CHAPTER 28

Snape watches me closely. "Are you ready?"

"Not really, but do I have much of a choice right now?"

"You have a choice, but—"

"But not really because you need to see what happened?"

He smirks half-heartedly and raises his wand, giving me a chance to brace myself. "Legilimens."

I'm ten years old. It's raining, but I'm not under any kind of shelter. I'm on the street corner, just sitting there, my tears mixing with the rain on my face. A thin, holey blanket drapes my shoulders, but I'm still visibly shivering. A few people toss coins at my feet, coins which I greedily stuff into my pockets. But I didn't need money. I needed a home. And none of them seemed to realize that. Either that or they didn't care. Looking back, it seems so odd that no one was willing to help a child crying and freezing in the rain.

A man crouches down in front of me and removes his jacket to wrap around me. I can almost still feel how warm it was. I look up at him with wide, terrified, innocent eyes. He has a neatly trimmed graying blond beard and shaggy hair that covers his ears, his eyes brown and inviting. "What's a young girl such as yourself doing out in the cold?" he asks me kindly.

"I don't have anywhere else to go," I whimper.

He looks away before saying, "Are you hungry?"

I nod.

"Well, come on then." He pulls me to my feet and leads me to a little diner, his arm around my shoulders. "What's your name?" he asks.

"Ch-Charlotte Rodgers."

"Where are your parents?"

"I . . . I don't know . . . I don't . . . don't have any . . ."

He rubs my back encouragingly. "'S not so bad. One of my childhood friends was an orphan as well, and he went on to do great things." The man smiles at me. "You can too."

"Who are you?"

"They call me Avery," he says as we take our seats. A waitress walks over and hands us menus. "Order anything you'd like."

I don't want to recall all the subtle hints that could have saved Mrs. Stoico's life, so I push Snape farther through the memory.

"Mrs. Stoico's her name?" he asks.

"Yes, she's a mother to me," I answer proudly. Then I look away from him. "I miss her real bad."

"How long have you been gone?"

"Nearly a month," I say, my eyes growing misty.

"Why don't you go back to her?"

"I can't. I'd put her in danger."

"How can an innocent child put a woman in danger?"

"I'm a w—" I stop. "I'm not normal."

Avery leans across the table and lowers his voice. "Can I tell you a secret?" he asks me. I nod my head vigorously. "I'm not normal either." He winks at me. "You should go back to her. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to have you back, even if you aren't normal. Who's to say what's 'normal,' anyway?"

I propel Snape farther into the memory. He does not resist.

I'm standing in Mrs. Stoico's office at the orphanage. She's crouched in front of me with tears of joy in her eyes. "Where did you go?" she asks me. "I was so worried about you!" She brushes her hand through my hair. "Don't you ever scare me like that again!"

I nod. "I'm sorry," I whisper through tears of my own.

She wraps me into a fierce hug.

A gruff voice comes from the door, "Well, well."

Mrs. Stoico abruptly stands to her feet and pulls me behind her.

"We've been searching for you for nearly eleven years, did you know that?"

Something pulls me back to the present, and the first thing I register is a loud, painful scream. The next thing I register is that I am the only shrieking—I have fallen to my knees on the floor of Snape's office, my forehead almost touching the stone as I bend over my knees and hold my head in my arms. Though I manage to force myself to stop screaming, the pain in my head does not go away and makes impossible to open my eyes.

Snape is by my side in an instant, his hand on my back. "Charlotte, what's happened?"

I shake my head, my body trembling. His hand moves to my shoulder. "Charlotte, can you look at me?"

I shake my head again. "Everything hurts." My brain feels as if it is swelling in my skull, banging against the bone in an attempt to break free, burning like something has touched it with hot iron. Even Snape's gentle touch seems to magnify the pain, but I don't want him to get up and leave me here like this, alone and blinded by pain, so I do not tell him. "Help me," I breathe. "Help me." Suddenly, Snape is pulling me upright onto my knees—I rest back on my feet, still unable to open my eyes—but does not attempt to make me stand. Instead, we remain where we are on the floor. A vial touches my lips, and I make no arguments, choosing to trust him and drink whatever potion this is. While the pain slowly ebbs away, it is still a few silent minutes before I finally open my eyes and look at him. "What's happening?"

"Someone has done their best to keep that memory locked away," he says softly, his eyes bearing into my forehead as if doing so will allow him to see the memory. "Which means there is something there worth hiding."

"But . . . if you can't access it without—that pain—please don't try again, Professor. I don't want to go through that again."

Snape takes my upper arms in his hands and helps me to my feet. I grip his forearms to steady myself until he lowers me into the chair I had been using earlier. He draws up a chair for himself and sits down directly in front of me. "This won't hurt. Close your eyes."

I obey without question and feel the tip of his wand touch the center of my forehead. From that spot creeps a feeling like ice that oozes its way over my entire head.

"Dark Magic has been used to conceal your memories."

"Will you be able to—"

"Quiet." He puts two of his fingers under my chin and gently tilts my head up. An odd sensation—one that I don't really understand—grips my chest, tempting me to cry. "Whoever did this was skilled in Memory Charms, though not very well practiced."

"Will you—"

"Quiet." His wand slides along my temple, but I can't even hazard a guess at what he's doing.

"Is this—"

"Charlotte."

"Sor—"

"Charlotte."

Very slowly, the icy feeling covering my head crawls its way to my temple until it feels like Snape is holding a piece of ice to my skin. A few minutes later, he removes his wand, taking the ice with it.

"Open your eyes." I obey him and find that his face is just a hand's length away from mine. That heaviness in my chest grows stronger; tears prick my eyes. "They were good," he says softly, his black eyes humorless, "but I am better." Then he moves away from me, standing up and making the chair in front of me disappear, and as he makes his way back to his chair on the opposite side of his desk, that feeling in my chest dissipates. "Let's try this again." I nod. "Legilimens."

Mrs. Stoico pulls me into her arms. A gruff voice comes from the door, "Well, well."

Mrs. Stoico abruptly stands to her feet and pulls me behind her.

"We've been searching for you for nearly eleven years, did you know that?"

"'We'?" Mrs. Stoico repeats. "Meaning . . .?"

"Don't act so innocent," Avery says rudely. How had all of this been blocked from my memories? "You cannot just leave the service of the Dark Lord and expect to remain hidden from him forever."

"The Dark Lord has been defeated," Mrs. Stoico says, "and he has been for nearly nine years."

"And you think he will not return? I did not raise you to be a fool."

"You raised me to serve the Dark Lord, something I had no intention of doing! Now I suggest you leave."

Avery pulls out his wand. "Do you not know who that girl is?" He looks at me with loathing. "She's been chosen by the Dark Lord and as such—"

"You will not harm her! I've been protecting her for almost ten years, and you won't take her from me now!"

Avery waves his wand at the door. "I had truly hoped your mother had not corrupted you. I had hoped that you would come back and we could once again be a family. But it seems that you are too far gone."

Mrs. Stoico's grip on my shoulder tightens. "You'll have to kill me before you touch her."

He then directs his wand toward me, but he keeps his eyes on her. "Such a pity," he says, "how you were so susceptible to that bitch's influence while your brother escaped your fate and proudly claims his rank with the Dark Lord."

Mrs. Stoico shoves me toward the door. "Run, Charlotte!" Then she lunges behind her desk as her father tries to kill her. I obey, but the door won't open. Mrs. Stoico draws her wand, but the man expels it from her hand before she can do anything. Desperate, she throws a knife at him, but he easily blocks the blade from hitting him.

"Little girl," he says with his back to me, "you can save the woman who has taken you as her own. All you have to do is come with me."

"Charlotte, don't!"

"Crucio!" Avery shouts. Mrs. Stoico erupts in a shriek that still sends shivers down my spine.

My breathing becomes panicked. I can't watch this ending. Snape was right. Mrs. Stoico was not who I thought her to be. I do the only thing I can think to do. "Protego!"

I'm drawn into Snape's memories.

". . . thought we were supposed to be friends?" Snape says. "Best friends? He's in his teens, walking through Hogwarts beside a girl with the same red hair as the girl who is always in his Hogwarts memories, the one with the green eyes that seem so familiar.

"We are, Sev, but I don't like some of the people you're hanging around with! I'm sorry, but I detest Avery and Mulciber! Mulciber! What do you see in him, Sev, he's creepy! D'you know what he tried to do to Mary Macdonald the other day?"

Snape pushes me out of his thoughts. "Avery?" I ask quietly.

He slightly nods but doesn't speak, though his frustration with me for seeing his memories is written on his face. He sits back down and stares down at his desk for a few moments. "What happened to the man?" he finally says.

I clear my throat. "The knife . . . I—I killed him." I shift uneasily in my seat. "There's a relation there, isn't there? Between the Avery who killed Mrs. Stoico and the Avery you used to hang around with?"

He meets my eyes. "And there's a relation there with Mrs. Stoico."

I bury my face into my hands. I was hoping I had misunderstood the entire thing. "Can you explain it, Professor?" I whisper, though I know exactly what he is going to say.

When he begins speaking, I don't look up, "The Dark Lord was once known as Tom Riddle. He went to Hogwarts. He had a group of—not friends, exactly, more like followers. One of them was called Avery. When the Dark Lord first ascended to power, these followers became the first Death Eaters. Avery married a young woman—I can't remember her name. Together they had two children, one boy and one girl."

"Mrs. Stoico and the Avery from your school days?" My face is still in my hands.

"Yes," Snape confirms. "Both Mrs. Stoico and her mother went missing at the beginning of nineteen eighty-one. The mother was found and killed. Mrs. Stoico, on the other hand—"

"Was never found," I fill in.

"Until nineteen eighty-nine, when—for the sake of understanding, let's call them Avery Sr. and Avery Jr. for the time being. Mrs. Stoico hid from the Dark Lord until nineteen eighty-nine when Avery Sr. found the both of you," Snape continues, seemingly unfazed by my interruptions.

"She was a witch," I say quietly. "She wasn't a Squib."

"Yes, she was a witch," Snape confirms. "And a clever one, considering she evaded the Dark Lord's forces for so many years." He pauses. "Look at me, Charlotte." I obey. "I believe it was Mrs. Stoico who modified some of your memories from your time at the orphanage. I do not believe she wanted you to know about magic. If you were raised as a Muggle child, you would not be where you are right now. However, I'm unsure who tried to conceal your memories after the murder."

That makes me uncomfortable. Someone's been tampering with my memories. "Is that why Occlumency has been difficult when I'm asleep?"

"I believe it has been part of it."

I don't want to practice and find out now because I simply don't have the strength. "And Avery Jr.? He's a Death Eater?" Snape nods. "Does anyone know . . . about his father?"

"They know he is dead, that he was murdered, but to my knowledge, we do not know by whom."

"And how am I in danger? Why did you want me to show you this?"

He looks almost reluctant to speak, but he does so anyway. "Avery was asking questions about you. He doesn't know that you're here at Hogwarts, but he was trying to find the young girl who was chosen by the Dark Lord."

"He wants revenge?" Snape doesn't answer. "But how does he even know it was me?"

"I do not know."

Avery wants revenge because of what I did; that must be what this is about. He wants revenge because—because I killed his father after he killed Mrs. Stoico. No, not Mrs. Stoico. She was just the daughter of a Death Eater. I rest my face in my hands again. There really is no one in this world that I can trust. Not even Mrs. Stoico was truthful with me. Even she had secrets locked away. I stand and go for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"I . . ." I clear my throat. "I—um—I just . . . have to—I need to go." He doesn't try to stop me.

I don't even second guess myself as I make my way to McGonagall's office, regardless of the fact that I should not be wandering through Hogwarts right now. It takes her a few moments to open her office door, and when she sees me, her lips form a thin line though her brow furrows with what appears to be curiosity because I should not be out of my common room at this hour. "Are you all right, Rodgers?"

"That's up for debate at the moment, Professor."

Her eyes scan the corridor in both directions as if looking for someone or something, as if something might give her a clue about my reason for being here. "Come in." We both take our usual seats. "What's happened?"

"Well, since the beginning of the term, Snape and I have been working on my ability to use Occlumency while I am sleeping so Voldemort won't be able to read my thoughts while I'm at my weakest." She doesn't say anything about Snape being my Occlumency teacher, which leads me to believe that Dumbledore has already informed her of what is happening. "He . . . found some memories that had been hidden away with Dark Magic and managed to free them." I clear my throat to rid it of the painful lump. "Professor," I croak, "I don't know what to do anymore."

She leans forward in her seat. "What do you mean?"

"There's so much—there's so much weight on my shoulders right now. I mean, I have to—I have to master Occlumency because I desperately want to join the Order, but so much . . ." I close my eyes to rearrange my thoughts. McGonagall doesn't interrupt me, and though I will never be able to say it aloud, I deeply appreciate her patience. "How am I supposed to master Occlumency when so much of my life has been a lie?"

McGonagall's face is unreadable. "I've never studied Occlumency that intensely. I can't tell you."

I tap my hand on my leg. "I don't know what to do, Professor."

"What did Professor Snape see in your memories?"

"That people can't be trusted. That everyone I've ever trusted has messed my life up more than help it." She's obviously confused. Granted, I would be too if I was given unclear answers such as the ones I'm offering.

"What exactly did you see?"

"Well, as it turns out, Mrs. Stoico is—well, was—a witch."

"But you said she tried to defend herself with a knife."

"The knife was her second option after her father—yes, the man who killed her was her own father—expelled her wand from her. She threw the knife at him, but that obviously didn't work." I try to recall everything I saw. Already, the memory is retreating back to the recesses of my mind. "She and her mother were once servants of Voldemort, but they escaped him. Her mother had already been hunted down and killed. She had been protecting me."

"So how exactly did she 'mess up your life' if she was protecting you?"

"Because, she didn't trust me enough to tell me that she was a witch! Had I known, I wouldn't have left after learning about my own magical abilities! I would've stayed there and talked to her about it! But no, I left, and now she's dead! I've always blamed myself for her death!" My voice is rising, but I can't stop it. "SHE GOT CLOSE TO ME, WAS A MOTHER TO ME! I LET HER IN! AND WHAT DOES SHE DO? SHE KEEPS SECRETS THAT LED TO HER DEATH! SECRETS THAT LED TO MY EXILE FOR FIVE YEARS. I WAS TEN YEARS OLD, PROFESSOR! AND I WAS COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY ALONE BECAUSE THAT WOMAN DIDN'T TRUST ME!" I realize too late that I've been screaming, then take a breath to try to calm down. "I was alone, Professor. I had no one. I was almost killed. I was almost abducted." I swallow down the burn in my throat at all that I have endured since having to run from the orphanage after killing Avery. "She ruined my life."

"Rodgers," McGonagall says sternly. "Stop."

"It's true! She ruined it—"

"Rodgers."

"What?" I shout, immediately regretting it because I shouldn't have shouted at her, not when she's simply trying to help, but my anger is rising in a way I cannot stop. "I can say whatever I want to say! It's my life! She was a filthy Death Eater! She served Voldemort!"

"Rodgers!" McGonagall snaps. Her tone forces me to stop yelling. "You have to realize that she was trying to protect you. She did protect you. For nine years, she protected you. Don't say something you're going to regret."

I bite my tongue to stop myself from retorting rudely. She's right, of course. I do regret what I've said. Mrs. Stoico, despite having lied to me, died trying to protect me. Had it been any other professor (Snape) that revealed this to me, I would have continued to rant, but this is McGonagall.

We're silent for a few momets until I change the subject and say, "Professor, I . . . I'm really worried."

"Aren't we all?"

"It's just—when Bellatrix found me a few weeks ago, she said I wasn't safe here, at Hogwarts."

This brings a genuine concern to McGonagall's face. "Did she say why?"

"She gave me a lot of reasons, honestly, but there were a few reasons that really stuck out to me." I pause. "She said that if the professors found out who I am, they would try to kill me, especially you."

"Do you really believe I would do such a thing?"

"No, Professor, but she raised a good point. If you could get revenge for the Longbottoms, would you do it?" She doesn't answer. "Who's to say that I wouldn't be used as that revenge?"

"I would never seek revenge through you. You may be Bellatrix's daughter, but you are certainly not the same person. If I were to get revenge, it would be in a fight against Bellatrix herself. I would not use anyone as a pawn in a scheme to avenge the Longbottoms."

Though I wasn't really afraid of McGonagall ever harming me, it feels nice to have that faith reaffirmed. "There's something else," I say quietly. "She said . . . she said that someone was going to die this year. She didn't say who, only that it's the Dark Lord's orders for this person to die."

McGonagall doesn't seem fazed. "Professor Dumbledore has strengthened the defenses around the school. And when he isn't here, the Order is. There's always someone watching over the castle." Her words are comforting, but I still can't shake the feeling that Voldemort's plans will be fulfilled no matter what precautions Dumbledore has put into place. Bellatrix seemed sure that they would succeed. Then McGonagall adds quietly, "Did she say who would be the one to kill this person?"

"No, Professor. She wouldn't tell me. She said that she'd gone around Voldemort's knowledge to warn me but that she couldn't divulge his plans."

She just nods, so I assume she expected this answer.

Another few seconds pass between us in silence until she comments, "I spoke with Christopher Collins." I can only assume she's trying to change the subject for my benefit before she sends me back to the Slytherin Dungeon.

"Oh?" I can feel the heat coming to my face.

McGonagall smiles. "I wanted to thank you. Collins and his friends are beginning to better understand the principles of Transfiguration. Next on the syllabus is the Switching Spell, which I imagine will lead to some issues for them. They're quite proud that they can Transfigure a match into a needle. Should they come to you for help, I would like to ask—given you are able to handle the extra stress—that you not turn them away. They weren't coming to me, and they didn't ask questions in class. I thought they stood no chance in of passing. Then they showed up about a week ago doing better than most of the others." I don't know why this makes me feel so proud of myself, but it does. "Young Mr. Collins was more than happy to say that Charlotte Rodgers was helping them."

"They suckered me into it."

"Well, you're doing an excellent job," she says. A smile comes to my face.

I leave her office not long after that, thankful that she changed the subject, but don't go to the Slytherin Dungeon as I was told to do and instead go up to the Astronomy Tower. I wave my wand to turn one of the telescopes into a chair that I gladly claim.