A/N: 999 is the number in the UK that serves the same function that 911 does in America. As a heads up, things get very dark in this chapter. Warnings mentioned in earlier chapters still apply.
When Diana groggily woke up the following morning, the first thought in her mind was: What time is it? The sunlight was shining brightly through the curtains of the window, indicating a later start time than usual. For the first ten seconds, everything was blissful.
Then, reality came crashing down and the memories of the following day collided into her like a truck. Ughh.
How much longer did she have before the Ministry showed up? Sprout said they expected it to take about a week, but there was no guarantee, and the way these people came and went at their own convenience led Diana to fully expect them to barge in on the same day.
Diana felt completely hopeless. Marie supposedly had some kind of plan, but what could the Whites possibly do against an army of superpowered beings?
Her grumbling stomach snapped her out of her reverie. Due to the chaos of yesterday, she didn't eat anything for dinner besides a granola bar she found in her room. After getting dressed, she made her way to the door, put her hand on the doorknob, and turned.
It was locked.
Goddamnit, Mum.
Memories from years ago played through her mind, and Diana was unable to keep down a growing sense of panic. During some of the worst of her mother's breakdowns, Diana would sometimes find herself locked in a room or a closet, only to have Sarah release her hours (or sometimes the next day) later, crying and begging for forgiveness.
But that hasn't happened in years–not since the courts deemed Sarah suitable. Why was it happening now? Marie was living with them, so this shouldn't be happening, unless—
Diana swallowed. Does Grandma approve of this?
That was a possibility she couldn't handle. She learned long ago that Sarah couldn't be relied on and would easily flake, but the thought of losing her grandmother's support was devastating on a whole new level.
Diana pounded on the door. "Mum!" she hollered. She heard faint shuffling and movement on the other side, the sound getting louder and louder until it was right outside her room. "H-hi sweetie," her mother said with a trembling voice.
"Where's Grandma?" she demanded, heart beating rapidly.
"S-she's not here. She went to the police station, and then she said she was going to try to get tickets to fly us out of the country, if we have enough money." Snape's warning of the futility of doing that echoed in Diana's mind. "She's also going to borrow something from George Bennett too. I told her it was pointless, but she went anyway. She doesn't understand…"
George Bennett was a local hunter, and Diana suspected that the 'something' Marie was going to borrow was a shotgun. 'Shoot the wizards' was a plan that admittedly never crossed Diana's mind.
"Does Grandma know you're keeping me locked in here?"
Sarah hesitated before answering. "No," she admitted. Thank God. "Honey, this—this is just until she comes home. It's for everyone's protection. You might hurt someone without even meaning to."
Diana took a few deep breaths and tried very, very, very hard to make her tone seem even and calm, even though her insides were spiraling all over. "Mum, you're breaking down right now. I know a lot's happening and it's scary, but don't you remember what you said to me on the way back from camp?" Her voice started to grow wobbly against her will. "You promised things wouldn't be like how they were years ago."
Diana heard a strangled cry from the opposite side of the door. "I–I don't want it to be that way either! But you—I don't know, everything's fucked up now. I always thought you might have it but then I started thinking you might be more like me and I just…" Diana heard a sniffle. "Nothing's like the way it used to be."
"I'm still your daughter," Diana said, a hysterical edge creeping into her voice.
"I know you are," Sarah cried.
Hearing the muffled sobs from the other side caused Diana's fingers to clench into a fist, as anger began to overpower her nervousness. Why do I always need to act like the adult in the room?
"I'm hungry. I need food," she snapped.
There was a pause, then: "Let's just w-wait until Grandma comes back, okay?"
"That's going to take hours!" Diana shouted in frustration. By this point, resentment and anger had eclipsed her sense of fear. The events of the past few days, coupled with Sarah's behavior now, had brought her to a boiling point. "Mum, you're paranoid and delusional! I'm not dangerous, alright?"
Sarah said nothing. Without thinking, Diana took her palm and slammed it against the door."Open it!" She heard a gasp from the other side, and Diana did it again, guided by rage. A dark part of her—one that Diana didn't like to acknowledge—wanted Sarah to be afraid now as some kind of petty revenge.
She heard shuffling from the other side as Sarah retreated to go to wherever she was previously. Furious, Diana grabbed a pillow from her bed and screamed into it until she could feel her throat growing hoarse. She noticed a dampness on the pillow that she vaguely registered as tears.
She wiped her face with her sleeve and took some deep breaths. I'm going to get nowhere acting like this. I need to come up with a plan. Diana walked over the window and opened it; she was on the second floor, and it seemed like a fairly big drop. Could she try climbing out of it by using her blankets as some kind of makeshift rope, like the kid heroes of a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure Book? Does that even work in real life? She touched the windowsill and groaned as she felt lingering wetness from the earlier storms. No, she couldn't leave from the window, it would be too dangerous. She'd probably snap her neck if she tried.
Maybe that'd be a blessing, a dark inner voice whispered. She shook the thought away.
Diana peered outside. She didn't see anyone passing through the streets, but should she scream anyway? She hesitated. While she knew this was probably her best bet, it felt really embarrassing to do, especially since it was her own mother who locked her in here.
She sank down to the floor, mentally exhausted and numb. It was almost humorous in a way:
She would normally spend hours in her room willingly, but the knowledge that she wasn't able to leave created a sense of intense claustrophobia.
Her stomach growled again. She looked at the locked door and remembered Flitwick, who used a spell to burst into her house. Goosebumps started to creep over Diana's arms. If I'm a witch, then I should be able to use magic, right? She didn't want to do it, didn't want to even try it, but desperation overpowered her moral qualms.
What did he say again? "Alomondra," Diana whispered, looking at the door.
Nothing happened.
She sighed in frustration. Maybe I need a wand? No, according to Flitwick, she used magic on the cave without meaning to. So why didn't the spell work? I'm probably remembering it wrong.
"Alohora?" she guessed. Still nothing. Goddamnit.
She sank to the floor in dejection, but continued staring at the door for several minutes. Sadness, frustration, and restlessness welled up inside her as she kept staring at that stupid white door, staring and praying and wishing that would just open, damnit, ope–
There was a clicking sound. Diana's heart stopped as she tiptoed toward the door and turned the doorknob.
It was unlocked.
Holy shit.
Diana's heart started to beat faster. Did she really just use fucking magic? It was one thing to be told that she *could*, but it's another to actually do it. Even though she met four actual wizards in the course of the past few days that told her otherwise, part of Diana still didn't actually believe it was true, that she, of all people, had any kind of special ability. Being able to use it at will made it seem official somehow, the final nail in the coffin.
She swallowed and tried to push the thought away. Okay, the door was unlocked. What now? Should she sprint outside and go somewhere? Claire's house, maybe? But then she'd have to explain the whole story. Hmmm….
No, the best, and safest, course of action would be to sneak to the kitchen, grab something to eat, and then tiptoe back to her bedroom and wait until Marie comes back. Yeah, I can do this. No pressure.
Diana listened carefully for movement, but didn't hear anything. Quietly, she crept down the stairs (How pathetic is it that I even have to do this?) and slipped into the kitchen. She opened the fridge and was just about to grab a yogurt when she heard—
"W-what are you doing?"
In retrospect, Diana should have expected this. Was anything in her life ever simple?
She turned to Sarah, who had a startled expression on her face and was holding a glass of water in one hand and her pill bottle in the other.
"I said I was hungry," Diana muttered, grabbing the yogurt. "I'm here to get food, and I'll go back up when I'm done."
Sarah's eyes were wide and she remained rigid. "Hurry and get what you need to go back upstairs."
An impulse of childishness and bitterness overtook Diana and she intentionally started to move a bit slower as she walked over to the drawers to get a spoon. "Okay."
Sarah hastily put the pill in her mouth and used the water to wash it down, keeping her eyes on her daughter the whole time. "I know it's not your fault, but I can't have you down here right now. It's not—it's not good for me, and I don't want anything bad to happen."
'Not good for you'? Another wave of indignation hit Diana. In a display of uncharacteristic stubbornness, she sat down on one of the stools, peeled the top of the yogurt off, and started eating it slowly and defiantly while maintaining eye contact. "I'm your daughter! This is my house too. If you didn't want me then you never should have kept me."
Sarah eyed her warily and fumbled with the pill bottle as she popped another in her mouth. "I–I didn't know you'd be like this. If I knew that you were like him–if I remembered what really happened–then I–I'd—-"
"What?" Diana snapped as she forcibly shoved a spoonful of yogurt in her mouth. "You'd get rid of me? You wouldn't have me at all?"
Sarah's silence was enough of an answer. Diana knew what the answer would be before she even asked, but it still hurt.
But there was something else there inside Diana. Something beyond hurt, beyond despair, beyond wistfulness of the what-ifs. Something that was building up in the background for eleven years, something that Diana didn't want to acknowledge but couldn't suppress any longer. After eleven years, Diana White was finally at the breaking point.
"I hate you."
She didn't shout or scream it, but instead delivered it in a matter-of-fact tone, as if discussing the weather. Sarah looked as if she'd just been slapped. Instead of acting as a deterrent, Sarah's expression acted as kindling for the fire that was burning in the background of Diana's life for the past six years. The fire was now stoked to a degree that it never had been before, and all the emotions bottled up were finally uncorked. "You're a terrible mother and you always have been." Suddenly losing her appetite, she threw the yogurt in the garbage can and turned towards her mother, eyes flaring. "I barely had a childhood because of you! Everyone looks at me weirdly because of you! If it wasn't for Grandma, I'd probably be dead by now. Either you'd kill me—"
"What? No! No, I'd never—baby, please, you have to believe me—" Tears were falling from Sarah's eyes now, but Diana didn't care in the slightest.
"Oh, come on. Remember the time you 'forgot' I was in the car a few years ago, and I was practically baking in the heat? If you waited another twenty minutes, I would have been dead!"
"That was an accident! It w-wasn't my fault!" Sarah cried. "They messed up my mind."
"Or maybe I–I—maybe I'd just off myself!" Diana realized that tears were coming down her own face too now, but her fury didn't waver.
"Don't say that! Diana I—" Sarah started to make her way towards her daughter but stopped abruptly. She looked down at her feet and started to grow a bit pale. "H-honey, I think—-"
"I don't care what you think!" hiccuped Diana through her tears. "I don't care anymore. I'm done."
It was a curious thing to see; Sarah's body seemed to grow more rigid, but her face reflected a mixture of terror and anger. "You're using magic on me now. Stop it! This is why I knew it was better for you to stay upstairs. Y-you're like him. That was the first spell he used on m—"
"I'm not doing anything!" Diana moaned, grabbing and pulling the tips of her hair in frustration. "Jesus Christ, Mum!"
"Yes, you are! I can't move!" Sarah shrieked, eyes filled with panic. She was looking around frantically, but the lower part of her body was still.
God, she's losing it. "You know what?" she said spitefully. "Maybe I will be better off with him." The word 'him' hung heavy in the air; there was no question of whom it referred to. "At least he actually wants me."
It was a dark thought that bubbled to the surface yesterday night, but Diana dismissed it then. Even now, she wasn't sure if she believed it or not, but in that moment, the goal was to make Sarah hurt as much as Diana hurt for every day of every year since the day the Challenger exploded. A goal which proved to be effective.
Sarah's eyes locked on to Diana, reflecting a fearful, manic expression, like a mouse caught in a trap. She snapped, voice wavering, "Maybe you would. Maybe the two of you belong together and me and Mum will just—"
"Grandma isn't the one who treats me like rubbish—you do. I was afraid of you! Even this morning I was. You never had to know what it's like to grow up with a Mum like—a Mum like you. You had a regular mum and a regular dad who took you to the park and the beach and did normal things."
"It's not—"
"S-shut up! I don't want to talk to you ever again. Just leave me alone!"
Diana ran past her mother and sprinted down to the bathroom, grabbing a box of tissues as she sat on the cold tiled floor, sobbing for what seemed like a very long time.
She was afraid of leaving. A line was crossed today that had never been crossed before, and a relationship that had been building up for eleven years caved in like a house of cards.
'Relationship,' Diana scoffed inwardly as she continued to dab at her eyes, Yeah, right. What relationship? Everything I said was true!
…was it though?
Diana didn't know. It felt cathartic to release all those emotions with no filter, and she felt, in that moment, that she truly did hate her mother. But now that the inner fire had died down, she also couldn't deny that she also loved her as well, despite the mistreatment she endured for years. Was it even possible to both love and hate someone at the same time? Is that how Sarah felt about her?
Diana took a breath to try to steady herself as she looked in the mirror. Her hair was a mess and her face red and slightly puffy, but that could last for a while and she couldn't stay here forever. Guilt was beginning to gnaw at her and she knew she had to go back and talk to her mother eventually. What she would discuss, she had no idea. But now that she calmed down, she needed to say something.
Her hand went to the doorknob and hesitated for a moment, before turning it slowly. She made her way back, glancing at the hallway clock as she did. Even though it seemed like eternity, she wasn't in the washroom for that long: only fifteen minutes. She swallowed as she entered the kitchen.
Her mother was there, standing in the same spot, her back to Diana. "Mum," Diana said tentatively, meekness returning. "I–I wanted to talk, if that's okay."
Sarah didn't say anything, so Diana continued, "I know you're probably mad at me, and I'm mad at myself, but some of those things I've actually been thinking about for a while, so…" she trailed off.
Sarah remained silent. Diana's skin started to prickle. "...Mum?"
Still nothing. Diana felt her heart pounding as she quickly walked in front of her mother. When she looked at her face, she gasped.
The only sign of movement in Sarah White was her teary eyes, which were darting everywhere around the kitchen, completely frazzled and petrified. It was as if every other part of her body was turned to stone, completely immobile.
Did I do this? "Mum!" Diana cried out. Sarah's eyes looked at her and reflected that same fear (fear of me) they showed yesterday.
Sarah's concerns that Diana brushed off and attributed to paranoia came true. The tears that Diana thought were gone in her came pooling back into her eyes. "I–I didn't mean to do this, I'm sorry. I d-don't know w-what to do to fix it."
Should she try contacting Professor McGonagall? She had the address. How long would her mother stay like this? What would she tell her Grandma?
I did this. I really am evil.
Another wave of grief and frustration overpowered Diana as the tears trickled down. She buried her head in her hands; she didn't want this to happen. She never would have done something like this, especially if this was a spell that—
Her thoughts were interrupted by a gasping sound, and Diana's head jolted upright. She stared, eyes wide as Sarah stumbled, somehow regaining mobility and control of her body.
"Mum! Are you—"
Sarah held out her palm in a stopping motion. "Enough." Sarah exhaled sharply, placing a hand to her chest. She took in several deep breaths, eyes coming in and out of focus. Diana saw beads of sweat on her mum's forehead. Was she having a panic attack?
Against her better judgment, Diana said, "I'm sorry, I didn't think I could—"
"Of course you didn't think!" Sarah spun around to her daughter, uncharacteristic rage in her eyes. "You don't realize the amount of power you have. Is it so hard to believe that, after everything I told you, I know more about magic than you do?"
A spark of indignation that Diana thought was extinguished came back with a vengeance. "That still doesn't make it right to lock me up like I'm some kind of animal! I was angry because of what you did. If you didn't act that way, then I wouldn't have said and done those things."
Sarah rolled her eyes and crouched down to the floor, fumbling for her pill bottle that dropped during the commotion. "Now you really do sound like your father," she muttered. "Peas in a pod, the two of you."
Diana turned around and angrily stormed out of the kitchen, watching as her mother swallowed another pill as she left. For the next few hours, Diana laid down on her bed, mind replaying the events in her head ad nauseam. She felt a mixture of grief, regret, anger, fear, bitterness, and confusion as she thought of both the past and the future.
Eventually, Diana heard a feeble knocking on the door.
She didn't say anything. She already decided she would not say another word to her mother until her grandma came back.
"Sweetie, are you there?" Sarah's voice seemed sluggish and exhausted. "Please, I need to know if you're okay…"
Bullshit. "Go away," Diana answered, breaking her internal promise. "I'm not talking to you until Grandma gets back."
There was a pause, and then Diana heard a broken whisper: "I know I'm a bad mum. I know it's wrong of me to feel this way, but I can't help it. I'm so sorry, baby. What I said before—-you're different. You're not the same as him."
Diana remained silent. Sarah continued, voice tired and melancholy. "I know you didn't do it on purpose, and it wasn't your fault. It comes second nature, and that's normal for people like you, I think. It's only natural for the strong to use their power over the weak…that's what Lucius always said."
"He's full of shit, Mum," Diana mumbled, absentmindedly tracing her fingers over the frayed edges of one of the pillows.
"I don't know, maybe he's right. He's right about a lot of things. He's smarter than I am." There was a long pause on the other side of the door, then she continued, dull and lethargically, "You're going to live with him, you know. It's inevitable. No matter what Grandma says, it's happening."
"We can at least try something," Diana said stubbornly. She stood up from the bed and crept closer to the door. "We don't have to make it easy for them."
Sarah gave a humorless chuckle. "I either get obliviated or have you taken from me. I can't live with that. I'm sorry…I wish I was stronger like you, but I'm not. I can't have him getting involved in my life again, I just can't."
"So what are you going to do, then?" asked Diana, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. She was now standing right next to the door. "Give up?" She wasn't sure why the thought frustrated her so much, when it seemed like the only logical course of action.
"I feel so tired and dizzy right now…I think I just need to rest. But I want you to know that I love you, Diana. I love you so much—please don't forget that."
Diana's fingers wrapped around the doorknob, but hesitated. The events of earlier today–and her mother's overall erratic behavior—were fresh in her mind. "I love you too, Mum," she finally answered. "It's just…hard, sometimes."
"I know it is. It's hard for me sometimes, too," she said softly. "Goodbye, Diana."
After another short pause, Diana heard the footsteps that signaled that her mother was leaving and then lifted her fingers from the doorknob and retreated back to the bed. She had a lot of emotions to sort through, but the one that was the most powerful at the moment was exhaustion. And as she laid down in bed, her worries and thoughts drifted away as sleep took her.
She was roused awake by the sound of screaming. Diana jumped out of bed and raced down the hall towards Sarah's room, where she saw her grandmother rushing out, face streaked with tears. It was the first time ever seeing Marie cry, and that scared Diana more than anything else that day.
"Grandma, what's—"
"Don't come in!" Marie shouted frantically. Diana froze up. "Your mum, she's—Diana, you need to stay in your room now, alright? I need to call 999. It'll be okay, don't worry. Everything will be okay."
Diana nodded numbly, knowing that Marie was trying to comfort herself as much as her granddaughter. She returned to her room and sat on her bed, still and quiet, for the next several hours.
According to the paramedics, it was all because of the pills. Sarah took too many within a short period of time, the only question remaining was whether it was accidental or intentional. Marie was adamant it was accidental, a byproduct of her memory issues compounded with her stress, but Diana wasn't so sure.
Regardless, it didn't change the fact that her mother was now dead, and that Diana would never hear her voice or feel her touch again.
Diana didn't feel sad, or even angry. Sadness and anger would come in time, but in that moment, she just felt empty, and emptiness carved out by eleven years of what-ifs and what-could-have-beens.
