Whisky Lullabies by Janet Devlin
Scars they heal in time
The raw wounds on my mind
They aren't so easily fixed
You can't mend what isn't broken
Kind words are rarely spoken
In time I will learn this
September 1st, 1973
Boarding the Hogwarts Express, Ivy kept her head down and steered herself away from the magical commotion she normally enjoyed. Making her way down the corridor, she carefully sidestepped riotous kids in search of an empty compartment. Finding one at the very end of the train as it began to leave the station, she shut herself in, relishing the sound of near silence.
Everything had been loud lately, louder than it used to be. Her surroundings, her mind. Especially her mind.
Sitting with her knees curled to her chest, she leaned her head on the window, not especially bothered by the way the train occasionally bounced, thwacking her head against the glass. Still holding tight to the bit of parchment in her hand, she stared at the list of every alternative she'd thought of to murder.
The first item read: Simply do not commit murder.
The second was: Assimilate Hazel into a Muggle school.
At the very bottom of the list, she'd written: If you absolutely cannot stand to have a Squib for a daughter, Obliviate her and give her to a loving family.
When the door to her compartment slid open, she hurriedly stuffed the list into her pocket. Looking out the window with unfocused eyes, her skin crawled at the idea of talking.
"Hey," Regulus sat next to her.
"You alright?" Theya took the opposite seat. "Do I need to commit an atrocity against someone?"
"Hazel's dead," Ivy said bluntly, hoping to get it out of the way. "That illness she had."
As they fell silent, she did her best not to think about what they would say if they knew Hazel was a Squib. Already having lost her sister, she couldn't bear the idea of losing them too, so she shut the notion down entirely.
"No wonder you stopped writing us," Theya said quietly.
"There was nothing you could've done," Regulus fidgeted with his fingers, sounding like he didn't know what else to say.
"There were about two-hundred and forty-one things I could've done."
But what she felt wasn't self-loathing.
It was seething, calamitous hatred for her parents and the Lestranges. There wasn't a fraction of gentleness or understanding in it. It wrenched and coiled around her grief, pleading for the cruellest possible revenge. And she would have it. She didn't know how or when or a single other thing, but she knew that she would have it.
She would take it. Without mercy.
Feeling Regulus grab hold of her hand, she turned to look at him.
His brown eyes were soft and she wondered if he could see what was in her silver hues.
Theya slapped her hands on her knees, then got up and forcibly wedged herself between the window and Ivy, firmly taking her other hand.
Pinned securely between the two, she inhaled the scent of pine trees on Regulus and Theya's mango shampoo.
"I'm alone now," she muttered. "I'm alone in that… bloody Estate."
The statement was true in more ways than one.
Theya gave her hand a squeeze.
"I know how you feel," Regulus said quietly. "Not about your sister, obviously, but about being alone. Things at Grimmauld Place…"
Leaning her head on his shoulder, she could've sworn she heard him sniff her hair. It made her smile a little and she tilted her head to make sure neither of them noticed.
"Sorry," Regulus sighed. "Didn't mean to make it about me."
She let out a humourless laugh. "I'd rather not think about it, so by all means."
"Are you sure?" Theya chimed in.
"Very."
"Alright," He said reluctantly. "I just don't understand why Sirius has to provoke our parents. Sometimes I think he wants them to hate him. Putting permanent sticking charms on his Gryffindor banners and Muggle photographs… If he just kept his head down, they wouldn't put so much pressure on me."
Although some part of her thought Sirius's rebellious behaviour was admirable, she could only imagine what would happen to her if she tried to imitate him. No, she preferred to be inconspicuous like Regulus. They both knew the trouble wasn't worth it.
Especially considering where merely existing had gotten Hazel.
Ivy sucked in a pained breath and lifted her head to let it loll back against the seat.
"The only time I can relax is when I'm with you two," Regulus murmured.
"Well," Theya said thoughtfully. "Maybe I can convince Mum and Dad to let you two stay at mine for Winter Holidays. I could use the company."
"I'd give anything to be an only child," Regulus muttered.
Theya reached around Ivy to punch him hard on the shoulder and it took her a moment to realise why: She was now an only child.
There was no one left to protect. She had still been planning to speak with the Professors about her bruises and Hazel being a Squib, but now she began to wonder what that would truly look like. What could the Hogwarts staff really do? Maybe they would arrange for her to be taken away from her parents, but then what? She'd be destitute, exiled from pureblood society, and shunned by her friends. Not to mention, her parents may decide to rid themselves of their problem child.
They'd already done it once.
Ivy began to cry like she never had before.
Ivy woke to someone prodding her. Blinking hazily, she remembered that she'd fallen asleep on the train directly after changing into her robes. Slowly regaining her bearings, she noticed that her head was in someone's lap and that someone was playing with her hair.
Looking up, her eyes met Regulus's and he gave her an embarrassed smile, immediately stopping. She didn't want him to, but a glance around the cabin told her that her feet had landed in Theya's lap, and that she was the one who had roused her from sleep now that they had arrived.
Yawning, Ivy sat up and pulled the black ribbons from her white hair, as her bun was lopsided from napping. Redoing the style, she began to gather her things in silence. Leaving the compartment in favour of the corridor, she prodded her red-rimmed, puffy eyes with a finger as they exited the train.
Meandering over to the carriages under the setting sun, her eyes went wide when she saw them.
"Theya," Ivy stared at the skeletal, winged horses pulling the chariots. "What are those?"
"What do you mean?" She looked around.
"The… horse… things," she said unintelligibly.
"Horse things," Theya echoed.
"Yeah," Ivy glanced self-consciously at a stray Ravenclaw who was lingering a little ways away. "The things pulling the carriages."
"Iv, how much sleep have you been getting?"
"Plenty," she lied. "You're really telling me you don't see them?"
"No, I really don't."
"They're right there!"
She eyed her. "Say, I need to stop by the Hospital Wing when we get to the castle. Come with me?"
Ivy gave her a look.
"Whatever," Theya threw her hands up in exasperation. "Can we go? I don't want to miss the Feast."
"You go ahead."
"Fine. But if you don't find someone else who can see the horse things by the end of the Feast, I'm taking you to the Hospital Wing."
"That seems drastic."
"You're the one talking nonsense."
Ivy watched as Theya flounced away to meet Regulus who was waiting several metres away. Turning back to the fleshless horses, she observed them at a wary distance.
"Great way to start the year, don't you think?"
Jumping, she turned to find Emmeline Vance, a third year Ravenclaw. She had wild dark hair and shrewd green eyes that made her instantly envious.
"What do you mean?" Ivy asked.
"Having Thestrals pull the carriages."
She raised a brow.
"I overheard you and your friend talking about the, ah, horse things. Not many people can Thestrals and I know how confused I was at first."
"Oh," Ivy blinked. "Um, why can't everyone see them?"
"That's the tough bit," Vance winced. "Only those who've seen death can see them. I dunno what Dumbledore was thinking bringing them here. If you ask me, it's kind of like rubbing salt into the wound."
"Rubbing salt into the wound?"
"Muggle expression. Means making something unnecessarily worse."
Her lip curled at the mention of Muggles, though curiosity quickly rose in the stead of distaste. She added Muggles to her mental list of things to question. Recently having come to terms with how disgusting her parents were, she was beginning to ponder what else they were wrong about – what else she was wrong about.
"Ah," Ivy finally said. "How did… I mean, if you don't mind my asking, what…?"
"It was a car crash."
"Did you know the passengers?"
"Nah. Would've been a lot worse if I had. What about you?"
"My sister died a few weeks ago."
"How?"
"Illness."
"I see."
"Yeah."
Vance smiled softly. "What was she like?"
"Well… She was a terrible gift giver," she choked on a breath that could've been a laugh or a sob. "She never knew what to get me, so she just kept buying me lavender perfume. I didn't have the heart to tell her I hated the smell. But now that she's gone, I can't think of wearing anything else."
She wore both the perfume and the black ribbons daily. It was out of comfort as much as it was out of spite. Whether or not her parents had noticed was difficult to discern.
"Well, I'm sorry for your loss," Vance sounded genuine. "I think I'd better get up to the castle, but if you need someone to talk to, come find me." She turned to leave but stopped. "Oh, and Ivy?"
"Yes?"
"I hope the pain eases soon."
As the Ravenclaw walked off, Ivy stayed where she was, unsure what to make of those words. It had been such a gentle, loving statement that she could hardly believe a stranger had said it to her. It made her want to curl up into a ball and weep until there was nothing left, as she was certain the pain would never ease.
Taking a breath, she looked around for her mates. Locking eyes with Regulus, who had Sirius at his side, he waved her over.
Meeting them at the last remaining carriage, Regulus got in first, giving Ivy a hand up. When Sirius followed, she could've sworn she saw him tucking his wand into his robes, but the movement was so short and fast that she wasn't sure of herself.
As the carriage began to move, she made a point not to look at the elder Black sibling.
"So," Sirius looked smug. "I heard you had a really bad summer, Selwyn."
Choosing not to dignify his cruel observation with an answer, she turned her face away and swallowed, choking back tears.
"You're really going to make fun of her dead sister?" Regulus snapped, slipping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. "You're sick!"
"Oh," the self-satisfied look dropped dead off of his face. "I- I didn't mean- bugger. I just heard that Bellatrix and Rodolphus came over so-"
"Stop talking, Sirius," Regulus scowled.
"But-"
"Just shut up!" He growled. "You've done enough!"
The rest of the carriage ride was silent except for the crunch of wheels on gravel and the sound of the wind rustling the leaves. Once the hurricane of hurt passed, Ivy took to staring Sirius down. Partly to make him feel bad, but mostly because he kept glancing at her feet.
When the carriage stopped in front of the castle, she made a move to get out and tripped off, landing face-first in the dirt. Her knees and elbows didn't sting half as bad as her humiliation.
"You alright?" Regulus made a move to hop down but he, too, landed in the dirt.
Ivy stood, trying to look unaffected. When she made a move to help Regulus to his feet, she tripped again, this time landing in the gravel, which tore through her stockings.
Realising that Sirius had put a Tripping Jinx on them, she rose and turned to yell at him. But even that movement ended with her in the dust. Repeatedly, she got back up and tried to take a step, hoping each time that the spell had worn off. This was to no avail, and eventually, she just stayed on the ground.
"Why are you such a prick?" Regulus asked Sirius from his own place in the dirt.
McGonagall appeared in between the open castle doors, looking for stragglers.
A second away from bursting into a fit of furious, frustrated tears, Ivy held them in as best she could, since she was already bleeding from the palms and knees and refused to humiliate herself further by sobbing on the ground like a five-year-old having a temper tantrum.
"I was hoping it would wear off by the end of the ride!" Sirius said guiltily.
"Her sister just-"
"I didn't know, Reg! You think I'd do that if I knew?"
"That's exactly what I think - and you know what else? I think you're an-"
"What is going on here?" Professor McGonagall stomped over.
"Sirius put Tripping Jinxes on us!" Regulus told her.
She looked at Sirius severely over her spectacles. "Ms. Selwyn is bleeding!"
"I didn't mean to-"
"Hold your tongue," McGonagall barked, casting the counter-jinx. "That is ten points from Gryffindor - per child you decided to jinx before the term has even begun." Sirius opened his mouth but she cut him off again. "I do not tolerate cruelty as you well know. And do not, Mr. Black, make me take away more points from my own House. Now, the three of you, come with me."
Once her wounds were treated, Ivy found herself in McGonagall's office in front of the crackling fire. The Professor handed her a goblet of pumpkin juice that had been flavoured with nutmeg, just the way she liked it.
Hearing a pop, she spotted a house elf holding a wooden tray of food that she assumed was from the Start of Term Feast. The house elf placed the tray on Ivy's lap and evaporated into thin air with a sharp snap.
Looking questioningly up at the Head of Gryffindor House, McGonagall gave her a curt nod.
Ivy dug in at a feverish pace, downing the roast beef and potatoes as though she hadn't been fed in weeks. Once finished, the same house elf popped back in, only to vanish again with the tray.
"Thank you," she broke the silence. "I should've said so earlier… It's been a long day."
"I assumed as much," the Professor sighed. "I think it's safe to say it's been not just a long day, but a long several weeks."
"Yes," Ivy said quietly, staring down at her hands in her lap.
"I understand that you recently lost your sister."
"Yes."
"I'd like to offer my sincerest condolences. One so young should not have to bear such a burden as death."
She shrugged, not sure how to respond.
"Your sister was a Squib, was she not?"
Ivy's gaze snapped up to the elderly witch's stern yet concerned face. "How did you know that?"
"It would've been your sister's first year," the Professor said. "But Hogwarts didn't send her a letter. In a pureblood family, that's quite odd, quite rare. And a direct indication of being born without magic."
"Please don't tell anyone," Ivy squeaked, on the verge of tears. "My House, they'll all hate me. And my parents will-" She cut herself off, not willing to be that honest.
"There's no need to worry about that. The only other person who knows is Headmaster Dumbledore and I can assure you that we will both handle this matter with the utmost respect and discretion."
"I don't suppose," she said tentatively. "You'd be willing to make an Unbreakable Vow for my reassurance."
"You Slytherins always do need your reassurance, don't you?" The Professor gave a wry smile. "No, Ms. Selwyn, I will not be making an Unbreakable Vow with an underage witch. To do so, in fact, is illegal. You would do well to remember that."
She nodded sulkily.
"That being said, know that you can trust both myself and Headmaster Dumbledore with anything you may need to come to us about. Do you have anything you would like to tell me?" McGonagall continued to watch her with shrewd eyes. "Perhaps how your sister died so soon after her eleventh birthday?"
Ivy pondered whether the Head of Gryffindor House had just read her mind.
"The Headmaster is privy to which students become able to see the Thestrals," the Professor added. "That combined with your sister dying of a mysterious, unnamed illness, we thought that perhaps you had witnessed something."
Her shoulders tensed as she remembered the bright green flash of light and Hazel's bleeding arm where SQUIB had been forcibly branded into her. Her blue eyes, young and unmoving. The unnatural, horrible stillness of her body on the cellar floor.
"Ivy," McGonagall spoke gently. "We can only help you if you tell us what happened. If you do, I swear you will be taken care of. No one will hurt you for telling the truth and you will be protected with the best that magic can offer."
Ivy stared at her clenched fists in her lap, unable to meet her gaze.
"If you can trust, just a little, we can and will make things better."
The offer was sorely tempting and for a moment she pondered accepting. But the reality of getting help wasn't much better than her current situation; she'd essentially be an orphan, left with no friends or money. Indeed, she was not daring or stupid enough to take such a massive risk.
Ivy would bide her time, choose her battles wisely, and be the last thing anyone saw coming.
And so, she kept the truth prisoner in her lungs.