Chapter Nine
One of Them
:.:.:
When the green flames subsided and I stepped out from the fireplace, I immediately knew where I stood. The room in Harris Manor was dark, but a pale moon's glow spilled in and lit it just enough for me to find my way out. As I made my way down the hall, I detected looming voices. Approaching the drawing room I heard them clearly, just behind the wall.
"Well where is the rat now?" I heard Dolohov demand to know. "And who left him in charge of the Dark Lord?!"
"Calm yourself, Antonin," came Malfoy's smooth voice. "The Mark is darkening...burning, is it not? He must be doing something right."
"For once."
"Malfoy's right," said Grandad; my heart sank. For a moment, I'd forgotten he was a part of them. "The Dark Lord is growing stronger every day."
I'd forgotten I was to be a part of them. But that was, after all, the entire reason I came home. So before their meeting could proceed any further, I revealed myself from behind the wall and stepped through the threshold. All eyes turned to me, Death Eaters seated all around the room.
"Demetria," greeted Turner, sounding rather pleased to see me. I always had a feeling he was smitten with me.
They all looked to me with polite smiles, except Grandad who simply appeared surprised.
"Sweetheart, what're you doing home?" He seemed apprehensive.
But before I could even concoct an excuse, Malfoy intervened. "I'm sure Karkaroff let something slip. I'm just surprised you didn't bring Draco."
Grandad stood up from the table and made his way over to me where I still stood just past the threshold. "It's really not necessary for you to attend this meeting, Demetria," he told me before realizing something. "How did you get here?"
"Dumbledore said it would be good for me to spend some time at home for a while." It was technically true.
"Well when d'you think you'll be going back?" His voice was quiet yet urgent.
"I'm not," I told him.
He still looked worried. Why was he so worried? "What about...the tournament?"
"The tournament doesn't matter to me," I said before walking past him and over to the table. "This is what matters to me."
Even as I said it, I knew it wasn't true. But all those seated at the table looked to me with fondness and respect; all but Malfoy. His expression, much like Grandad's when he came back over, was unreadable.
"This calls for a celebration," declared Nigel Mulciber; his fist pounded the table in excitement.
"This calls for the Mark," Dolohov suggested, smirking.
I wondered then if my face spilled out anything I was feeling inside. It was as though my heart froze, my stomach dropped, a giant weight fell upon my shoulders and every breath I inhaled for wasn't enough. To bear the Dark Mark...
"That's preposterous," affirmed Grandad at once. "She's just a young girl, and at school someone is bound to see —"
"You heard her, she isn't going back," Dolohov reminded.
"She's no hermit, she'll be out and about enough for someone to catch a glimpse," Grandad continued to oppose.
"She may go back to school," Malfoy added airily, though he almost looked as on-edge as Grandad.
"Well what does she have to say about this?" asked Dolohov, all eyes in the room focusing on me.
I must've managed to keep calm because I wasn't receiving any odd or concerned looks. However, I wished the same could've been said for my interior. What was I to do? I had just committed myself to the cause in front of them all. How would it look if I rejected the Mark? I couldn't...but I didn't want it either! But there was a third option. Luckily, I was exhausted enough already to pull it off.
–
When I 'came back to', Grandad was still seated at the side of my bed.
"W-what happened?" I asked, feigning confusion.
"You passed out," he said, placing a hand on my forehead. "Not to worry though, I'm sure you were simply overwhelmed. You've had a long night and it was late." He removed his hand.
"What time is it now?" I was now becoming genuinely groggy.
"Nearly three in the morning," he replied. I guess I really had dozed off. "Get some sleep, sweetheart."
But as he rose from my bed, I spoke again. "Why didn't you want me to have it?"
The silence seemed louder then, before he answered. "Tozi zhivot ne e za vas." (This life is not for you) And that was when I knew we weren't alone. My eyes swept the room and found no one, but when they returned back to my Grandad's, he shifted his toward my door. Probably Turner or someone lurking outside, maybe to ensure I was alright.
"Mislekh, che iskash tova za men." I exchanged. (I thought you wanted this for me)
Even in the darkness, I could see his eyes begin to glitter with tears. "Nikoga za vas," he said softly. (Never for you)
"No prez vsichkite tezi godini —" (But all these years)
He stopped me, placing his hand on the side of my face, and repeated "Nikoga za vas," Then he stood up — "Shte govorim poveche, kogato tova e bezopasno." — and made his way to the door. "Goodnight." (We'll talk more when it is safe)
"Goodnight," I returned. I then heard Grandad begin to converse with whoever stood outside my door just before he shut it.
His words demanded to be heard inside my head no matter how much I tried to shut them out. This life is not for you. Never for you. We'll talk more when it is safe.
Not for you.
Never.
When it is safe.
Not.
Never.
Safe.
Safe...
...safe...
:.:.:
Was I happy with how the Yule Ball ended with Demetria? Obviously not. But was I thrilled to see her and Cedric... Well, you know. No! But did that mean I wished to no longer see her face around Hogwarts? Certainly not. But that was what happened...
I'd borrowed Pigwidgeon from Ron nearly every day to owl her, even voiced my concern to Fred and Lee, but they always suggested she simply went home for the rest of the holiday. And as much as I wanted to believe it, how could it've been true? I asked Finn, Ginny, Hermione, Viktor, Grigor, even Malfoy...even Cedric! None had heard from her since the ball. And on the first day classes were scheduled to resume, she was still no where to be found.
"All of her things are still in the cabin," Finn told me that evening on the way to dinner. "Maybe she just wanted an extra day off, mate."
"You don't reckon it's cause of me, d'you?" What if it was my fault she didn't want to come back? Merlin's beard...I wish she would let me apologize.
Finn looked as though he might say something comforting, but realization flickered and his face fell. That was all the response I needed.
Upon entering the Great Hall, I made a bee-line for the staff table in an effort to find Dumbledore. He was already seated at the head and eating.
"Excuse me, sir, sorry to bother you," I said as I approached him. He looked up from his plate with nothing but a smile twinkling in his eyes.
"Not a bother at all, Mr. Weasley," he assured. "To what do I owe this visit?"
"It's Demetria," I said at once. "She left unannounced the night of the Yule Ball and still isn't back."
"My apologies, Mr. Weasley, but I gave Miss Harris the opportunity to return home for the holiday," shared Dumbledore with genuine sympathy. "She wasn't feeling at all herself."
"Then wouldn't she be back by now?" I asked without expecting an answer, and when his eyes scanned the hall behind me, I spoke again. "She hasn't kept in touch with anyone... Professor, we got into a bit of a row the night she left...I'm afraid I'm the reason she hasn't returned."
Dumbledore's eyes returned to mine.
"I've owled her every day and she never responded. You don't reckon something's happened, d'you?"
After a long moment, he stood silently and made his way around the long staff table to stand before me. "Come with me," he instructed, commencing his way toward the exit. "I have a far more effective method of communication."
We came to the corridor holding the entrance to the castle that Durmstrang and Beuxbatons students took. Glancing out into the blanket of snow which covered the grounds, I saw not one small footprint among the large ones coming from the ship. A pang of guilt stabbed at me once again.
"Tell me, Mr. Weasley, have you ever been successful in casting a Patronus?" Dumbledore looked to me with curiosity, his wand at the ready.
I retrieved mine from my back pocket. "No, sir," I admitted. "But I'm a quick learner."
"Very good, then," Dumbledore smiled. "I take it you are aware of what a Patronus is, yes?"
"Well yes but, er, how is that going to help me?"
"Patience, Mr. Weasley." But he spoke calmly, his smile remaining. And then at once, a stream of silver-white light had flowed from the wand, quickly shaping itself into a white, translucent Phoenix. Dumbledore then lowered his wand, the silver thread between it and the Phoenix disappearing then. He stepped closer to it and whispered something to it. The Phoenix then turned to me and opened its beak, Dumbledore's voice emitting from it.
"They can also relay messages," it said; and then it was gone just as quickly.
I looked to the Headmaster in relative awe. "How did you...?"
"First, you must...think of a memory," he began simply.
"A memory, sir?"
"Yes, but not just any," he clarrified. "Think of the happiest you can ever remember being, and focus on it. Allow it to fill you up until you feel that happiness once again now. And then, recite the incantation...Expecto Patronum."
"Expecto Patronum," I repeated to ensure I heard correctly.
"Precisely."
I nodded and proceeded to close my eyes. The happiest I'd ever been? My initial thought was perhaps a prank with Fred, but racking through my mind, there weren't any that made me truly happy. So I decided on my first prank I'd ever pulled. The first time I'd walked into Zonko's. When Fred and I decided to open up our own joke shop.
And once I had it, I opened my eyes, wand at the ready, and incanted, "Expecto Patronum!"
A faint, vapor of smoke puffed out from my wand, but that was all.
"Happier," suggested Dumbledore airily.
Happier than pranks... Quidditch? Nah, not enough... What about Quidditch with Fred and Ron back at the Burrow? The Burrow! Being home with them and Ginny, Mum and Dad, Bill and Charlie when they're home, and even Percy... When Harry comes to stay and, sure, Hermione too! I imagined myself back at the Burrow with everyone sitting and eating together, laughing and telling stories. For a moment, I felt as though I was actually there.
"Expecto Patronum!"
At first, I thought it was simply another puff of smoke. But it transformed itself into a silvery, flowy...coyote. It wasn't at all like the Phoenix which had appeared almost solid, glowing white. My coyote was wispy, like an imaginative cloud of smoke. And I noticed, as soon as I grew disgruntled, it vanished.
"Very well done, Mr. Weasley," praised Dumbledore. "A Patronus is not the easiest task to accomplish, and you struggled far less than most wizards at their first go."
"It wasn't nearly as good as yours, sir," I confessed, almost sheepishly.
"Most first attempts are not," he explained. "But it will be enough to deliver a message. Now then, conjure it again."
I took a moment to recreate the scene at the Burrow in my head again. But this time, there was an addition. Perhaps because I now remembered I would be sending the message to her, I thought of Demetria; placed her in the Burrow. She sat next to me...close. I put my arm around her...she smiled.
"Expecto Patronum!"
There before me, stood a white coyote extending from my wand. Perfectly formed and glowing, it looked expectantly toward me and I looked to Dumbledore, smiling proudly.
"To Demetria Harris," he began for me.
Approaching the coyote, I took a knee and brought myself closer to its face. "To Demetria Harris," I parroted in a whisper. "I'm genuinely sorry for my actions at the Yule Ball...and I'm sorry if that's the reason you've left. I'll leave you be if that's what you want...but just...come back. Please, we're all worried... This is George Weasley, by the way...if you didn't know."
The moment I stood up, my coyote had taken off. I watched it run off into the snow and leave no footprints behind, until it came to the edge of the Forbidden Forest and disappeared.
"Will it be alright?" I asked curiously.
"Quite, Patronuses aren't like real animals," replied Dumbledore. "They're spirits. Though speaking of, I must say I wasn't expecting a coyote for you, Mr. Weasley."
"What then, a hyena perhaps?" I asked in jest.
"Certainly not," Dumbledore smiled. "Although...the coyote is more than a trickster. They tend to symbolize wisdom...energy...family orientation... Perhaps it is a nice fit for you."
"Thank you, Professor."
I was still in a mild state of shock that the difference between a wispy Patronus and a full-fledged one...was Demetria.
:.:.:
I wonder if Mum ever had to do this...
I stood outside a popular Muggle bar and club in London by the name of Lost Angel. From the front window, I could barely see a thing on the inside — it was dimly lit and glowing blue. Those under 18 were not admitted, so I was given something Grandad said the Muggles called a 'fake I.D.' in order to get in. It was a little plastic card with my picture and fake information on it, which I retrieved from a small black wristlet I had secured around my wrist. The wristlet, much like my outfit, was not my decision. I was wearing a skin tight, short, black dress and about 6 bloody inches of black heels. All I had to warm me against the frigid January air was a small, red coat...well, and tights but they were lacey... Even the red lipstick which coated my lips was not my idea, though the rest of my makeup was. Ever since the Yule Ball, I began wearing eye makeup.
Ugh, the Yule Ball...
No, don't think about that now, I told myself. Just focus. Remember why you're here.
And perhaps it was because I was beginning to spend far too much time with the Death Eaters constantly at my house, but I didn't exactly feel bad for what I was about to do. Then again, maybe I truly was cut out for this life. But Grandad didn't want it for me...I still never got the chance to talk to him about that...
"It looks much better from inside," came a voice. I turned to see it was the gentleman in all black standing at the door. He smiled and opened it for me. Guess I didn't need the I.D. "Go on in, love."
Love. I thought of George.
Will you stop? I tried telling myself again.
And with that, I immediately shook the thought out of my mind, smiled at the man, and walked in. As soon as I did, loud music consumed my ears and I swore I could feel it in my heartbeat. I made a bee-line for the bar and took a seat; I wasn't sitting alone for long.
The bartender came over and placed a glass of amber liquid before me. "Compliments of that gentleman, over there," he said, indicating to the rather young looking man on the other side of the bar. Not as young as I, certainly, but he couldn't have been anything older than 20, if that. And he was incredibly handsome.
The bloke smiled, and when I returned it, he got up and made his way over. I took a sip of the amber liquid before he did, just in case it was a taste I had to get used to. It wasn't all that bad, but it was very sweet...and caused a burning sensation in my chest for a moment. Luckily, I'd recovered by the time the bloke occupied the seat next to me.
"I don't believe I've ever seen you in here before," he said, smiling charmingly.
"I take it you're a regular, then?" I inquired.
"I wouldn't say that —"
"Got you a refill on the Jack Gelling, mate," said the bartender, sliding a tall beverage in front of the bloke, Jack.
I looked to him with a smirk.
"Alright so perhaps I am," he admitted with a small laugh. "But it's close by campus...sort of. D'you go to school around here?"
He's still in school? Do Muggles ever get out?
"No, I'm just here on holiday," I told him. Technically true.
"D'you have a place to stay?" he asked, still smiling.
Ugh, what a little prick, ran through my mind. Now I really don't feel bad at all for what I'm doing. But just like that, my feelings changed and a wave of guilt washed over me.
"Sorry, er, that was creepy," he apologized, hand wrapping around the back of his neck. "I just meant — family out here?"
"I wouldn't say that," he laughed at my use of his line. "I live over in Wiltshire, but I go to school in Norway."
"Norway?" he repeated incredulously. "Bloody hell, what for?"
"Adventure." I shrugged, taking another sip of my drink.
Jack appeared impressed. "So d'you speak any Norwegian?"
"Well, yes, but I'm far more fluent in Bulgarian," I told him.
His smile remained in tact, but he began shaking his head.
"What?" I inquired, giggling.
"You can't be that good," he said simply. "This is all too good to be true. You're like no one I've ever met before."
If he thought all of that was impressive, I could only imagine his reaction if he saw me use magic.
"It's all true," I insisted.
"Prove it," he challenged. "Say something in Bulgarian."
"Moeto ime e Demetria," I said effortlessly.
"Sorry, Demetria, but I'm afraid anyone could master 'My name is' in any language," he said in jest.
"You didn't let me finish." I smirked; he gave me an indication to continue.
"Moeto ime e Demetria. Az sŭm veshtitsa. Az otivam da vi otvede do kŭshtata mi. Mozhete da umra tam. Tolkova sŭzhalyavam." (My name is Demetria. I'm a witch. I'm going to take you to my house. You may die there. I'm so sorry)
Jack looked to me in awe. When he composed himself, he said, "Well you could've just made all of that up and —"
"Oh, shut up," I teased, slapping his arm; he laughed. "It was all real Bulgarian."
"So what'd you say?" he inquired.
"That I think you're very sweet and handsome, and I'd like for you to come back to my house," I coolly said.
Jack appeared a bit surprised at first, but collected himself and simply gave me the same charming smile as when he first came over. "I'd love to."
Muggle transportation was so inconvenient, but that's what we had to take. Jack got us something called a taxi, a little black box of a car, and this unfortunately left us with quite a period of talking time. And once I found myself starting to enjoy his company, I almost wished I'd picked up someone less interested in talking, if you know what I mean. So I made the first move, just with a simple peck on the cheek. But it caused him to stop mid-sentence and turn to face me with a sly grin. I forced a giggle and looked away. Next thing I knew, his hand had brought my face back and our lips met. That was pretty much how it stayed for the remainder of the drive.
We arrived in front of Harris Manor, Jack paying the driver and then stepping out of the taxi with me.
"What, this is it?" he teased.
"You're an arse," I returned in jest. The taxi drove off and I began walking toward the house, Jack following behind.
"Speaking of arse...ladies first has it's advantages." He then proceeded to whistle and I turned back to look at him smirking.
"Alright, let's go," I said, though still smiling, ushering him along until he walked beside me. When we reached the front door, I didn't even have to unlock it. I simply turned the doorknob and stepped inside, shutting the door behind Jack.
"D'you always leave it unlocked?" he asked with a bit of a laugh.
"No, but I'm sure my grandad was expecting me." My voice seemed quiet then. I'd nearly forgotten.
"Er, your grandad's home?" Jack then seemed rather embarrassed.
"No," I told him simply.
He looked to me with confusion, but all I had to do to change that was come close and lock my arms around his neck. Jack then closed the small bridge between us and began kissing me again. I started backing up down the hall leading to the drawing room, and though it was dark, I knew my way.
"Relax," Jack advised in reference to how on edge I was. I couldn't help it, I was growing worried about what was about to happen. But after a moment, it didn't seem like it ever would. "You said no one was home."
"Yeah." I smiled and decided to pretend it was true. After all, it certainly seemed that way.
So I relaxed, and allowed myself to enjoy the next time Jack's lips found mine. I finally was able to focus on it, and I could taste the mixing of the liquors on our tongues. I could hear him feeling around for furniture and finally found the couch, lowering me on to it. But as soon as I could feel his body on top of mine, the feeling vanished. I opened my eyes to find the lights flicked on, Death Eaters now entering the room and one of them holding Jack who was struggling to break free. It was Turner, in a bit of a jealous rage, no doubt. I watched Grandad walk in last; he couldn't even meet my eyes.
"Well done, Demetria," said Dolohov admiringly.
I couldn't even bring myself to look at Jack. I stood up from the couch and faced the other way.
"What is this?" asked Jack. "Demetria, what's going on? Is this some sort of gang?"
"Crucio!" cried Dolohov, wand pointed at Jack who was released by Turner and fell to the floor; he cried out in agony. It was only then that I looked at him. "Silence, you filthy Mudblood!"
"De-Deme — Help!" He continued to writhe on the ground in pain, twisting and squirming like a worm. A helpless worm...
"Didn't you hear him?!" Mulciber joined in then. "Crucio! Bite your tongue, Mudblood!"
I could only imagine such a pain. It was almost as though I could feel it inside myself as I watched it surge throughout Jack once again. This time I could hear tears, and then I saw them when his eyes met my own. I couldn't look away. As much as I didn't want to watch him as he was hit with the Cruciatus Curse again, I physically couldn't move my gaze from where he held it. Jack looked straight at me and screamed. I turned my back to him.
"Oi, what's the matter with this one?" came Thorfinn Rowle. "She didn't even flinch when she watched the World Cup fall to shambles!"
"She and Draco were running away," Malfoy defended. "I told them to."
"They're to be Death Eaters, Lucius!"
"They're only children!" cried out Grandad.
"You stay out of this, old man!" shouted Lucas Avery before I heard a crash.
Whipping around, I saw Grandad being thrown across the room into the bookshelf just with a flick of Avery's wand. I immediately retrieved mine from down the back of my dress, secured under my bra hook, and aimed for Avery. But before I could even think to cast a spell, my wand was taken by Dolohov using his own.
"The Dark Lord may not question your loyalty, but I do!" announced Avery, wand still drawn toward Grandad.
"ENOUGH!" Dolohov shouted. Everyone fell silent and still...everyone except Jack. He remained on the floor, whimpering and wincing. Dolohov returned my wand to me and stood behind me, hands on my shoulders. "Do it," he whispered in my ear. "Make him beg for his life." And in the moment I held Jack's gaze once again, I began convincing myself to do it...
It was just a Muggle...
I wonder if Mum ever had to do this.
I didn't even know the bloke.
The Order of the Phoenix wiped out quite a bit of Death Eaters. Some got off with serving life in Azkaban. Your parents...they weren't so lucky.
I had to make my parents proud.
You look just your mother, you know. But your father is definitely in there as well.
And my grandfather...
This life is not for you.
But how could I?
Dobby thinks you would make a wonderful Gryffindor, Miss Demetria!
"Do it now."
I mean you've got to do what you want, it's your life after all.
My eyes couldn't leave Jack's.
You've just got to be…true to yourself. And don't be afraid to let that heart of yours decide, Princess.
"Crucio!" I casted it...but not on Jack.
Dolohov sunk to the ground, releasing a brief cry of suffering, but that was it. I'd forgotten all about the initiation to become a Death Eater...
"Why, you little — !" Dolohov grabbed my ankle from the ground and pulled me down before I could run away. Though I don't see how I would've managed it; I was still wearing 6 inch heels.
But before plummeting to the ground, I watched Grandad attempt to rise up and defend me, but Dolohov was already on his feet. He made a sudden slashing movement with his wand from which flew a streak of what looked like purple flame. It passed right across Grandad's chest and he fell back to the floor, seemingly lifeless.
"Grandad!" I cried out, strained.
"Dear old Grandad's just checked out for a bit, love; nothing to worry about," came Mulciber cynically; others chuckled, though not all. Not Malfoy or Turner...and Dolohov was still looking rather furious.
"Oh, Antonin, do lighten up," Mulciber continued to smirk. "Demetria's just asking for the proper initiation."
Initiation to become a Death Eater requires more than the Dark Mark branded on your arm. I've seen that, and it seemed painful enough. But the other half...I've seen that too. It was Turner, actually, about two years ago, when I was 12 and he was 18, I watched him writhe in the pain of the Cruciatus Curse until he couldn't scream anymore and they say your body grows accustomed to it. I've also seen, however, some that never made it to that stage and simply went insane. I've seen one person die.
"Harris, you little imp." Dolohov began mirroring Mulciber's sly grin then.
"She's too young, she'll die!" Malfoy interjected, astonished that they would even suggest such a thing.
"Nonsense, she'll be fine!" insisted Avery. "Benjamin was around her age...and size!" He indicated over to Turner, others chuckling. "He made it out just fine."
"What d'you say, Demetria?" asked Dolohov.
I had gotten back on to my feet during their ickle exchange. "I say —"
"Crucio!"
Before I could even think to refuse, I was screaming. No, not screaming, it couldn't've been. It was so strained and yet ear-piercing. I'd never heard myself sound like this. I'd never been in so much pain before. How could I have watched Jack endure this? How was I enduring this? I screamed until I didn't even realize I was any longer, I grew so numb to it...but not to the pain. No, that remained as strong as ever. Like a white hot burning sensation throughout my body, building even behind my eyes. I could feel tears bubbling, but I refused to let Dolohov — or any of them, in fact — see me cry. And once the curse had lifted for a moment and I realized I was still screaming, I stopped and kept my mouth shut...because he hit me with it again.
It felt as though my bones were breaking and then growing back over and over. It felt as though my organs were continuously being blown up like fireworks. The blood in my veins boiled. My body writhed on the ground. I thought I was contorting it in some strange way, but that was unlikely. At one point, I was sure my torso had snapped in two, but I still never screamed. I had to bite down on the inside of my cheeks to prevent it from happening, and I was fairly certain my mouth was bleeding at that point.
The curse lifted once again, but this time it wasn't Dolohov's decision. Malfoy had snatched his wand from his grip, and the two began arguing. I honestly could barely hear a thing, my own screams were still ringing in my ears. I seized the opportunity to crawl off behind the couch. I knew it wouldn't do me any good to leave, the house was only so big, after all. So I just leaned my head up against the sofa and gripped at my rib cage. The pain still lingered.
Suddenly, a porcelain white...spirit...of an animal stood before me. It must've been a wolf or a coyote... It leaned in close to me, opened its mouth, and just when I thought I was delirious from the pain, I heard something that instantly brought me back — George Weasley.
"I'm genuinely sorry for my actions at the Yule Ball...and I'm sorry if that's the reason you've left. I'll leave you be if that's what you want...but just...come back. Please, we're all worried... This is George Weasley, by the way...if you didn't know."
The words...his voice...it came from this animal.
"George Weasley," I said admiringly in a hoarse whisper. My face did its best to smile.
At the mention of his name, the spirit leaned its ear to me. But I was suddenly pulled from the illusion that must've been, because someone had casted the Cruciatus Curse on me through the couch. This time I couldn't hold back; it caught me off guard and I released another cry of pain. Glass bones shattered...again. I could feel everything inside of me breaking, everything on the outside burning.
"Stop it!" I couldn't stand it any longer, I was so weak that I felt ill. "Please stop! Make it stop!"
"Antonin!" cried out Turner. "Enough!"
Dolohov ceased and I thanked Merlin I was still hidden because I certainly didn't want any of them to see what happened next. As silently as I could...I vomited.
"You know she isn't ready," said Turner quietly yet menacingly. "You tortured your Muggle, leave her out of it. She's fourteen for Merlin's sake."
"Always a buzzkill, eh, Benjy?" said Avery; he saw his way out, as did the rest.
"What a wanker," Mulciber agreed upon his exit.
Malfoy stayed for a moment, he and Turner moving Grandad — still unconscious — to the couch. He then looked to me with remorse and nodded to Turner before he departed as well.
Turner — er, Benjamin — draped his jacket around my shoulders, and I just realized I was shivering. I wasn't really cold...just in shock, I reckon. My eyes scanned the room for the coyote, but it was no where to be found. I s'posed it wasn't real, after all. My eyes, instead, found another still body on the floor. I rushed over and kneeled beside Jack.
I couldn't even find my voice, perhaps from the curse or even the tears that threatened to spill over and the lump in my throat. But I didn't even have to say a word, Benjamin was shaking his head. He appeared as genuinely sad as I did...perhaps he didn't want this life for himself either.
I found my voice then. "My fault."
"Absolutely not," Benjamin stated decisively. "And don't you ever think that."
All I could do was nod.
"We can...figure out what to, er, do with him in the morning, alright?" said Benjamin.
"Jack Gelling," I told him, standing up. "That was his name."
He nodded. "We can find his family."
And then I knew for a fact that Benjamin wasn't like the others, he didn't want this life. It chose him like it chose me. And I also realized he wasn't 'smitten with me', he was looking out for me...because he knew I was like him.
"D'you...er... Are you leaving?" I asked him somewhat sheepishly.
He looked toward the door that the other Death Eaters had vanished behind, shaking his head. "No, I'll stay."
I motioned for him to follow me as I began making my way for the staircase. "Reckon they'll come back?"
"Doubt it," Benjamin told me, following behind. "But you never really know with Dolohov."
The thought of waking up in the middle of the night to the breaking of my bones again... I lost my balance and nearly fell backwards off the stairs. Benjamin put his hand to my back to ensure I didn't.
"You should probably get out of those shoes," he suggested, amused.
I reached the top of the staircase and turned to face him. "Yeah," I agreed, not knowing what else to say. The thought still remained vivid in my mind. "Um, my grandad's room is...right there." I pointed to the white double doors.
"I don't think I'll be sleeping much tonight," Benjamin said darkly before offering a small smile. "But thank you."
I nodded and opened the door to my own room — my father's old bedroom. I'd left nearly every poster up from when he occupied it, most were even of him as a Tutshill Tornado. My favorite one hung above my bed: my father clutched the Quidditch World Cup from up on his broom, zoomed down to the ground where my mother waited for him, and kissed her. How could they have wanted this life? How could they have wanted it for me? I was beginning to think no one really wanted it, it was just the life chosen for them.
Finally kicking off those bloody heels, the skin-tight dress was next to go. But unfortunately, I'd forgotten there was a zipper in the back. Suddenly I wished Benjamin was actually a bit smitten with me, then perhaps it would've have been such an uncomfortable request. But regardless, I wanted to get out of the damn thing, so I made my way over to the double doors and knocked before opening one slightly.
"Come in, Demetria," said Benjamin's voice from the other side. I let myself in to find his back to me, gazing out the large, bay window before him. "Scared, already?" He seemed genuinely concerned, not just poking fun at me.
"Scared to ask a favor of you, actually," I admitted, walking over to him.
Benjamin pivoted, concern now seen etched upon his face. "What is it?"
I turned my back to him in response, collecting my hair and placing it all in front of one shoulder. I could hear him release a small breath of laughter. He didn't say a word, but I could feel the dress loosening as he brought the zipper down.
Just then, there came a loud thud from downstairs. My heart stopped, entire body frozen as though I were trapped in the Full Body-Bind Curse. It must've been Dolohov, back to finish what he'd started. I looked to Benjamin, he was already moving toward the door, wand out in front of him.
"Stay here," he advised, waiting for my nod of agreement before disappearing behind the door.
I waited a moment before running after him, though stopping at the top of the staircase. It was pitch black downstairs...and my wand was still somewhere in the drawing room. I heard someone say my name rather softly, a good distance away, and then I saw a jet of scarlet light shot out at the bottom of the stairs.
"Demetria?!" I knew that voice...
"Who the sodding hell are you?!" Benjamin called back.
"Are you the one who hurt her?!"
Benjamin didn't even have the chance to answer, because our house guest could be heard running and slamming into him. That was when I rushed down the stairs and tried my best to avoid being smacked into, feeling my way along the walls in order to find — the room was suddenly illuminated — the light.
"Demetria, I told you to stay upstairs," Benjamin scolded, though more gravely than angry, the fighting having come to a halt.
I wasn't even looking at him though, instead my eyes were soaring in the blue skies of nonother than George Weasley's.
"George, what're you doing here?" I asked him, shocked.
"You know this bloke?" Benjamin inquired.
But George ignored everything and tugged at Benjamin's collar. "I said, 'are you the one who hurt her'?!"
"He didn't hurt me!" I defended. George's eyes finally fell upon me, and they widened as soon as he realized what I was wearing. But after I self-consciously went to hold the back of my dress closed, that was when fire was back in George's eyes.
"Looks like he was about to!"
"What're you on about?" challenged Benjamin.
"Oh please, don't act so coy!" George shouted. "I hear Demetria screaming, see her dress nearly off — You filthy, miserable, prick!"
He swung his arm to punch Benjamin, but I leapt in to push it off course before it could do any damage.
"George, wait, how did you hear me screaming?" I asked him, but he was in no mood for questioning.
"A nice, forceful shag?" George continued to shout in Benjamin's face who was now trying to keep his temper. "Is that how you get your kicks?!"
"Someone used the Cruciatus Curse on her. Not. Me. Someone else who is no longer here," Benjamin explained as calmly as he could manage.
I could see George's expression softening then. "Who was it?"
"Antonin Dolohov," Benjamin was having a much easier time composing himself then. "He's a Death Eater."
"I know," was all George said for a moment, looking at me as though I'd just died and come back. "Why was he here?"
"George, how did you hear me scream?" I asked again.
"The coyote you saw was my Patronus; Dumbledore taught me how to conjure it and send messages with it. You must've said my name and sent me the reply back...I heard you screaming and begged Dumbledore to help me find you, and so I came in through your fireplace," was his quick reply. Literally, he rushed it all out in one breath. "Would've been here sooner if I didn't have to change into Muggle clothes... Now, why was a Death Eater here?"
Benjamin looked to me. Now was my chance. I could finally let the secret out and George would know why I couldn't be his friend. Hell, I'm sure he wouldn't even want to be my friend if he found out. But then I realized that I didn't have to do this to myself. George never had to know.
"I dunno, he just...showed up," I lied effortlessly.
"Why would he do that?" inquired George. "You can't be Muggle-born, you go to Durmstrang." It was true that our school did not admit Muggle-borns, I just wasn't aware that it was such common knowledge.
"I'm not, I'm pure-blood," I explained. "But that's exactly why he was here. Ever since the Dark Mark appeared at the World Cup, they've been trying to recruit new followers...and they tried to take my grandad."
George looked to me with sympathetic eyes. "I'm so sorry," he told me, before his eyes shifted to Benjamin, suspicion taking place in them. "Then who's he?"
"He is Benjamin Turner," he introduced himself. "Friend of the family."
"Just a friend?" George pressed.
"Yes," both Benjamin and I said in unison.
George continued to look at my rather disorderly attire. Even with my hand still holding the dress closed, I felt exposed.
"Well...I'll just be upstairs...changing," I announced, practically running up my stairs. I'd made it about half way before George's voice sounded again.
"Did you leave because of me?"
I took a moment to think up an excuse before I turned around to face him. "No," I told him. "I came home to be with my grandad. Things were getting to be a bit hectic, what with the tournament and...you getting angry with me over everything."
George hung his head. "Sorry about that... Cedric's been asking about you, by the way," he said grudgingly; my heart nearly skipped a beat at the very mention of his name. George picked his head back up and looked at me. "You're coming back, aren't you?"
I looked to Benjamin before I replied, his brown eyes spilling out warmth and his expression reading nothing but understanding. "Yes, I'm coming back," I said finally.
A genuine smile lit up George's face before Benjamin ushered him into the drawing room and I went up the stairs.
"Please excuse the unconscious bodies," I heard Benjamin say. "We weren't expecting company."
When I'd returned to my room, I finally freed myself from the dress. But it wasn't long after I'd done so, that an unwanted visitor had Apparated before where I stood in my...er, bra and knickers. I tried reaching behind me on my bed to cover myself with the dress, but to no avail. The moment I thought to reach for my wand, I realized it was still down in the drawing room, and the moment I opened my mouth to scream for help, my guest pressed his hand against my mouth.
"Bad timing, I reckon?" said Dolohov cynically.
I kept attempting to bite his hand, pushing forward so my teeth could reach his hand. And when I finally did and he jerked his hand away, I shouted.
"Ben —!" That was all I got out before he put his hand back.
"Should've known Turner'd stay behind," was all Dolohov said about that. "Now you'd better listen, Harris," he pushed his other hand against my throat, allowing no air into my collapsing lungs, as my back was forced on to the bed. "There's already been suspicion about your grandad's allegiance, just like there was about your father's. You would not want the same for yourself."
"Demetria?!" I could hear Benjamin call up.
"Something about that father of yours never sat right with me," continued Dolohov; I attempted to break free of his bonds at the very mention of my dad. "Ooh, a touchy subject, I see. Well I s'pose it makes sense — why ol' Carlisle'd keep it a secret. Wants you to sport the Dark Mark, after all, doesn't he? I know I do. But maybe not on your arm. He's right, you should keep it more hidden."
As though bringing up my father and the Death Eaters wasn't enough to infuriate me, Dolohov's hand moved from its place on my throat to my forearm. I could feel anger literally boiling inside of me, surging throughout my veins, reaching down into my fingertips.
"Perhaps you could get it somewhere else."
His hand began tracing my body, he moved all along until he reached my chest. And then two things happened at once. I'm not sure which came first, if one of them even did, but I know Benjamin and George bursted through my door and I performed wandless magic.
It was a ray of white light from my fingertips and it jetted out, knocking Dolohov back against the wall. Benjamin raced over to him, dragging him to his feet and out of my room, and George ran to me.
"You'll be one of us soon, Demetria!" Dolohov called out.
"Was that the Death Eater?" George asked me urgently; I nodded, hand caressing my throat. "What happened?"
I was having trouble speaking, so I took a moment and then explained as best I could manage. "He came in...couldn't scream...tried to...Dark Mark..."
Apparently that was a good enough explanation for him, his eyes growing wide as he understood. "And that beam of light, what was that?"
"Wandless magic." I shrugged.
"I've never seen it look like that," he said skeptically. "You can do wandless magic?"
I gave a small breath of laughter and a shrug of my shoulders.
"Demetria, does every dangerous situation require you to be half naked?" Benjamin asked in jest upon his re-entrance.
George looked, once again, as though he were just noticing me. I, myself, had forgotten for a moment that I lacked any clothing.
Where's Dolohov?" he shot up off the bed to ask.
"Disapparated," Benjamin replied indifferently.
"Dem, you've got to come back to Hogwarts with me tonight," said George decidedly.
"Are you mad?" I asked him, looking around for clothes. Most of them were still either at Hogwarts or Durmstrang. Anything I'd left at home was already dirty thanks to my overstayed welcome. "That's the first place he'll come looking for me!"
"It's also the safest," he reasoned.
"George is right," Benjamin agreed. "You've got to go now."
"But what about Grandad?" I asked him, digging through my hamper now.
"Oh, honestly," said George in a breath. He pulled his arms out of the blue button-down shirt he was wearing, revealing the plain white t-shirt he had underneath, and opened it for me to put my own arms through it.
"I'll be here when he wakes up and I'll tell him what happened," Benjamin assured. "He'd want you to be safe, he'd tell you to go."
"What about Jack?" I didn't make eye contact with anyone, just continued slowly buttoning. And once I'd finished that, I took my time unrolling the sleeves that had been pushed up to quarter length on George.
"I'll take care of it," Benjamin told me genuinely, meeting my eyes; I knew he would.
"Alright, let's go," I told George after a moment.
"You're not taking anything with you?" he inquired.
"Does it really look like I have anything to take with me?" I returned, gesturing around my room and then to my attire.
"Fair enough," he concluded, exiting the room.
I followed him, Benjamin behind me, as we made our way to the room with the fireplace. But first, I made a quick detour to the drawing room to retrieve my wand. And I took a moment to look at Jack, lying there lifelessly on the floor. His eyes were still opened wide, fear evident and pouring from them. There was even a single glistening river that had ran down his face and stained it. I kneeled down to wipe it away and then shut his eyes. His death was because of me. I might as well've been the one casting the curse on him. I killed him.
How do you come back from something like that intact and unfazed? Is it even possible? In my case, I've had to learn to make it possible. I've had to learn to restrain myself from reaching out and helping the people suffering. It didn't mean I was born without a heart, honestly, I was just…trained to function without one.
George was waiting for me in the fireplace when I entered the room. He held the Floo powder at the ready, but I took a moment before stepping in. I stood before Benjamin and wrapped my arms around him; he automatically followed suit.
"Thank you," I whispered.
"Of course," he replied.
I pulled away and stood beside George in the fireplace. One last look at Benjamin and then — "Hogwarts!" — we were swallowed up by the heatless, emerald green flames. When they subsided, I had expected to be in Dumbledore's office. But as it turned out, there was more than one fireplace in the castle connected to the Floo network, because George and I found ourselves to be in the kitchens.
"Well this is rather inconvenient," said George. "S'pose I should've said Gryffindor common room. Although it works out better for you, I can walk you to the shi —"
"I don't want to go back to the ship," I said shortly; he appeared confused. "Not tonight. I'm not ready to answer everyone's questions."
"All right, well you could...stay with me tonight," he modestly suggested, hand beginning to fidget with one ear; it must've been turning red again.
I simply nodded, following George out of the kitchens and then the basement altogether. When we emerged, the corridors were only vaguely lit with the occasional torch here and there. It reminded me of the first time the twins snuck me down into the kitchens. Which reminded me...
"Have you got the map?"
"I wish," said George, crestfallen. "Fred and I gave it back to Harry. I say he should at least lend us his Invisibility Cloak every now and again."
I remembered sharing that cloak with Harry as we watched the dragons in the Forbidden Forest. Speaking of Harry and the tournament...I'd completely forgotten to share with him and Cedric that I'd solved the egg's clue.
"Well with any luck, Filch'll stay in his office...unless Peeves feels like causing trouble tonight."
We walked slowly and silently down the corridor, keeping close to the sides and peeking around corners before we turned them. I, of course, followed behind George.
"Who's Peeves?" I asked.
"The most notorious and troublesome poltergeist in British history, and he haunts our castle," George said softly in reply. "He loves mischief and chaos...and, of course, getting on Filch's nerves."
"Well let's hope he doesn't tonight," I said.
After I finally convinced George to move a bit faster, we'd finally reached Gryffindor Tower on the seventh floor, approaching the portrait of the Fat Lady which I recalled from the last time I'd been there with Hermione before the Yule Ball.
"Fairy lights," said George rather faintly. The Fat Lady did not hear, for she remained asleep — snoring, I might add. "Fairy lights," George said it louder; Still no response. "Fairy lights, dammit!"
"Oh!" The Fat Lady awoke with a start, angered as she looked upon George and I. But she swung open her portrait, regardless. "No manners. Have you any idea of the time?!"
"Yeah yeah, cranky old bat," George said after the portrait shut behind us. I couldn't help but chuckle at that. "This way, love."
His hand searched for mine, but when he found it, he didn't weave his fingers in between mine, simply held it like a parent holds their child's. The flames of the fireplace were out as well as the torches, so the only source of light spilled in from the window — a faint moonlight. George led me to the spiral staircase I remembered climbing with Hermione, although I figured since there were two, one was for birds and the other for blokes. Another difference between this common room and the one back at Durmstrang — our dormitories weren't connected to the common room, though our school didn't divide into Houses. My room was separate from the other blokes' though, being the only girl, so I didn't have any roommates. It must've been nice...or annoying, I couldn't decide.
We arrived at what I could only assume was the sixth year boys' dormitory, George using his free hand to quietly open the door. He closed it behind me once we'd stepped in, and continued to guide me to his four-poster bed. Though it was dark, I could make out the beds, the layout exactly the same as Hermione's dormitory. I could hear, and sort of see, George pull away the curtains from his bed, and then usher me forward.
"Ladies first," I whispered.
"I'm trying," he said in jest, his hand now applying a bit of pressure to the small of my back.
"George Weasley, I'm wearing nothing but your shirt, I'm not crawling across your bed to give you a front row seat to my arse." I was only half-joking.
"I wasn't trying to —"
Someone in their own four-poster stirred. We froze until the noise had ceased, and even a few moments after.
"You can have my bed," he explained in a whisper so quiet it was barely audible.
"Where will you sleep?" I matched his voice level.
"There's a perfectly comfortable sofa downstairs," he reasoned.
"And what happens when your roommates try to wake you up and find me here instead?"
"Alright, you've got a point," he admitted. "But just get in, I promise I can't see a thing. I won't even look."
I admitted defeat as well, climbing into the bed all the way on the other side and tucking myself under the covers before George did the same. He shut the curtain, enclosing us in the bed, but we each kept to our own sides...at least at first.