think it's time I got to know you better, Miss Parkinson. Let us see who you really are, shall we? It is time for you to choose. You know the Cruciatus curse, I –"

"I can't choose between my friends!" Pansy gasped, stumbling backwards, sending a horrified glance to the other girls. Tracey regained a bit of colour, but shifted to hide behind Millicent who smiled almost imperceptibly.

"I didn't ask you to," Professor Carrow answered with an air of annoyance. "They refused to discipline students as part of detention. We also found some missing ointments and potions from the hospital wing in their trunks we believe Miss Bulstrode and Miss Davis intended to hand out to students." With sigh, she added in Millicent's direction, "I'm disappointed. That was very foolish."

Instead of shying away, Millicent squared her shoulders proudly, but didn't reply.

Turning back, Professor Carrow continued, "They made their choice, and they will be punished for it, one way or another. This is your chance to prove yourself to me, to show me you do have the strength we need. This is your choice – you can walk out that door, lose your badge, and leave your friends to suffer at my hands. Or you stay and we'll see how strong you really are."

Pansy stood rooted to the spot.

It was no choice, not really. Any honour, any power, any rewards Carrow or the Dark Lord could offer paled in comparison to her friends. She'd take their punishment if she could.

Who said she couldn't?

Her thoughts must have shown on her face – Professor Carrow shook her head. "Don't even think about it. Choose."

Pansy swallowed a lump in her throat, her left hand grabbing the Prefect's badge on her cloak as she thought about throwing it in Professor Carrow's face. And she thought about the reports she had falsified over the months, the many times she had distracted the other Prefects long enough for Millicent or Tracey to dive into a hidden passageway, the many times she had covered for them or other students, the many times she had done everything not to notice her friends handing out crate-loads of potions, had knowingly turned a blind eye to all the signs of their true allegiance – the many times she had neglected her duties as a Prefect and vouched for Millicent and Tracey. And Pansy thought about Professor Carrow's punishment. With her friends getting caught once, they would be under constant observation. If Pansy lost her badge, if she lost her position as Prefect, both would be dead by the end of the week. There was no way either Millicent or Tracey would not get caught, and no way Professor Carrow would have mercy.

"You know the spell," Professor Carrow whispered, but it seemed to echo in the room.

Maybe Pansy could warn them, tell them everything she knew, everything she had done to keep them safe?

But it wouldn't work, Pansy knew. Millicent and Tracey had been deemed suspicious before. Now they were known traitors to the cause. There was a chance they wouldn't make it out of the room alive if Professor Carrow had any say in it.

"Coward," Millicent said.

Despite the soft tone, Pansy flinched as if hit by the burly girl.

"Time to prove your loyalty," Professor Carrow hissed, walking over to Pansy. "Time for justice."

Tracey snorted from her spot half-hidden behind Millicent, and for one horrifying moment, Pansy feared she might say something.

"No?" Professor Carrow asked, sounding almost disappointed as she moved so close to Pansy that it seemed as if only the two of them existed any more – a private moment between them, a private test for Pansy. "Are you that weak?"

"Weak?" Tracey whispered under her breath – just barely loud enough to hear where Pansy was standing. "She isn't a –"

Pansy jerked into motion without thinking as the world turned on its head. With a flick of her wrist, Pansy's wand flew to her hand, the first spell in her panicked mind cast with a yell before she realized it.

Hit in the shoulder, Tracey spun and fell to the ground, gasping.

Time seemed to slow down as Pansy's began to realize what she had done. All she had been able to think about had been the Cruciatus curse. She had cursed Tracey.

Tracey looked up, genuinely hurt at Pansy's betrayal. Millicent's fists were clenched in fury. Neither understood what Pansy had done so far to keep them safe; if anyone had any right to be furious, it was Pansy – for months, she had risked everything to cover for them, only for them to risk everything so foolishly?

"You have to mean it, Miss Parkinson," Professor Carrow whispered in Pansy's ear. "Again. Once more. You can do it. Save them from my wrath. Show me what you can do and you and your friends are free to go. You can end this here and now."

Pansy and Tracey's eyes met, and for a brief moment, Pansy thought she could see her friend nod imperceptibly. Better you than her, Tracey seemed to think, and Pansy agreed. Better Pansy's weak spells without any passion to fuel them than Professor Carrow's cold-hearted torture.

With a quivering lip and an apologetic glance, Pansy forced herself to cast the torture spell a second time, trying to sound as angry as she could. Tracey screamed and twitched on the floor.

"Did you mean it, Miss Parkinson?" Professor Carrow hissed uncomfortably close to Pansy's ear. "Look how she stares back at you, how she pities you. She knows you need all the help you can get. It's an act, isn't it? She's letting you. Because you can't do it alone, and she knows you're pathetic. I know how it looks. You can't fool me that easily."

When Pansy didn't act, the professor continued, far too low for anyone else to hear, "It hurts, doesn't it? It hurts, having to do it. Having to save them from their own mistakes. I'll tell you a secret." Carrow leaned even closer. "You're here because of them. You're here because they got caught. If it weren't for their foolishness, you wouldn't be here. That pain you feel, that angry cry you keep down? It's their fault. Convince me. Make her scream. Make her scream for me."

Steeling herself, Pansy pointed her wand at Tracey who gave her the ghost of an uncertain smile.

The helpless anger Pansy had felt flared into burning, overwhelming fury just as Pansy cast the spell.

This time, Tracey didn't act. The scream cut through Pansy, shook her to the core, and broke her concentration.

Shaking violently, Pansy staggered slightly, watching in horror as Tracey curled in on herself.

This was her work, Pansy knew, as a cold hand gripped her heart.

"Good," Professor Carrow whispered in Pansy's ear as her hand gently turned Pansy's wand towards the next victim – motionless Millicent. "Now Bulstrode. Make her scream. Make her pay. Do it."

Cold, drained of all strength, Pansy did as she was told. She cast the torture spell on the strangely stiff Millicent, and she too crumbled to the ground, grunting.

"That was no scream," Professor Carrow hissed with a sense of urgency. "You can do better than that."

And Pansy did.

The pain she felt pushed to the forefront of her mind with nothing drowning it out, and it rekindled a hatred at the world and everyone in it that consumed her thoughts.

Millicent thrashed about, and hearing her scream forced down Pansy's need to do the same. As long as someone screamed, Pansy could endure her pain. When she ended the spell, she continued to stare at the girls on the ground.

"Good," Professor Carrow whispered. "Again."

And Pansy did as she was told. The burly girl at her feet clawed at nothing, twitched and released the scream Pansy was forced to hold in. The more of her burning hatred she fuelled into the spell and the more she focused on forcing the all-consuming rage out, the less it actually hurt to be alive. Again and again she brought her wand down, sending bursts of pain out to release the searing heat of anger until the screams subsided. Yet the fire was spent; Pansy was numb all over, a chilling emptiness where her rage had been.

"Good," Professor Carrow's voice echoed in Pansy's ear, and she realized it had been a while since the woman had spoken. "You may go now, Miss Parkinson."

As if nothing had happened, Professor Carrow walked to her desk and pulled a stack of parchment towards her, leaving Pansy staring down on Tracey at Millicent's bodies, the ragged breathing the only sign of life.

This was her work, Pansy knew.

She staggered forward, feeling sick to the bone, and made to cast some levitation spells on the girls.

"Don't bother," Professor Carrow spoke up from her desk, not looking up as she wrote something down, adding with a dismissive wave, "Someone will pick them up later."

"Yes, Perfessor Carrow," Pansy mumbled as she stuffed her wand into her pocket, shuffling out of the room and, once in the corridor, pushing her way through a crowd of students she refused to acknowledge as anything more than a faceless mass. Each step seemed to shake her to the core and sent waves of nausea through her as the truth of what she had done sank in.

She just barely made it to the nearest bathroom, clinging to one of the sinks to stop the world from spinning. It helped, but also made her feel even worse.

From inside the mirror, a pale-faced, wide-eyed girl looked back at Pansy.

Who are you, the girl seemed to ask Pansy.

She looked down, unable to stand the girl's haunted eyes, but the instead of the sink, she saw nothing but the broken bodies of her friends at her feet.

Her legs gave way, and she fell to her knees, sobbing. Months of secrecy, months of trying to change for the better, of protecting her friends destroyed by her own hands. Everything she had fought for, all of her work to keep her friends safe from harm for naught. She'd tortured her friends, had even found a sick relief in their suffering that chased away the pain inside of her, had betrayed what she had thought dearest. She might have told herself that she had hurt them to save them from worse, but Pansy knew it didn't undo the evil she had done; she had betrayed that which she had cherished for all of her years at Hogwarts.

Struggling to her feet, Pansy managed to steady herself and glance in the mirror.

She looked horrible, but far less so than she felt. And as she stared into the mirror, she could see the path laid out in front of her. She had to clean up a bit; t wouldn't do her any good to look like a nervous wreck. And then, she had to –

"You don't look so good," someone said right next to her, shocking Pansy.

Whirling around, she came face-to-face with Astoria.

"What do you want?" Pansy spat, painfully aware of the quiver in her voice.

"What makes you think I want anything?" Astoria replied with a roll of her eyes, turning to one of the other sinks to wash her hands.

"Can't I talk to you when we run into each other?" Astoria asked.

"No," Pansy gave back, blinking in confusion despite the aching in her knees and chest. "I mean, yes, but –"

But what, Pansy wondered.

"Fine, I saw you walk in here and followed you. And I meant what I said," Astoria continued, drying her hands on a towel. "You really don't look good. Or worse than usual, I guess. N.E.W.T.s bothering you?"

"And what about you?" Pansy gave back.

"Oh, I'm doing fine," Astoria said with a shrug. "With everyone so busy studying, it's a bit boring right now, but I manage. And I have all the summer excitement to look forward to."

"Hn," Pansy answered, not in the mood for a talk with Astoria.

She looked awful, and if she wanted to get her friends the help they needed after the torment she had put them through, she –

"Millicent's quite the screamer, isn't she?"

Pansy froze, staring in the mirror.

"Then again, with her size – "

Turning slowly to face Astoria, Pansy found the other girl looking back.

"Think they'll ever forgive you?" Astoria asked, tilting her head. "They might, you know. They might."

"What have you done?" Pansy whispered, stumbling back a bit.

Astoria's face contorted into a bone-chilling smile. "You should thank me," Astoria said. "Professor Carrow was about to take your Prefect's badge. A month before you'd left school for good!"

"What do I care about my badge?" Pansy shouted.

"You should," Astoria replied with a sudden seriousness. "How will you protect your friends – well, former friends now, I guess –" She broke off as she noticed Pansy's expression. "Oh, come on. You can't believe I didn't notice what is going on. Bulstrode and Davis are working with Longbottom and the other Blood traitors, and you cover for them. Yes, I know about it. And yes, I did make sure I'm not the only one holding onto that secret, but that it remains a secret for the time being. I'm not a fool."

Pansy's mouth was very dry all of a sudden, and she was painfully aware just how dangerous the girl in front of her really was. If she had told Professor Carrow what she knew –

If she had, Pansy wouldn't be standing in a bathroom at the moment, and Millicent and Tracey wouldn't be alive any more.

Maybe they weren't, Pansy realized with a shock. What had happened after she had left them at Professor Carrow's mercy?

Still, Pansy clung to hope. If Astoria hadn't told Professor Carrow already, then she had a reason not to - blackmail.

"Anyway," Astoria continued, "without me, you'd no longer be a Prefect. Thanks to me, Professor Carrow knew a better way to discipline you. Everyone's got what they wanted."

"What do you want?" Pansy asked, forcing herself to sound as calm as she could and failing horribly.

"Want?" Astoria laughed humourlessly. "What makes you think I'd want anything from you?" Pausing, she stared off the side as if considering something. "Well, it'd be nice if you looked the other way occasionally – you know, that's something you've got experience with now, but it doesn't really matter any more. I already got what I wanted."

Racking her brain, Pansy couldn't really see what the other girl meant.

It must have shown on her face.

"Oh, Pansy," Astoria said, shaking her head. Then, she added, "It's boring right now, but you were fun to watch."

Pansy's hand went for her wand –

– and didn't find it.

Grinning, Astoria lifted her hand, which held a very familiar wand – Pansy's.

"You really should pay closer attention, Miss Parkinson," Astoria chided Pansy in a mocking tone. "No wonder some Blood traitors could stun you. Not even they see you as a threat. Stunning, tcheh."

With a nasty sneer, her hand holding the wand twitched. A purple flash shot past Pansy's face. Something cool ran down her cheek – blood from a cut.

With a roll of her eyes, Astoria threw Pansy's wand into one of the stalls and left.


Professor Carrow is probably hosting a tea party for Millicent and Tracey right now.