R e f u s e
(Victim refuses to be rescued)
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December started the next day, and with it came reports of how utterly pathetic the new Gryffindor team was, and how confident he was about the Slytherin one. But I was so glad to be on such good terms with Mr. Snape that I had forgotten something.
That night Snape was called unexpectedly away to a Death Eater meeting, and he simply vanished.
For a week.
I was worried out of my skull for him. I knew he couldn't die – he hadn't, in the books – but he was gone.
But the more pressing issue was the fact that I had no food. I had water, sure; he had a bathroom and a fully functioning sink. But I had absolutely no food.
At nights I couldn't sleep. I was starving, and I was all alone in the dark in a big, scary castle – even if it was Hogwarts – and no one knew I was here, and if I died, or was about to die, no one would know, no one could save me. I was terrified.
I tried to distract myself with The Odyssey. I read nearly half of it during that week, miserable and hungry though I was. I sat as still as I could, thinking to preserve energy. My body had fat preserves, right? I thought hysterically to myself one night, if I didn't move, I'd use less of them.
What if no one came to save me? What if Severus – here, in my terror, I had started to think of him by his first name – didn't come back?
But he had to. He came back in the book.
It was around Friday that Fawkes showed up.
I woke up one morning and there he was, sitting at the edge of my open wardrobe, crooning softly to me. He was absolutely unmistakable and I recognized him instantly. He had these huge wings like an albatross but he was bright, bright red with a tail that reminded me of a quetzal. He was beautiful, and I, being the strange girl I am, told him so. He cooed in appreciation.
"Severus said I would find a girl in here, and she might like some food." An old man smiled at me from around one of Severus' chairs. He, too, was utterly unmistakable.
"Mr. D-Dumbledore!" I breathed, staring at him. Fawkes crooned softly from beside me. Hesitantly, I got out of the wardrobe.
"I—" I started, and then my eyes landed on the food Mr. Dumbledore had brought me.
I do not think you understand just how hungry I was. I practically lunged at the food, and had taken a huge bite out of a sandwich before pausing and looking at the white-bearded man. I swallowed.
He just smiled and gestured. "Eat, child."
I needed no more urging. I inhaled about three large sandwiches before slowing down and trying out the fruit. Dumbledore was smiling at me.
"Don't eat too much, you'll make yourself sick," he said gently. Fawkes, sitting beside me on the arm of the chair I had fallen into, rubbed his head against my shoulder.
"Severus tells me," Dumbledore continued as I slowed down, "that you are from a place where everything that goes on here is in a book. Is this true?"
Chills suddenly raced down my spine. I know, it was only Dumbledore, but there was something in his voice that frightened me.
There is no good and evil, I thought to myself, my private adaptation of Quirrel's speech in the first movie, only power, and how you use it. Dumbledore wanted to win this war, no matter the cost.
Harry never described this, but maybe it was because he trusted Dumbledore utterly. Maybe it was because Harry is a wizard. Maybe I had just spent so much time with Severus that he'd rubbed off on me. But as a Muggle, Dumbledore scared me. With Voldemort there had been frozen terror, but with Dumbledore, there was this underlying power that made my stomach knot uneasily.
He scared me and my mind flashed a reason to me that suddenly made perfect sense: Dumbledore's side wasn't good, either. Anyone reading this know US history? If you do, then you're familiar with the court case Plessey v. Ferguson, where the outcome was the clause "Separate but equal." I realized just then that that was what Dumbledore was fighting for: Segregation. Inequality. Voldemort was fighting for the same thing, just more pronounced and violent.
If either won, I thought, it still wouldn't help the Muggles. Ignorance, if Dumbledore won, or subordination and death if Voldemort did.
Lesser of two evils, I thought quickly. Dumbledore is the way, way lesser of two evils.
"Y-yes," I replied, not looking him in the eye. Legemency, remember.
The man smiled gently. I felt the power behind it. "Then you'll know that Arthur Weasley was bitten by Voldemort's snake."
My head shot up. "Stupid," I muttered to myself, "Of c-course." That's why Severus was missing; he was busy cleaning up the mess from both sides.
"Do you think," Dumbledore asked soothingly, and my heart started pounding, "You can tell me how Harry's dreams work?"
Oh. Dear.
Now here was a problem. If I told Dumbledore, he would know that Harry's dreams were planned by Voldemort, and Sirius would not die.
I could save his life.
I would also change the book, and who knows how that would turn out? I shivered.
"I—" I started, looking up. I met his blue eyes and then gave a little yelp of pure terror, scrambling back. Fawkes looked alarmed.
His eyes were warm, but there was a coolness behind that, something calm and calculated. I swear the man was not human. He was mortal, yes, but there was something very, very frightening about him.
"You've nothing to be afraid of," He said softly. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"You c-could change it," I babbled, "I don't know what would happen – you'd change the b-book and it would be b-bad and I don't know—"
"Hm," he murmured, "I see. But perhaps I could change it so that our side will win?"
I shook my head violently and came up with a lie. I have no idea how it got there, it was just like bang and there it was. "Harry has t-to tell you," I blurted, not looking at him.
"Hmm," was all he said.
There was a silence. I ate some more fruit. I reflected hysterically on how much I liked strawberries.
"Perhaps," Dumbledore said after a time, "we ought to bring you to Headquarters – more convenient, and certainly safer than the castle, wouldn't you say?"
He wanted me safely within his territory.
I was about to protest that I rather liked it here, thank you, but then remembered that it was Christmas, and that I didn't know where Severus would be.
I nodded shyly at Dumbledore, and he smiled and rose. I moved back to my wardrobe and began to gather my things.
I stuffed my Odyssey in my bag as well as the various things I had taken out. I hunted for my calculator – the stupid thing always gets lost – and then found it under my mattress. I stuffed my extra clothes in, too. Finally, I zipped up my bag and grabbed my jacket.
Dumbledore was waiting.
I stepped out of the wardrobe and then looked back. This might be the last time I ever see it, I remember thinking to myself. I was Dumbledore's asset, now, and no longer in Severus' care.
"H-hang on," I said.
I'm a sort of sentimental person. I can't really help it. I took one of the candles Severus had given me in a fit of kindness and carefully put it in one of my pockets.
Dumbledore offered his hand, and I took it, and before I knew it we were whizzing through the Floo network.
We stumbled in through a fireplace. Or, rather, I stumbled, and Dumbledore landed. He helped me up.
"GET THE FILTHY MUGGLE OUT OF HERE!" someone howled, and I jumped about a mile. Dumbledore smiled at me and opened his mouth to explain.
"Don't b-bother," I muttered, "I know who it is."
And I did. The infamous Mrs. Black was screeching at me from the next room over. There was a loud thunk as if someone had thrown something at the picture I knew to be there, and then about three softer thunks.
Like someone with a peg, rather than a leg. Moody, my mind whispered.
The door opened, and there he was. I tried hard not to gape.
I don't think Harry explained, to its fullest, how grotesque this man was. He didn't tell anyone about the huge scar around Moody's magical eye, so huge that the man didn't even have an eyebrow. One of his ears seemed deformed by the amount of scars on it. He was missing his nostril, and his mouth just looked like another scar. The magical eye was large and round and electric-blue, and it spun crazily, once, and then landed on me. I gulped. The brown eye, the normal one, landed on me, too.
He thunked over to us.
"So this is Snape's Muggle," he growled. Really, 'growled' is the only way to describe it. He sounded like a lion, or a tiger, like some huge predator.
I couldn't look at him. I was quaking in my sneakers.
The single eyebrow raised when I peeked at him, then looked down.
"No one's going to hurt you, here, Muggle," he growled again.
They could do me the courtesy of knowing my name, I thought grouchily. Then again, Severus didn't even call me by it, so I shouldn't've expected these people to know it.
"I know," I said softly. It was a mistake, because as soon as I opened my mouth I started babbling. "But, I m-mean there weren't any-any Muggles in the book and what-what if you try to control m-me or-or-or pump me for information and use it and change the b-book and then—and then—" I don't think that they got a word of that, because once I had started, I couldn't stop and like a runaway train I kept going faster and faster until I'm sure it was only gibberish spewing forth from my mouth.
"Calm down," Dumbledore soothed, "We only want to protect you, here."
I think they wanted to use me more than protect me. I closed my mouth, but didn't look at them. "W-where's Mr. Snape?" I asked quietly.
Moody huffed. "The Death Eater abandoned you, girl, and you still want to see him?"
My head snapped up and I glared at him. Severus wasn't just a Death Eater. Well, no, he was one, but he was a spy – sort of – he was on the Order's side …sort of… and shouldn't he trust him? Dumbledore did! Then again, Voldemort did, too, and…
I was very confused. I wanted Severus to be the good guy, but the 'good guys,' now that I had met them, didn't seem so good to me. Dumbledore scared the living daylights out of me. Then again, Voldemort was scarier. I took a deep, steadying breath.
"Yes," I said softly and clearly.
"He hurt you," Moody growled, looking angry. "See, Albus? The man is a traitor! He didn't tell us about the girl and he hurt her, look, she's keeping up an act—"
"I am not!" I squawked.
"Don't interrupt me," Moody snapped at me. I shrank back. He sighed. "I apologize," he said gruffly, "I shouldn't've snapped at you. You've got nothing to be afraid of, here. You're safe, here."
I was safe with Severus, I wanted to say, he never tried to pump me for information unless he was going to a Death Eater mission, and then both he and I censored it so it wouldn't give away too much, so it wouldn't change the book, but would keep Voldemort happy…
I looked away from Moody. The man nodded. "We've prepared some rooms for her," he growled to Dumbledore, who must have gestured – I didn't see because I was studying my sneakers. Moody patted my shoulder. "Follow me, Muggle," he murmured, and then stumped away. I shifted my bag and followed.
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