Pt 3

Esme had never particularly liked the Weasleys as a whole. She had often found them stifling and more often than not, she had seen the underhand favouritism and manipulation that was at play. She understood perfectly as to why the twins upped and left, whilst the two eldest, Charlie and Bill, had found jobs as far away as possible; one in Romania and the other in Egypt. Really, those four were the only ones she liked or rather, didn't mind their company at times; the twins had never cared that she was a Slytherin in her days at Hogwarts, even daring to call her a Slytherpuff on the odd occasion, and Charlie and Bill had no qualms revealing to her their distaste of how their family was run.

It didn't mean she thought they were all horrible people. No, despite all their prejudiced and lack of acknowledgement that the Dark Lord did have a fair few good points, not to mention their erratic and often rude behaviour, they were good at heart and showed this to everyone they deemed 'Light'; specifically Gryffindors. She had often suspected that they only accepted her due to her being Remus's half-sister and the fact that she was a Healer.

It didn't matter; all of this; however, as she never willingly went to their home; not without very good reason. But she needed to see her werewolf brother; she needed some reassurance that he at least was still alive…still real…

The seventeen year old walked up to the front door of The Burrow and gave a short, soft, rap. She waited a fair few moments before a very disgruntled, red-faced, Mrs Weasley appeared at the door. Upon seeing the girl, the woman beamed and ushered her in.

"I suspect you're here to see Remus I suppose?" the Weasley matriarch rambled, leading the way. "You're welcome to stay for lunch, if you want. I'm afraid there's a lot of us at the moment, what with Bill's fiancée here as well as Ron's friends. I suppose it is made easier that Charlie, Fred and George have moved out…" The woman trailed off and opened the door into the sitting room, and gestured for her to go in. "In you go dear, I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

"Thank you Mrs Weasley," Esme said politely, before making her escape into the sitting room.

This room of the house was often in just as much disarray as the rest of it, and it was only made worse by the teenagers and three adults sprawled across it. They all turned to see who had entered and most of them gave her friendly smiles before turning back to their conversations although Remus saw right through her and immediately knew she was upset. He instantly held out his arms and she ran into them, unable to stop the already falling tears.

Remus held her in his arms, shushing gently at the silently crying girl who was curled up on his lap. "What's wrong cub? What happened?" he asked.

"One of my charges was murdered," Esme said, her voice broken in so many places it pained the only family she had.

Her voice had been quiet but it had cut through the air, silencing everyone. The teenagers all turned ever so slightly grim, and stared at their fellow teen in shock. Bill looked at her with sympathy, and Fleur with an unmasked sorrow. Already, the war was stealing innocent lives.

"What?" Remus said, the horror evident in his gentle voice.

"He was brought in by his sister," Esme said shakily. "He refused to take the Dark Mark so his father left him in the dungeons to change his mind." Esme saw nothing of the room she was in; only the fear she had felt when the boy had entered her care. "He was going to make a full recovery…by morning he'd been murdered."

"Who was he?" Bill asked quietly.

"Theodore Nott," she answered, turning her head into her brother's chest. "His name was Theodore Nott."

Hermione let out a small gasp, "He was in our year! A Slytherin."

"Well, let this be a lesson," Esme said bitterly, at the mention of her old house. "Not all Slytherins are evil. And not all of them lead the pampered lives you mistake them to have."

Esme knew, that even if Theodore had been a murderer she would've been just as frightened when his unconscious form was rushed into the wing. Because, when she looked at him, all she could see was the dying form of her friend; all she could see was Lenny and everything his death had burned into her. No matter what Theodore had done, she would've tried her best to save him. And she had failed.

She. Had. Failed.

Esme suddenly felt restricted and leapt out of her brother's grasp. She had come here with the intention of seeking refuge, and now all she wanted to be was alone. She shook her head and muttered, "I have to go."

Before anyone had chance to do or say anything, the girl had Apparated out, with no destination in mind. It would be fate that decided where she would end up, or if she would end up anywhere at all.

Fate must've been decidedly cruel to her that day, as she landed before the remnant of a memory; Riddle Manor.

*FLASHBACK*

She hid behind the taller boy's shoulder, uncertain if she wanted to see this or indeed, for them to see her. The three muggles before them were confused and indignant as to why two teenagers had turned up in outdated fashion and were holding sticks in their hands; one of which was aimed at them. She knew she was being silly, but she felt skittish at the mere idea of being near muggles, especially with what had happened the last time she had been close to one. She flinched at the memory of the flames licking her body with their fiery tongues; her inexperience had cost her, her life that day.

"Do you know who I am?" Tom asked, his voice cool and dangerous; so very perfectly sophisticated and refined. "Do you not recognise me?"

"No!" Tom Sr growled. "I suggest you leave at once; you have no business being here."

"On the contrary," Tom drawled. "I have every business being here; I wish I could say it was good to see you, Father." He practically spat the title, as though its mere presence on his lips was offending his very being.

"F…Father?" Tom Sr stuttered, looking confused for a moment. Then recognition crossed his face, along with a great deal of anger. "You're the spawn of that bitch!" he shouted. "The one who tricked me into marrying her."

"Indeed," Tom said, drawing out his words as though he was taking pleasure in this moment. "The very same bitch you left to die on the streets, along with her unborn son…" He smirked maliciously. "My mother did indeed die, but not before dropping me off at an orphanage. And do you know what I learned?"

Tom Sr shook his head, fear finally beginning to sink in. You could not stay in Tom's presence when the teenage boy was like this and not be fearful for your life.

"That muggles are the very reason there is such a high Mudblood mortality rate," Tom answered. "And that their influence that passes through such Mudbloods, are destroying the wizarding world from the inside out. No longer can those faithful to Lady Magic, practise the very traditions they have every right to; no longer is it considered common to have a male bearer; no longer are the very foundations of Lady Magic herself, recognised."

"I don't see what this has to do with us," the elderly grandfather said shakily.

"Nothing," Tom said truthfully. "You have done very little to contribute to this factor. But you have royally pissed me off. And for that, you will die."

*END OF FLASHBACK*

Esme stared unblinkingly at the manor house before her; lost in her past until the familiar presence set her world alight.

"Hello again little one."