Chapter 4 – We All Have Our Scars

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Previously on The Forgiven: Everyone's memories related to Grimma have been erased. The only ones who know of her existence are Dumbledore, Moody, Kingsley, and her two new teammates. Upon joining the secret group, Grimma forgoes her old name and dons her new identity as Grimm.

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"Confringo Maxima!"

Defidio! Wingardium Leviosa!

Kingsley targeted Grimm with a powerful blasting spell, while the witch used nonverbal incantations to gouge out a slab of concrete floor. She then, levitated the cinder block up to receive her opponent's attack.

Rubble flew and dust filled the air. Only half the cinder block remained after the spell collided.

Ventus!

Grimm conjured a strong gale to push the concrete remnants towards Kingsley.

"Reducto!"

Before the block could reach him, it was disintegrated into harmless dust.

Avada Kedavra.

A slash of eerie, green light cut near Kingsley and faded. It was only known to the two combatants that the Killing Curse missed the man's head by a few inches.

After composing himself from his near death experience, Kingsley spoke.

"You have a real sense for duels."

"I don't believe you'll find many in my generation who aren't."

"Well…"

They both turned to the other sparring pair beside them.

"OH SHI—!"

Liar rushed through his unincanted spells, trying to block an oncoming curse with a cinder block like Grimm had done before. Unfortunately, his panicked spellwork created a concrete slab smaller than it needed to be.

Norse, his sparring partner, silently casted a Killing Curse at Liar's defenses. The spear of energy penetrated through the rock and almost struck Liar dead. The young wizard tripped over backwards and looked at the "referee" to stop the fight.

Moody rolled his real eye and threw his hand up.

"Stop," he growled.

"Tis only practice, Norse! Would you mind taking it a little easier?!" Liar yelled.

The glowing witch only shrugged as Moody walked over to him.

"Do you think your enemies are going to take it easy on you when they're out for your blood?! The ONLY way to deflect the Killing Curse is with an inanimate object! And depending on how powerful the caster, you need an object just as strong to receive it!"

"Short of He-who-must-not-be-named, I doubt anyone could cast a more potent curse than Norse. Summoning something smaller should do well enough against most! I don't have to go through that whole spell sequence just to bring up a rock!"

"No excuses! Someone could Imperius her and kill you then, couldn't they?! Or how about when you run into the Dark Lord himself?!"

"No. That's a bit of a stretch, Mad Eye."

"Be prepared for anything! Constant Vigilance! AGAIN!"

Liar sighed, as he reluctantly got up to resume training.

At the same time, Grimm turned to Kingsley.

"You should be using the Killing Curse too."

"The Ministry only puts up with Moody casting the Unforgivables. If I were detected using one, they would launch a full investigation. Confringo produces similar enough effect."

"But not mentally."

Kingsley stared at Grimm, not knowing how seriously to take her.

"Nothing simulates a real life threatening spell."

"Grimm…"

"You need to stop taking it easy on me. I can tell you're holding back. I appreciate the gesture, really I do. You're probably the most decent one in all this…" She gave him a vicious look. "—But you need to stop screwing around and start trying to kill me."

Kingsley paused and then solemnly nodded.

As they walked to their respective dueling positions once again, Liar called over.

"Perhaps we should switch partners! If you're looking for someone to try and kill you, Norse has been staring at my head like she's trying out ten different ways to separate it from my body!"

Fifteen, the words floated across.

"Eeeeeeee…"

"Probably won't come at me the same. I'm not a Death Eater, after all," Grimm shouted back.

Liar smiled.

"That would be former Death Eater."

"Still have your tattoo."

"Unlike some poorly blue-dyed streaks that wear off with time, this ink is permanent."

Avada Kedavra!

The emerald curse from Grimm's wand surged towards Liar.

When the stream was about to pass near his feet, the boy slipped into thin air, and Reapparated farther away, while the attack chiseled a hole in the ground.

"DON'T talk about my hair," Grimm said with a fury.

"Yeesh. Struck a nerve, did I?"

"Liar." Moody's voice cut through the tension like a knife. "Don't talk about her hair." He turned to Grimm. "And you! Don't go using the Killing Curse so recklessly, even if you were missing on purpose."

"Served a good point, didn't it? He doesn't need to practice defense if he can Disapparate in the blink of an eye. Seems more his style."

"You think that makes up for it?" Moody pressed.

"No. Just an evaluation of my team."

"Stop. That attitude is going to lead you to a foolish mistake one day. Stow it. Now!"

"…Yes, sir," Grimm answered firmly.

Moody had recounted all kinds of stories to her about how some of the greatest witches and wizards of their time had done themselves in on idiotic mistakes. Tripping over themselves in critical moments, all because of a big head. "Constant vigilance!" he'd end the morale of the tale with.

Though Grimm could be headstrong at times, she never liked disappointing Moody. The young witch always heeded his advice when it came down to it. Her mentor had taken care of her beyond the relationship of student and teacher. He was her father in her time of need and Grimm would never turn her back on that, always holding him in the highest respect.

"All of you get back to work! Seems I need to greet our guest."

Moody's Magic Eye jittered towards the ceiling. He then walked over to an empty soda can in the middle of the underground stadium and ported upon contact.

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The portkey warped Moody into his house above the bunker.

It was a humble little building. The rooms were cluttered with all manner of devices and books. Furniture was old and dusty. It served its use as a front for the underground base and nothing more.

The man limped into the living room to find a tall wizard looking over some old photos on the shelf.

"How goes their progress?" Dumbledore asked.

"Fine, for the most part. Norse has mastered the Killing Curse. Liar's proficient at the Imperius. Grimm is talented in both."

"And the Cruciatus?"

"Nothing. They're getting under each other's skin, but not enough to make them want to torture each other—even for practice. Doubt they can put it on a stranger."

"I see."

"Might be a good thing they aren't able to perform it. That one takes a toll on the caster as well as its victims. Requires a touch of sadism I'd rather they didn't develop."

"It will be useful for their interrogation work."

"If Liar's talent in Legilimency keeps developing the way it is, it'll make a good enough replacement."

Dumbledore neither concurred nor opposed the statement, but merely nodded in acknowledgment.

"So? What brought you here? Must be something to pull you from the school on a non-holiday."

"Hm. I believe time has come to put them into the field. Circumstances have arisen, presenting an opportunity for them to test their skills."

Moody grunted and pondered it for a moment.

"I'll get 'em ready."

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In the training facility's locker room, Grimm was drying her hair. When she pulled the towel away, some of her blue dye had stained the cloth.

The witch snatched at the strands and looked in one of the mirrors hanging from the wall. In her reflection, she saw the color was indeed fading. The blue was hardly noticeable now.

She sighed and pointed her wand at select strands.

Careful… Careful…

"Crinus Muto."

White light flashed and her whole head colored bright turquoise.

Damn it! I should have asked her how to do it!

"HAHAHAHAHA!"

Grimm heard roaring laughter behind her and saw that it was Liar. Beside him was Norse, who was also cackling silently. She threw them both a sharp glare, which stopped Liar, but not Norse.

The blonde witch gave her a challenging look, as if daring the other to make a move.

Liar quickly put himself between the two girls, holding his hands up.

"Now, now, let's not fight. We are to function as a unit, correct? Grimm. I apologize for my previous behavior commenting on your hair, as well as my current behavior of laughing at it."

"Do you really mean that?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Hmph."

"Allow me to assist you. Enchanting appearances requires a more…delicate hand," Liar offered.

"You expect me to trust you?"

The edge of Liar's mouth pulled up slightly.

"Even if I did possess a prankster's intent, would I be able to change your hair into something worse than it is now?"

"…Point made. Get on with it, then."

Liar walked behind Grimm and, like a barber, directed her face forward. The boy took out his wand and tapped her head.

"Colovaria."

The witch's hair instantly restored to its original jet black color.

Liar rested his wand on his ear and a hand to his chin, as he began imagining how to proceed with the next step. It was an exaggerated imitation of a barber that got a few smiles from Norse, but a stern look from Grimm.

"Just do it like it was before."

"What? Come now, I can style it much better than how it was."

"I'm partial to how it was."

The emphasis contained a hint of warning. Liar, remembering what happened earlier, decided not to press the matter.

"Very well, very well. I will try replicating it to the best of my abilities."

Liar held his wand again and touched the tip to some choice strands.

"Crinus…Muto."

A small speck of light glowed from the wand's tip. The black strands it touched turned into dark, night blue. Liar traced his wand from the root of the hair to the end. When he finished with one streak, he repeated the process on another.

After several strokes, the boy stuck his wand in his mouth and played with the witch's hair. He proclaimed the job done, took a hand mirror, and showed Grimm the various angles to check if it was to her liking.

She couldn't help but admire the good work he did. The witch actually cared very little about it appearance-wise; so long as it was decent. The hair style served more as vestige rather than beauty, but she was still pleasantly surprised with the results.

"Well? Does the do suit the young lady?" Liar posed playfully.

"It does. Thank you, Liar."

The young wizard was taken a bit back by the straightforward gratitude. He broke into a grin after recovering and started tying up her hair into its usual pony tail.

"When it wears off, allow me to fix it up again."

"I might take you up on that."

As the atmosphere grew warmer, something chilling invaded its presence.

Grimm eyed Liar's forearm that bore the Dark Mark. It seemed Norse had taken renotice of it as well. The boy wizard felt their stares and shrugged with a bitter smile.

Despite the stagnant air, Grimm wanted to keep communications open.

"What made you become a Death Eater? How were you chosen for the Forgiven? I think if you told us your circumstances, we wouldn't be so—"

"You want to tell us why you go bat shite crazy about your hair?" Liar asked with an empty smile.

"Hey."

"Same thing, right? It's a sore subject; some story behind it, I imagine. We all have our scars, so I believe it would be more prudent to just leave matters be."

Grimm stared at Liar for a moment.

"Alright. Fair enough."

"Glad we could come to an agreement."

A quiet second passed between them.

"…Sorry," Grimm said after a time.

"…I am too. I started the whole mess, didn't I?"

In the silence of the heavy atmosphere, the two heard a loud banging on one of the lockers. They turned to see Norse having a fit, as she found the whole thing highly entertaining. She took her wand and began writing in scratchy words,

Look at you lot. Bonding and squabbling like a couple of crows! So small and petty. Arguing about tattoos and hair like foolish children.

"So scribbles the giant with childish handwriting." Liar crossed his arms. "You'd think a big brain would accompany that big head of yours, but no. Just more blazing, mustard hair than anything."

Hmph! I remain unfazed by your insults. My stature and hair are the proud signs of my heritage. The blood of the great Thor courses in my heart and through my veins.

Liar and Grimm shared a look.

""Thor?"" they both asked.

"Like…the Thor?" Grimm asked for clarification.

Yes, Thor. The most powerful mage to ever walk the earth. Master of the skies and land, who wielded lightning sorcery that could tear the world asunder!

"Oh…So, not the god one: the hero of myth, who wielded the hammer Mjolnir," Liar commented.

Mjolnir is the name of my ancestor's legendary wand.

Grimm tilted her head. "It could be the same person. Many famous witches and wizards have been misinterpreted as gods or even creatures over time."

"Ah!" Liar snapped his fingers. "Like Medusa. Muggles always make her out to be some snake haired monster, but she was just a mad snake conjurer. Think she has descendants too."

"Still, now it explains Norse's whole…Viking thing. Not to mention her name."

Hmph. Now do you understand my strength of character is levels above yours?

"Heh. Careful, Norse. Even gods can be humbled," Grimm grinned.

That a challenge, little blue bird?

"Anytime, blondie. You're all power and no substance. Which makes you just a giant paperweight."

Norse stood up and gripped her wand tightly. Grimm did the same.

"You know, we're supposed to be a secret group. We might have to shave your head bald if your hair keeps glowing like that. It could give our position away at the wrong moment."

"Hahahaha! That would be a sight to behold! But you are correct. Now that I think about it, I still haven't paid you back for practice earlier, Norse." Liar also readied his wand.

Bring it on, you pathetic wurms.

As a brawl was about to erupt, the door to the locker room banged open.

"What is going on here?!"

Standing beside Moody were Dumbledore and Kingsley. They all looked at the Forgiven with judging stares. Grimm, Liar, and lastly, Norse lowered their wands and stood at attention.

All was silent for a moment.

"Are we sure they are ready, Dumbledore?" Kingsley cautioned.

"They are not required to work together for the first few missions. It will be fine," Dumbledore calmly replied.

The three Forgiven raised their eyebrows.

"Missions? We're being deployed?" Grimm asked.

Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"That is correct. The time is ripe to put your skills to the test."