Chapter VII
August 20, 1996
"What time did he say he'd be here?"
"Soon, just relax. Desperation's not a good look, little lady," Tonks said with a snort, rolling her eyes at Sirius.
He didn't take the bait. "Do you have your coin purse? Expanded bag? Emergency portkey?"
"Yes, Sirius, for the third time! I'll be fine!"
"I don't like it. Hogwarts letters have never come out this late before. Diagon's going to be a madhouse," he muttered. "Maybe I should go with you, I'd only need glamors and-"
"Don't even think about it!" "No way!"
Tonks and Tori glanced at each other following their simultaneous objections, then Tonks continued. "Glamors draw attention, you know that. Part of auror training is recognizing disguising spells, all you'd do is draw attention from the very people we're trying to avoid."
"But-"
"Neville will watch out for her. And come on, after- uh, after last month, do you really doubt his ability to protect her?"
He couldn't deny that the young man was quickly growing into a powerful wizard, made even more dangerous with the esoteric magic that Harry had provided him. "Still, Astoria is my responsibility. After what happened with Luna-"
"We'll find her. The Weasleys set up alert wards at the Lovegood home, and I've put out the word to some of my old DMLE contacts. But you won't be able to care for Tori if you're in a prison cell, or worse, in a grave. Madam Bones' death proved the Americans have taken the occupation to the next level. You need to stay safe."
Sirius didn't respond, and as if on cue, the flat's wards chimed an incoming Floo arrival. Astoria rushed over to greet Neville, throwing her arms around him before he could even brush the soot off his clothes.
"Hey! I was getting worried!"
Patting the young girl on the back, Neville gave a wan smile. "Sorry. There's been a lot going on."
"What is it? Is everything okay?"
"I think so. Hermione's back in Britain."
"What?! How-, when?"
"It's not just her; all of the muggleborns that fled during the last war were shipped back. The French rounded them up and forced them to return. They didn't receive any notice and are being kept in some sort of refugee settlement. She got back two days ago."
Astoria wore an irritated look, but Sirius and Tonks mulled the news. "Cedric hasn't reported anything yet."
Sirius shrugged. "We all know MacDougal's a puppet. He might not have even been consulted. Did she say what's going to happen to them?"
"Those who are under-age are going back to Hogwarts. There was some talk about placing the ones that have reached their majority in Ministry positions."
"In the Ministry?"
Neville nodded. "That's what she said they were told. What of it?"
"A lot of people were sacked following the coup and replaced by the Provisional Ministry. They're not going to be happy to see muggleborns given jobs for no reason beyond their blood status."
"Great. Just what we need right now," Tonks moaned, then glanced at the clock hanging above the fireplace. "You two should get going, we can discuss this more later."
Tori followed Neville to the Floo, waiting for him to walk through the green flames first before she went herself. The return of the muggleborns wasn't quite as controversial to her; her mother had certainly embraced the most odious parts of pureblood dogma, but then her mother had never been very involved in her life. Her father rarely discussed politics with her, making a conscious decision with her sister to mute the problems of the world when it came to Tori's upbringing.
So, although she was well aware of the vitriol and contention around blood in Magical Britain, Astoria didn't share the worries over what fifty or so muggleborn refugees returning would cause. No, her primary issue with the news of the day was about one particular muggleborn coming back - Hermione Granger, the young woman that stood between her and Neville.
What right did she have to come and step back into his life, after she'd been absent for so many years? Wasn't Tori the one that had been there when his parents were murdered in front of him, when he pushed himself to exhaustion training for revenge, when he nearly succumbed to the grief and trauma following the Battle of Azkaban?
Jaw clenched, she quietly walked beside Neville, eyeing him carefully as they exited the Leaky Cauldron. His posture was stiff, anxious; gods, she realized, he was expecting to see her today! Astoria didn't know if she could handle watching him embrace that cowardly muggleborn, not when she so obviously didn't deserve him. Why couldn't he see that it was she who belonged at his side, not Hermione!
"Would you like to stop by Florian's first?"
"Ah, maybe after we grab our supplies. I thought we'd stop at Flourish and Blott's first, you know the lines are going to be quite long, with the school owls going out so late."
"Okay," she muttered, steeling herself. "Let's go."
The Alley was packed, filled with families rushing to and fro, arms laden with purchases. As they approached Flourish and Blott's though, a huge crowd blocked their passage, the air filled with angry shouts and red-faced wizards and witches.
"What's going on?" Neville asked a woman, clutching the hand of what looked like an incoming First Year.
"Damn French have closed the shop! We're not allowed to enter until they've got their supplies!"
"The French?" Neville questioned, eyebrows raised in confusion. "What are they doing here?"
"Exactly my point! It's our country, they've no right!"
He tried to get more detail but the woman had already raised her fist and was back to yelling angrily. Astoria watched as he turned to her wearing a worried expression.
"I'm going to see what's going on, stay-"
"Cut it out, you know I'm coming along!" She held out a hand, trying hard to suppress a smile of glee when their fingers locked together. Without another word, she slipped between two burly wizards in front of her, Tori's lithe form nimbly slipping through the crowd, pulling Neville behind her as she made her way toward the front.
When they were closer, they could clearly make out more than two dozen guards, wearing white robes and impassively staring down the mob, their stony countenance and guarded posture practically screaming 'auror' to anyone paying attention. Their wands were drawn but pointed to the cobblestone pavement, not towards the crowd.
"Excuse me-"
"Stay back, there's no entry permitted at this time."
Neville held his arms out in a non-threatening pose, his movements belied by the people surrounding them. "We're just here to get school supplies, why can't we go in?"
"Our orders are to guard the store while our charges are inside. When their purchases are complete, you'll be allowed to enter."
Before Neville could get more information, the shouts increased in tenor.
"What're a bunch of Frenchies doing in Diagon anyway!"
"My children need their supplies, I took the day off work for this?"
"Britain for the British!"
"STAND BACK!" Now their wands rose, pointing outward in the ready position. "We will not allow you to enter until the muggleborn have gathered their books. Remain calm!"
"We can't shop because some mudbloods need their books!?"
"Outrageous!"
Tori suddenly regretted investigating this disturbance; they were caught between the angry crowd and the aurors. She gripped Neville's hand tighter and moved to step closer to him but he was pulling away, looking over the shoulder of the auror in front of them.
"Hermione? HERMIONE!"
A pretty girl with wild brown hair and chocolate-colored eyes just inside the shop's entrance turned, her arms laden with textbooks. Astoria watched with a sinking feeling as her eyes widened, the books falling to the floor while at the same time Neville pushed forward.
"Wait, don't-"
It was too late. The auror blocking their path casually lifted his wand and dropped Neville with a silent Stupefying Charm. There was a scream but Astoria honestly couldn't tell if it came from her or Hermione. She jumped on top of Neville's prone body as more stunners lanced out from the aurors and pandemonium erupted.
"Jacobs, glad you could make it."
"It's not like I have a lot to do on my time off. This stuff is absolute swill!"
Manny chuckled. "It's a drink for children, what did you expect?" He motioned to Rosmerta, ordering some mead. "How's being an auror treating you?"
"I don't really know."
He waited for Wally to continue, but the other man stayed quiet, taking another swig from his butterbeer. "Not quite what you were told it would be, is it?"
"Are you talking about my service year or being deployed here?"
"I'm talking about the occupation."
"It's not an occupation. It's a 'stabilization assignment'; at least, that's what our commander says."
Manny barked a sarcastic laugh. "Yea, of course. How's the rest of the 7th handling the losses at Bones Manor?"
"That was more than ten percent of the whole unit, wiped out in one go. How do you think they're doing?" Wally looked down, picking at the label on the butterbeer bottle. "Most of them have never fired a spell in anger. They're scared and they want to go home. Can't say I feel all that different, to be honest."
Nodding his head, Manny reached out and put his hand on Wally's shoulder. "I understand. This place… Magical Britain is a nightmare. They've been at war on a regular basis for almost thirty years, while we've been Memory Charming Nomaj."
"I guess it makes a lot more sense why Harry was so focused on learning how to fight, if these were the kinds of people waiting for him to return."
"Are you kidding me?!" Manny asked in disbelief. "What do you know about what happened here once Harry got back?"
"I know that he killed the British Dark Lord by dropping a meteor on him."
"Yes, that happened. But Harry spent most of a year slaughtering fully-trained wizards before that night. The Confederation is fooling themselves to think that a bunch of half-trained aurors straight out of Ilvermorny will be enough."
Wally pushed away his butterbeer and called Rosmerta over to order a firewhiskey. "Harry wouldn't- he's always had an edge, but that's not the kind of person he is."
"I'm not saying that he's evil or some kind of Dark Lord himself. But Harry responded to his adopted muggle parents being murdered by going on a killing spree that left- honestly, I don't even know how many people were dead by the end. He was fifteen years old, Jacobs - fifteen! It's mind-boggling!"
They each took heavy gulps of their drinks, descending into silence. After a long while, Wally spoke up. "If the ICW doesn't think we can win, what are we doing here?"
"I don't know. But I don't think-" Manny paused, taking a look around, then quietly withdrawing his wand to put up a privacy charm. "I don't think we're doing the right thing. This whole occupation feels wrong."
"But the Statute! If the British keep allowing these high-level breaches, they'll endanger every wizard and witch on the planet!"
"You don't have to remind me, I know all of that, and I agree. Mostly. But just because the alternative is evil, doesn't mean our solution is good. You get what I'm saying?" Pushing away his half-filled mug of mead, Manny rose from their booth and dispelled the privacy charm. "I have to get back to Hogwarts, we're having a faculty meeting before the term begins."
"Okay. Let's do this again soon, alright?"
"Sounds good to me. Stay safe, Jacobs."
"You too."
Manny hurried to the castle, choosing to walk off the mead rather than take the Floo back to his office. Besides, with how long winter lasted in northern Scotland, why not enjoy the warm summer weather? His decision to lengthen his trip back to Hogwarts certainly wasn't because he was dreading sitting down at the same table as the new Headmaster. Certainly not.
Richard Reilly, formerly Professor of Enchanting at Ilvermorny, was a difficult instructor. Manny remembered that well from his own years as a student; it, therefore, should not have come as a great surprise that the man was just as petty and insulting as a boss. He'd immediately scrapped all of Manny's lesson plans, telling him that they were not up to international standards, then provided him with sample materials that were far more elementary than those that Manny himself had created.
Add to that his insistence that the first week of the term should cover nothing beyond historical examples of instances when each professor's particular field was used in a major breach to the Statute of Secrecy, and it was no surprise that he'd already alienated the staff and was certainly on his way to doing the same for the student body. All before the first day of classes, no less!
Reilly's pinched features frowned as he slipped into the faculty meeting, grabbing a seat next to Sinistra. "It's about time you got here, Manuel. We've been waiting."
"That's Professor Jimenez, Headmaster. My apologies, I was meeting with a representative of the 7th Auror's Brigade regarding possible threats to the school this term."
"And who appointed you the head of security?"
"I was asked to meet with the auror, and so I did. Take it up with their brass if there's an issue."
Those professors who were holdovers from the previous administration shifted in their seats and exchanged glances. This kind of animosity between two of the Americans didn't bode well for the stability of the coming school year.
Flitwick cleared his throat and quietly interrupted. "I had heard that Horace would be returning; are we still waiting for his arrival?"
"Yes, he had agreed to come back for one year. Unfortunately, his body was discovered last week in his home. There was evidence of a struggle."
Manny noted the shock and surprise on the faces of most of the older faculty. He leaned over to Aurora and asked, "Who is Horace? What was he going to teach?"
"Horace Slughorn was the Potions Professor at Hogwarts for decades. He retired shortly before Snape took the position," she replied, a flicker of distaste crossing her features as she looked at him.
"-which will provide us with an appropriate substitute for this term, at minimum. Now, I'd like to discuss maintaining order."
"That hasn't been a great issue in the past, Headmaster. Our students may act their age, but they know where the boundaries are and rarely cross them," Sprout said.
"Is that so? Ever since your government made the ludicrous decision to weaken the Underage Sorcery restrictions, many students seem to have made the decision to involve themselves in the conflict that led to the international response which brought me here."
"None of that happened in the school, though-"
Reilly held up a roll of parchment although he recited its words from memory. "Two Defense professors killed, two students dead, troll break-ins, acromantula and basilisk attacks, escaped convicts entering school grounds, and private quarters for a mass murderer. I hardly think that anyone that wasn't hired this summer has any business questioning a change in how we operate."
There wasn't a verbal response to that, so he went on. "There will be periodic room checks, searching for seditious materials and contraband. House-elves have been instructed to monitor the use of magic outside of classrooms, and the portraits will also report any rule violations to faculty. First offenses will result in the confiscation of wands for 48 hours; second offenses a month's detention, and three strikes in expulsion."
"Expulsion?! Isn't that rather drastic?"
"The use of magic is a gift from the gods; it is the root of our civilization, of our superiority. Students do not only come here to learn how to harness this ability but also the responsibilities inherent with wielding it. If they lack the self-control to do so, then they are welcome to leave and wallow with the Nomaj."
Manny had to resist beating his head against the tabletop. 'Could he be anymore abrasive?' What had the Magical Congress been thinking, sending someone like Reilly to oversee an entire school? "How will students be able to pass their evaluations if they aren't allowed to use magic outside of classrooms?"
"Perhaps," the Headmaster responded silkily, "if students require such dedicated study to learn how to practice magic, the fault lay with their teachers' instruction."
Manny snorted. "Sure, that's it. I'm an awful teacher, right? That must be why no students at Ilvermorny use magic outside of their classes."
Reilly bristled at his rebuttal. "If you're unwilling to conform to the new administration of this school, you're more than welcome to give notice."
"Maybe I should, given that there's no way I'll be able to find another job once all of my students fail their OWL and NEWT examinations because they're not allowed to practice their spellwork!"
"I don't think this is getting us anywhere," said the new Muggle Studies professor, a recent arrival from the MACUSA. "Headmaster, perhaps we might establish study halls, where students can work on their practical assignments under appropriate supervision?"
"Of course. I'm not inflexible, after all." There was a brief discussion about the logistics of that idea, then the meeting came to a close. "I don't have anything else for you today; we'll meet again one week after the term begins. You're dismissed."
The faculty rose out of their seats to make for the exit, grateful that the uncomfortable meeting was finally over, when Reilly called out, "Professors Sinistra and Jimenez, please remain."
He exchanged a glance with the pretty, dark-skinned Astronomy teacher before returning to his seat next to her. "Yes?"
"As the Heads of Slytherin and Gryffindor House, I will require your assistance after the Sorting Ceremony."
"Assistance with what, exactly?"
"There are two students, one in each of your Houses, that the Ministry has requested to meet with. I'm sure that it won't take long, but I'll need you to bring them to my office after they've had dinner."
"Which students?" Somewhere, deep down, he suspected he already knew the answer to his own question.
"I'll inform you after the Sorting Ceremony. That's all, you're dismissed."
They rose out of their seats once more, and as soon as they'd left the room Aurora turned to head the opposite way that he was going.
"Hey, what's your hurry?"
"Don't talk to me."
"Aurora, hey, wait-" he reached for her but no sooner had his fingers grazed her elbow than she burst into action, stepping into him with her wand-tip under his chin, backing him against the wall with fury in her dark eyes.
"Don't you touch me, traitor! Did you think that everything would go back to normal after you got Minerva and the others thrown out of Hogwarts? After you let these jack-booted thugs take over?"
He swallowed, speaking slowly and carefully. "Hogwarts is too easily defensible. The aurors demanded that it be secured as part of our initial arrival. I made sure that no one was hurt-"
"You lied to us- to me! We took you in, accepted you, and the moment that we were vulnerable, you betrayed us!"
Manny met her furious glare with as much calm as he could muster. "I had to. My orders were absolute."
"And what we had last term? Was that part of your orders, too? Or was I just a bit of recreation on the side while you waited for the invasion?"
"It wasn't like that, not at all. I never expected it to happen, but I-, I'm glad it did."
She leaned in close, her eyes narrowed and her voice soft. "If you ever try to touch me again, not even every auror in the entire fucking United States will stop me from killing you where you stand. Are we clear?"
"Yes," he whispered, closing his eyes briefly as he inhaled her scent one last time before she stepped back and stormed down the corridor.
August 28, 1996
Senio snarled, crumpling the correspondence he'd received from the Vice-Minister and throwing it into the fire. 'How could they be so idiotic?' When he'd requested additional aurors from the French, he hadn't anticipated them deciding to deliberately try and incite another civil war.
What were his options, though? The Americans were woefully inexperienced and ill-equipped to mount an effective counter-insurgency; the French provided much-needed muscle to keep a lid on things in Britain while the Nine baited the trap for Potter. He'd deal with Delacour when this was all over; the foolish man had guaranteed not only his own fate but that of his entire family as well.
In the meantime, he had more important concerns than trying to keep the British from killing themselves over each other's heritage. He still needed something to draw Potter back to Britain; something that would guarantee his return. Finding the appropriate lure, though, was not as simple as it would at first appear; most of those that he was closest to were already dead.
Realistically, there were only three people left alive in Great Britain that would provide the necessary emotional response to push the young man into a confrontation. Two of them would almost certainly fall into his grasp on September first; the last, though…
Sirius Black had completely vanished following the search of his home in London. He'd not been seen in public once, not for Wizengamot sessions, not in Diagon Alley, nowhere. While it was possible that he'd fled the country, something told Senio that Black was not the sort to turn tail and run.
It's possible that two would be enough, but he still had time. Senio didn't get to where he was with half-measures, after all. Tossing a pinch of Floo powder into the fireplace, he called out his destination. Striding confidently to the admitting desk past the wizards and witches waiting in line, he leaned towards the hospital staffer.
"On which floor is Andromeda Tonks working?"
"... and therefore, you need not feel limited to area-of-effect charms."
"You say that but Harry's much stronger than I am, and he still can't manage them."
Dumbledore gave the young woman a kindly smile. "Indeed, and it is his great strength that prevents the direction and control necessary for casting charms."
"It would be nice to be able to do something more than just copy the stuff Harry was doing years ago."
"You need not be so dismissive of your impressive abilities, Miss Greengrass."
Daphne shrugged. "I need to be better. It's not enough."
Settling into a conjured recliner, Dumbledore began to instruct her on the techniques that he had in mind.
Several hours later Daphne was exhausted, wanting nothing more than to crawl into her bed and sleep for the next few days. Dumbledore announced that he was heading out to find dinner for them, so she took the opportunity to soak in a warm bath, not getting out until she heard him return.
As she was dressing, Daphne could hear a quiet conversation from the room. Harry must be up! Against her better judgment, she pressed her ear to the door, their muffled voices just audible enough for her to make out.
"It should have been my decision."
"You may think so but you are barely sixteen years old. While you no doubt are able to cite several instances this was not so, with advanced age comes greater wisdom."
"So you will always know better? I should just trust you'll make the right choice, for me, and I'll follow along like a well-trained pet?"
Daphne could easily imagine the disappointment she was sure must be on Dumbledore's face. "I only wanted to give you the chance to live the life you've been denied to this point. I truly believed I could win you a reprieve."
Silence. It stretched on for so long that she wondered if they'd left the room to continue their conversation. Daphne placed one hand on the doorknob, preparing to emerge from the bathroom when Harry responded.
"When my parents died, all I wanted was to be able to choose my own path. I wanted the freedom to make decisions for myself, to live my life as I see fit."
"But that's changed?"
"There's no point. I'll never be free. Even if the Confederation gives up, I'll never be free."
"There is always hope, Harry."
"Hope for what? That I never lose control of my emotions again, for the rest of my life?" His voice was despondent. "I killed them all. I remember every death, every spell." Daphne was ready to charge out of the bathroom at that statement, but Dumbledore's immediate response halted her move.
"Yes, you did. But ask yourself, 'why'? What did you feel while you were killing the villagers?"
"I was furious at them; they were just acting so, so… I tried to warn them but the more they attacked me, the angrier I got. I wanted to hurt them," Harry whispered.
"No doubt a symptom of the Berserker's Frenzy. I'm not saying that it is not regrettable, or that you should absolve yourself of all responsibility."
"Then what are you saying?"
"That should not let a single mistake define the rest of your life. Do you think that every person that did something awful never went on to do something good? Have you and I not had this very discussion before, about redemption?"
Her memories flashed to the thoughts she'd had before that day in Mikebuda, as Harry said, "I can't stop thinking about it. How am I supposed to move past this?"
"I believe that, first of all, you need to ensure that you have the appropriate safeguards in place to ensure such an event does not happen again. I lack the knowledge to make a determination on how deep the demonic corruption lies inside you, so you will need a way to hold back the tide when you next find yourself in an emotional state."
"You have a way to do that?" Harry interrupted.
"I believe so, yes; a form of the Mind Arts, known as occlumency. There's more that I wanted to say, though." He paused, as though to offer Harry the chance to interrupt once more, continuing after a moment of silence. "I can imagine what it must be like to relive the events of Mikebuda. I'm sad to say it, but that was likely not the last mistake that you will make. When those with our power err, it is rare that those weaker do not suffer the consequences of our misdoing."
"Yea?" Despite the challenging nature of his words, Harry's tone was weary and defeated. "And when was the last time you made a 'mistake' like this?"
"There are a number of examples I could offer. I'm human, just like you, as prone to lapses in judgment and arrogance as anyone. Your Aunt suffered from one of my more regrettable actions."
"What- Aunt Petunia? You had some part in the mob that attacked them?"
"No; I had no part in what happened to your cousin or uncle. But before that happened, your aunt was- she was permanently incapacitated from an overpowered legilimency attack. Her mind was broken beyond repair."
"You…?"
"Yes. Not long after, I used the same magic against you."
"I haven't forgotten."
Daphne didn't like the road that this conversation was traveling, and she stepped out of the bathroom, approaching Harry to evaluate his mood. Despite Dumbledore's revelations, he didn't appear angry, or spiteful. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he said, rather dismissively in her opinion, turning back to his former teacher. "How do I learn occlumency? Will I be able to learn it?"
"I believe so. It will not be easy, but we have the time. Now, I fear that our food has grown cold. Miss Greengrass, perhaps you could demonstrate a Warming Charm for us to enjoy our meal?"
Giving him a nod, she took a deep breath and tried to focus on the necessary magic to reheat their dinner, rather than on the uncomfortable conversation she'd just listened to. It seemed like the next few weeks were going to be unpleasant.
"Go ahead, dear; I can see you looking at the dish. Eat up."
Susan flushed at the woman's gentle encouragement, reaching out and spooning more food onto her plate. Sara Nott had practically moved into Riddle's mansion, and despite herself, Susan was grateful for the older woman's experience and, yes, even her company. She was close to six months along in her pregnancy, and the aches and pains had given way to an incredible appetite and a warm glow as her child grew.
"I've left lunch for you under a warming charm in the kitchen, as I won't be back in time to join you."
Swallowing a bite, she nodded. "Okay."
"I hope that it goes unsaid that you should not take Sara's absence as an opportunity to venture outside," the harsh tones of Octavius said from behind her, "There are perimeter wards in place around every exit, ones that you are not keyed into. I assure you that their effects would be… most unfortunate for you and your child."
If Lady Nott had become an odd sort of comfort to her, Lord Nott was a constant source of fear and anxiety. Even if she had not been aware of the exact nature of his crimes, the way he constantly undressed her with his eyes - despite her pregnancy - made her skin crawl, and even after nearly two months, his presence still sent a surge of terror through her veins.
"I'm sure that she's well aware, you needn't be so- Theodore? I wasn't aware you were here!"
Susan, her appetite gone after Nott's intrusion, turned her head and watched as the Slytherin boy from her year took a seat opposite her own. "Father brought me last night so that we could travel to the station directly. Bones," he greeted, picking up his own plate to serve himself, "good morning."
'The station…' It must be September first! The start of a new school year. A melancholic wave fell over Susan; it seemed so hard to imagine a normal life, one where she worried over things like school marks, homework, and popularity. Seeing Theo brought with it a harsh contrast of her situation to the life she'd imagined, and she felt a brief wave of resentment towards Harry.
'That's not fair' she told herself. He didn't know about any of this, after all. And, despite her worries, she already felt a bond, a joy that she couldn't imagine with the child that even now kicked and shifted within her womb. Things wouldn't always be this way; she'd find a way out of this, even if she had to move heaven and earth to do so.
"Did you make sure that he packed his trunk before you brought him here?"
"The boy is nearly seventeen, stop your incessant mothering," Octavius grumbled, pouring himself a cup of tea and wandering away into the kitchen.
"It's fine, I have everything ready," Theo said, answering her question. Sara nodded, a frown on her face, and followed her husband out of the room.
He seemed content to allow an awkward silence to build while he ate, but Susan jumped on the opportunity that his parents' absence provided. "Nott," she whispered, "Please, you have to tell someone where I am."
"Who would believe me? Everyone thinks you're dead," he replied, eyes firmly locked on his breakfast.
"I'm begging you, please help me! I- I don't feel safe here. I'm afraid of what they're going to do to me, to my child!"
"I'm sorry."
Susan squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop tears of frustration from leaking out. "I'm not asking you to turn on your family. Just- can't you tell someone? A teacher, Neville, anyone!"
"You expect me to cross the Da-" he abruptly shut his mouth.
"What? What is it?"
"You don't even have a clue where you are right now, do you?"
"What are you talking about? This is Riddle's house, isn't it?"
Theo shook his head, finally looking at her for the first time. "You don't know what you're asking."
"If you're worried about your parents, I won't tell anyone about their involvement. I'll make a vow to not tell anyone they were here. But I need help, Nott."
"I'm not afraid of what the aurors would do. We would never live long enough to be arrested; he'd see to that."
"What aren't you telling me?"
He didn't reply, pushing away his half-eaten food and smoothing his robes as he stood from the table. As he walked towards the kitchen door where his parents were, she made one last, quiet plea.
"Astoria Greengrass. She's in your House, she can help me. Please."
The kitchen door closed behind him, leaving Susan alone in the dining room, finally free to let her tears fall. What had he been about to say? Who was Tom Riddle, really?
A/N: I was listening to Ghostland Observatory and Chopin while writing this chapter. It was an odd mix, but I think it worked!
Had some nice chats with WakeFan and Nauze about pacing in this story. Going to re-do my outline.
Thanks again to everyone reviewing - I really appreciate your kind words!
Stay safe, healthy, and happy! ~Frickles
