Author's Note

New Chapter! So, in this one, some crazy stuff happens. But you'll see as you read!

As usual, I'd like to give a huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed! It is so nice and encouraging to hear feedback! Thank you so so so much!

Also, I'm going to try my hardest to update in the next few days, unfortunately though, I'm going to be at school from 6:30 in the morning until 10 at night every day this week until the weekend, as we have a few really big performances coming up. That, my friends, is the life of a musician! Craziness! I'll do my best though! Just please, please, please don't think I've forgotten about you guys! Updates will most definitely come!

Alrighty, then, please read, enjoy, and review! :)

Disclaimer: I don't own HP!

5. Shock

The next week passed in a blur of endless essays, lonely afternoons in the library, and me mulling over my argument with Sirius over and over in my head, analyzing it one hundred different ways.

That conversation—and really that entire day's events—seemed to have planted a seed in my brain. I had been taught to believe that the life of a mud-blood, and especially a muggle-born, meant next to nothing. Spilled blood was only significant if it was pure.

But now I wasn't so sure. Sirius's argument was a thorn in my side. Sooner or later I was going to have to decide what I thought. Because I was starting to realize that maybe beliefs were not hereditary.

But things were not just black and white, at least not for me, and at least not yet. I still yearned for my father's approval, to see that proud look on his face when I showed my worth once more.

But when I glanced over during class or at supper and happened to catch Lily's eye, and she would wave like we were old friends…

If there was one thing I knew sure, it was that Lily Evans, and other people like her, should not die. Nice, intelligent people like Lily deserved a spot in the wizarding world.

So what do I do now? I thought as I got dressed before going down to breakfast the following Monday. I found myself agreeing with most of what Sirius had said to me a week ago, yet I was still attached to my family. I wanted the Villori name, but not the blood-supremacist attitude that went with it.

Everything was just too damn complicated these days.

I made my way down Gryffindor Tower, entering the Great Hall and took my usual spot, alone, near the end of the long Gryffindor table. Lily, Remus, James, Sirius, and Peter sat a few meters away.

I was beginning to find that watching their little group was incredibly interesting.

Lily seemed to have a friend in Remus, who I had noticed myself was a very nice, down-to-earth person, much like Lily herself. However, Remus seemed to be good friends with James and Sirius. And even I had noticed—despite having not talked to a soul practically the entire week I had been here—that James Potter was absolutely smitten with Lily Evans.

The way he looked at her was like a man seeing the sun for the first time. It was sweet. Or would be sweet, if he wasn't constantly trying to get her attention with lame pick-up lines and over-dramatic declarations of love.

The poor guy was shot down on a daily basis.

Lily was nothing more than cordial to Sirius, which I suspected was not necessarily because she disliked him, but more because he tried to play the part of James's wing-man, which never went well.

Peter just kind of sat there, and laughed at their jokes.

And although I was not friends, so to speak, with any of them, I think we had a mutual understanding.

Lily, despite my initial misgivings, was sweet and an excellent roommate. She was neat, quiet, and left me in peace. We hadn't spoken since the day we met, besides the occasional polite "good morning" and "hello" when we found ourselves in the other's company in the dorm room, but I was relatively sure that maybe one day far in the future, Lily and I could be friends.

Sirius Black was another, albeit rather similar, story. We weren't friends, yet I believe we had a mutual respect for the other. He stuck to his beliefs and didn't let his parents dictate his life, while I was just trying to figure out exactly what my beliefs were. I think he understood, more than anyone, what I was going through. Perhaps one day I would call him a friend as well.

One day, I thought, as I added some blueberries to my oatmeal and checked over my potions essay one last time, determined to catch even the slightest flaw. But not today.

At that very moment the owls arrived. It was really quite a sight, to see all those owls come swooping into the great hall, and to watch all the newspapers and boxes and letters they brought with them submit to gravity and cascade down onto your breakfast.

Daily Prophets were falling everywhere as I patiently waited for my own copy. It wasn't exactly light reading, but the Prophet was usually my main source of information when it came to the war, which seemed to only grow larger by the day.

But, I felt a strange prickling feeling on the back of my neck as the owls swooped overhead and I sat quietly, awaiting my newspaper. My fellow students began muttering and whispering to each other, and with a sinking heart I began to realize that they all seemed to be sending surreptitious glances my way.

Panic began to rise in my chest. I glanced to my right and watched as a Prophet fell into Lily's lap and she looked at it curiously, Sirius, who was sitting beside her, peering over her shoulder at it. I watched, horror-struck, as the color-drained from their faces and they both turned to look at me, wide-eyed.

Finally, as my heart beat like a drum and I could feel my hands begin to shake, the Prophet landed with a thud on the table right in front of me. I could feel the eyes of every single person in the room on me as I lifted the prophet and felt my blood run cold as I stared at the front page, and the bold-print that screamed the headline:

VILLORI HEIR MURDERS SIX MUGGLE-BORNS

Roy Villori, the eldest son of Samson Villori, the richest wizard in Britain and suspected Dark Lord-supporter, was captured by ministry aurors during a struggle outside a home in Rochester, where inside the remains of six muggle-born witches and wizards, ranging from ages 18 to 54, were found. Names are not being released at this time.

Villori, who was confirmed to have a dark mark tattooed on his forearm, admitted to these murders during questioning, but then managed to escape after a breach of security. His current whereabouts are unknown.

I stood, shaking hard. I couldn't think. I could hardly breathe. How could this happen?

I felt everyone's eyes on me as I started walking towards the exit to the Great Hall, trying my best not to break down then and there.

But I could feel the sobs coming, preparing to tear through my body and my soul. My walk became a jog, faster and faster, until I was sprinting, desperate to get out.

I flew through the huge doorway just as I broke down, the tears coming hard as I struggled to breathe or even stay standing in the middle of the corridor. Too much, too much, too much… were the only thoughts I could string together.

So I simply stood just outside of the Great Hall, unable to move or think or say anything, feeling myself being torn apart by the very thought of… of…

I felt a strong hand on my shoulder and looked up and into a set of deep blue-gray eyes, staring at me with something near pity.

"Sirius," I choked out, just as another huge sob cut through me. I leaned into him heavily, not caring why he was there or what he thought of me. I just needed something to hang on to.

He put a steadying arm around my shoulders and led me into an unused classroom across the corridor, closing the door behind him and slowly easing us onto one of the benches that lined the room. He kept his arm around me and I buried my head in his chest, letting the sobs rake through my body, gasping for air, knowing nothing but sadness and guilt and pain.

I tried to come to terms with the words—those horrible, horrible words—that had been printed on the paper.

Six muggle-borns. Murder. Villori.

I'm not sure how long I sat there, holding onto Sirius Black, letting him rock me back and forth and whisper comforting things in my ear, telling me everything would be okay.

But how could it? My brother, a man I had looked up to since I was old enough to walk, had killed six people in cold blood. They were gone, because of him, and for no good reason. He had probably killed more than that. How had I been so blind? How had I not known that my own brother was a death eater?

Now it made sense, as my sobbing started to subside and I took long, deep breaths, trying to clear my head. My family supported Voldemort, they agreed with his cause, they practically funded the entire operation. It was only logical that my brothers would be death eaters, and my father was probably a member of their ranks as well.

I felt sick just thinking about it. How many innocent people had died because of my family? How many were going to, before this war was all over?

I started crying again.

It must have been an hour that I had been in this position, clinging to Sirius, probably ruining his robes, and trying to make sense of this latest catastrophe.

Finally I plucked up the courage to glance up at Sirius. He looked down at me, his eyes sad. "I'm sorry," I sniffled, wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my robes and glancing at his tear-stained shirt and tie. I moved over on the bench, putting a bit of space between us.

"Don't be," he said, a little grimly, standing and offering me a hand. I took it, and he lifted me up, putting his arm around my shoulders again in a brotherly offering of support. I leaned into him gratefully, blinking back tears. I didn't understand why he was comforting me, or really why he had followed me out of the Great Hall in the first place, but I was grateful. I didn't know if I would have been able to deal with any of this on my own.

We walked back into the corridor, which was now empty, seeing as everyone else was in their classes. "You've missed your class," I said softly, as we made our way up towards Gryffindor tower.

"It doesn't matter." He told me, his grip tightening almost imperceptibly on my shoulders. I didn't know where this newfound protectiveness was coming from. Both times Sirius and I had ever spoken, we had been practically at each other's throats. Now, he was the only source of comfort I had. It didn't make sense, but I wasn't going to question it.

I closed my eyes for a second as we stopped and waited for a staircase to change. But, the millisecond I did, an image popped into my head, one I never wanted to even think about.

Roy, laughing hysterically, as he had his wand pointed at an 18 year old girl cowering in the corner, a look of sheer terror in her eyes as she watched him say the spell that would surely end her.

I sucked in a quick breath and my eyes shot open, but the image lingered, even as I tried desperately to block it from my mind. That look in her eyes… the sickening grin on my brother's face…

Too much, too much, too much… I thought again, as the sobs began to attack my body once more. Sirius was practically keeping me standing now with his strong arms as we made it down the last hallway and into the Gryffindor common room, whispering encouragingly as we went.

I couldn't hold back the tears for the second time that day, and at first I was crying too hard to even notice Lily approaching us, a devastatingly concerned look on her face as she came and wrapped her arm around my shoulders as well.

"I've got her," she said quietly to Sirius, starting to lead me towards the girls' dormitory.

"Are you sure?" he answered, a matching expression on his own face. "I can stay. I want to make sure—"

"We're good, Sirius." said Lily, calmly, as we started climbing the old wooden stairs. "She needs to be in her own bed, somewhere familiar. And I'm sorry, but I don't know the spell to de-jinx the stairwell anyway."

He seemed oddly put-out, but agreed. "Alright," he said, and as I shot a glance back at him, a little upset myself that we had to part, I could see through my tears that he was standing in the common room, looking dejected with his head bent and his hands in his pocket.

"You can see her later, I promise." called Lily as we made it to the landing and went into our dorm.

She helped me lay down in my bed, her expression somber and kind, as I curled up there, still crying and exhausted. "Can you sleep?" she asked softly, as she pulled up the blankets on my bed and tucked them around me.

I tried to close my eyes, only to be met with another onslaught of images, envisioning the murders my brother had committed once again.

I let out a muffled cry, followed by a fresh wave of sobs, as I again imagined the terror in that girl's gaze, and the maniacal sparkle of glee in my brother's.

Lily sighed, sitting down next to me on the bed and softly brushing the hair back from my face. It was such a motherly thing to do, and I felt myself relaxing instantly. "It's alright, Adeline." she said softly, giving me a small, sad smile as I blinked up at her with tear-filled eyes. "It's not your fault. We'll take care of you now. You aren't one of them."

I felt my eyes closing as she said these things. They were exactly what I needed to hear. Exactly what would put my mind to rest.

I slipped into a deep sleep, my thoughts finally free of visions of murder and hate, telling myself again and again "I am not one of them".