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Author: Elsha Story: Discussions Rating: Young Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: WIP Reviews: 3 Words: 19,719
August 12, 1996 Dear Theo, I saw the newspaper this morning. I think the headline might’ve been even bigger than the one when Fudge admitted that You-Know-Who was really back. Mind you, fair enough. It was always pretty obvious that they weren’t going to be able to keep a grip on Azkaban after the Dementors left, but it sounds like they were really hoping that it’d last a bit longer. As it is, not everyone escaped, but pretty much all of the Death Eaters from the sound of things. But then, you’d know. I hope you get to see your dad again pretty soon. He should be really proud of your OWL results, they were very good. I’ll be lucky to do half as well — it’s intimidating! But I’m still nervous about the fact that all those people escaped. If the Ministry can’t keep them locked up, what are they going to do with them if they do capture them again? Where are they going to put them? It’s easy for the Death Eaters, they just kill anyone who’s on the other side, but the Ministry has to have proper trials and all that. Are Aurors allowed to use the Unforgivables? I seem to remember reading something that said they were allowed to in the first war but I can’t remember where. Then again, there are lots of other ways to kill people than to use Avada Kedavra, I mean even the simplest spells can probably be lethal if you do particular things with them, but I suppose they’re the very worst. That’s why they’re called the Unforgivables. Do you think there’s much chance of anything happening here? My parents seem to think it’s all so far away but it isn’t, it’s the same country, it’s people we both know. Cedric Diggory. He was in my House, after all. Not that there are very many wizards where I live, just the Martins, I told you about them, but Mrs. Martin’s a Muggle and that’s what the Death Eaters are against, isn’t it? Not that you’d even think about it most of the time, she’s totally happy in the magic world. I’d hate it if anything happened to them, their kids are so little — Elise is only twelve, and she’s the oldest. It’d kill her. By the way, they got that information pack as well, and Mr. Martin came around to put up a couple of wards on our house. It wouldn’t help all that much if the Death Eaters really did come, but it was a neighbourly thing to do, and it makes me feel better. In other (happier) news, Theresa’s got her wand! We made a short trip to Diagon Alley today just to do that and show her around, she’d never been there before. We’re going to leave getting her other school things until the end of the month, but she was nagging Mum about it for so long, and between getting her wand and going to Hogwarts is the only chance she’ll have to do any magic at home until she’s seventeen, so Mum said yes. It was rowan and dragon heartstring, nine inches, "rather difficult to handle" as Ollivander put it. It’s Terry who's difficult, half the time. I stopped in at the Quidditch shop and got a copy of that magazine you mentioned — you might not remember, it was a while ago. Just to have a look, and things. I never knew you could get so many types of brooms — but then, look at cars, or even simple things like shoes. So I suppose it’s not that surprising. It was great to be back in the Wizarding world again, apart from my visit to Mai’s and babysitting the Martin kids. That went really well, by the way, her brother and sister are nice and it was great being in a wizarding household, there’s so much done by magic! I never imagined quite how much could be. Her sister’s starting this year, like Terry, she’s very shy (unlike Terry, who’s — well, Terry.) It was good to see Mai again, as well, we had a good talk and she told me some more stuff about the war that isn’t in the paper but her father hears about. He used to be some sort of diplomat, or something. Diagon Alley was quieter than normal, the attacks I guess — I hate it how everything comes back to that. But all the shops were still there, and Terry spent a very long time looking in the window of the pet shop, declaring her intention to get a cat if she’s allowed one. I think I might ask Mum if Nicola and Ed and I can chip in for one for a birthday present for her. It’d be something nice (if stretching the budget a little.) If she does get a cat, I just hope it leaves Gwaihir alone. And your Bronwyn when she’s over delivering letters. Mind you, they’re both fairly big owls, aren’t they, so the cat might be the one in trouble! I don’t actually mind cats that much, but I like having an owl better. So much more useful. Speaking of animals, if you don’t mind me asking…why can you see Thestrals? Don’t tell me if you don’t want to. I know it's none of my business. Anyway, I’ve rambled on for quite long enough — if you haven’t got bored and wandered off to play the piano or something! Love, P.S. Jokes as well? You have been corrupted. I’d try to cackle, but unfortunately I’m writing, so I can’t. You’ll just have to imagine it. August 12, 1996 Anne, Do you want to meet in Diagon Alley on the twenty-third? That’s when I’m going in to get my school stuff, I think Ellie is too, we should try and get together. You’ll be coming with your sister, of course, is she looking forward to Hogwarts? I know I couldn’t wait, when I got my letter. Has she got a wand yet? I’m a bit worried by everything that’s been happening, to be honest, so many people have got killed and it’s been just a couple of weeks. What’s happening? They seem to be going for Ministry people and their families. We should all be okay, but I just don’t know. Enough of the gloomy stuff, guess what, Chris has been writing to me! Isn’t that cool? I mean, how many boys write letters? And they’re pretty long ones too. I really think I might be lucky here…cross your fingers! Only three more weeks ‘till school starts and I can see him again, too! Why does time go so slowly in the holidays? See you, August 14, 1996 Dear Anne, Yes, I have seen my father. He stopped in briefly, but he couldn’t stay too long, because, well, you know. I wish I could have had a proper talk to him, but he was talking to my aunt and uncle for a lot of the time. I need to talk to him, even if there are some things I can't say. The Ministry are going to be keeping an eye on us after this, an eye on everyone who has family who were in the breakout. Post owls are notoriously hard to catch, though, so I doubt they’ll be reading this. I hope not, anyway. I cringe at the thought of some Auror reading my ramblings about how much I hate Care of Magical Creatures, or on broomsticks. Or anything I’ve written, really. They would probably find it quite amusing. These letters are very dangerous, have you noticed that? It’s so easy to pour your heart out, almost as bad as having a diary, because it’s not face to face and you know it’s only going to go to one person. I find I’m letting myself say more in these letters than I think I ever did in the five or so months I knew you at Hogwarts. It’s oddly disturbing. But then again, you seem to be writing almost as much, and I’d hate to stop. As much as part of me says it’s dangerous, it also feels quite safe having someone to talk to. Not talk, of course, since there are letters, but — discuss things with, might be a better term. And enough of the philosophy. You do make me talk far too much. Even when you’re in Essex I can still see you listening so attentively, leaning against the table in that practice room with your flute in one hand. You’re frowning slightly, and tapping your fingers on the flute, giving whatever it is I’m saying far more attention than it actually deserves. You manage to listen even when you aren’t, somehow. I just brood. It’s a far less attractive quality. Good God, I am rambling. Almost as bad as some of your letters! And no offence meant, but you can drift off topic startlingly at times. Not that it isn’t interesting, of course — it’s always interesting. Believe me, I have never abandoned a letter of yours in favour of the piano. And all this is an attempt to not talk about my father, not that I don’t want to tell you, but the topic is currently rather unsettling. My aunt seems a little less distracted, more relaxed, now her older brother is free. She knows he’s not in Azkaban. I’m happier, knowing that. Even with knowing what he is — I hate the thought of him locked up. He’s like me. We both like the moors, the open places. He hated Azkaban, I can tell. Even without the Dementors, he looked so much older than the last time I saw him — then again, that was Christmas. He was quite happy with my results, although he was disappointed I failed Care of Magical Creatures. I didn’t care, but I felt bad about it because he felt bad, you know? I hate disappointing him. We only have each other, a lot of the time, and he puts so much of his hope onto me. I know that he believes he's making the world a better place for me by being a Death Eater. It scares me. But I felt so — safe, just for a couple of hours, because he was back and I have the residual childhood belief that my father can keep me safe. He can’t, I know, but it isn’t a rational thing. I wish he’d been able to stay longer — but then he might have been caught, and that would be — not good. On the other hand, I’m afraid about my father being out, not because of him, but because of what it means. There’ve been attacks already, and now with more Death Eaters there’ll be more. I’m safe, but you just may not be — and what about everyone else? I keep seeing us going back to a Hogwarts where half the students are gone, and I hate it. People there may not be friends, they may not be Slytherins, but — if they died or something because of what they are — that would be — terrible. That sounds like a cliché, but it’s what I mean. I don’t want them to die. And yet people will, and part of that will be because my father is free, and I’m happy he is, which makes me feel vaguely guilty even though I have never done nor have any intention of doing anything for the Dark Lord. As you have said, everything does keep coming back to this, doesn’t it? The war, the consequences, the choices. More for me than you, but even so — I would give anything for life to go back to fourth year, when all we had to worry about was watching the Triwizard Tournament and hoping Diggory won it. (I’m assuming that as a Hufflepuff you supported him.) Death and danger are so much more palatable when they’re in a controlled environment — for rather obvious reasons. And most especially happening to people who have volunteered. No one volunteers to be a victim. Watching someone die — it’s not exactly pleasant. To answer your question: I saw my cousin die, Celia and Lucas's older brother, which is why I can see the Thestrals. I was eight. This is depressing, so I’ll tell you the why and how another time. Right. Happy thoughts. How is your brother’s, what was it, cricket going? Are you practising your flute a lot? Is your sister learning any magic, and is she driving you crazy with it? Do you wish you were back at Hogwarts? Don’t the holidays go slowly when bad things are happening, or maybe it’s faster, what do you think? Am I rambling? Yours PS I finally worked out what I meant by all that nonsense at the top of the letter about you listening. And what’s responsible for the sentimental bits we’ve been discussing. I miss you. It made far more sense when I re-read it, not that it makes all that much sense, but that was the gist of it. Memo Hal, mate, I almost feel bad after reading that last letter from the Nott kid. It did have some useful info – we can try and track down Eric Nott, and if we know he was at home some time between the thirteenth and the fifteenth, it’s all data – but still, it is a bit off reading other people’s letters. Especially some of these latest ones - it's a bit personal. I know, it’s not like we're reading love letters or anything. Although these two are so clueless it's cute. On the other hand, it has a funny kind of fascination. Sort of like watching Home and Away. You know you shouldn’t be, and you feel like you’re prying, but you keep wanting to see what comes next. I never reckoned I'd be doing something like this when I signed up to be an Auror – still, you learn something new every day, don’t you? Dion P.S. The actual point of this memo was to "request your thoughts on the latest intercepted correspondence" – that’s what I told Hartley I was doing, interfering cow. I could come over and talk to you, but I like making the paper planes more. Memo Dion, Agree with what you said. Mainly when I was reading that bit where he speculated if we could be reading it – I just hope he never finds out that someone was reading his letters. If it was me, I'd want to go and hide in my room for the next year if I found out. Have you noticed that Jo still won't take our word that these letters are genuine? She had me trying to figure out codes all day yesterday. It's getting ridiculous. By the way, why are we sending memos when we’re just across the room from each other? And what in Merlin’s name is "Home and Away"? My dad’s Muggle-born, but that’s not anything he’s ever mentioned. Hal Memo Hal, We’re sending memos because it’s almost lunchtime, I’ve finished what I’m doing, and with the hard yakka we’re putting in now I can’t be stuffed telling Jo I’ve finished and getting a whole lot more. I’ll do that after lunch. Coming over and talking to you’d be too obvious. As for Home and Away, it’s a TV programme, soap opera type of thing, but it’s from back in Aussie so you wouldn’t know it. It’s sort of like your Coronation St only lower grade. You do know about TV, don't you? Dion August 16, 1996 Dear Theo, I’m glad to hear you got to see your father. The news has been so depressing what with the attacks getting more frequent, and more people dying, it’s nice to know someone got something happy out of it. Damn, that sounds awful. I mean, obviously people are going to be happy about this in a nasty way, the ones who are doing it, but I was glad that something innocently happy came out of it. If that’s the phrase – not really, but you know what I mean, don’t you? You’re right, I’m way better at listening than I am at talking. I always seem to get my thoughts mixed up, or they come out wrong, and when it’s something like this that’s the last thing you want. Then again, this is the type of topic where it’s so hard to find the right thing to say anyway, so I guess it’s not surprising. You were right about letters being – well, you said dangerous, but the word I’d use is addictive, because it’s so impossible to say some things face to face. Not to mention embarrassing. It’s like keeping a diary, you can say anything you want to, or almost. I did that for my first year at Hogwarts, just to keep a handle on things because I was so far away from home, but I gave it up in second year, after I got closer to the other girls. It was too hard too keep up, and anyway, they kept wanting to read it, and I like all of them, but – there’s stuff you don’t want to tell anyone, or at least, not most people. There’s things I’d write to you I wouldn’t tell them, but then, there are definitely things I discuss with the girls I wouldn’t be writing to you about (that is, unless you want to carry on a conversation about whether Ron Weasley is really as cute as Harry Potter And no, this is not a topic I willingly talk about. I blame it all on Gabby.) But I do tell you more than almost anyone else. You’re not so bad at listening, yourself. You don’t make me feel like an idiot. Okay, you used to quite a lot, or at least you made me feel like you thought I was an idiot. But you don’t anymore, and certainly not in any of these letters, so forget I said that. And forget about the Thestrals thing. Like I said, it’s not any of my business. I’ve been teaching Theresa some magic, although it’s difficult since I can’t demonstrate. So far we’ve done Wingardium Leviosa, some of the really basic charms in my first-year textbook, and Reparo. I figured it would be a good idea to have her able to fix broken things — at least for the next two weeks, until we go back! Do you have any ideas about what else I should teach her? She’s having quite a lot of trouble, since she is just starting out, but she’s getting better fast. Ollivander was right about her wand. She tends to not do things for ages and then overdo them, but her control is improving. At least, she hasn’t blown anything up yet, and that’s definitely a good thing! I’ve finished all my homework, even that awful Potions essay, so I can relax until school starts again — I wish they didn’t give us homework over the summer holidays, it seems unfair, but there’s not much you can do about it is there? As for my brother’s cricket team, nice of you to ask, they’re winning quite a few of their games, I think. My brother was really happy because he got three wickets in their last game — he’s a bowler, that’s the one who throws the ball at the batsman. Of course he bats as well but bowlers don’t score as many runs normally. Oh, and something else — turns out one of the summer players for their team goes to Hogwarts! Not anyone I know, he’s a third year Gryffindor, and he comes from quite a ways away. I only found out because I went along to watch one of the games, Ed was going on about it — I try to do things with him, since I’m away most of the year — and his wand fell out of his cricket bag after the game, so I asked him about it. I wasn’t surprised he was carrying it, really, he’s half-blood and with all the attacks people are nervous. Nicola is the only one without something to keep her busy, so she’s been watching me try to teach Terry magic — she keeps making comments about how she wants to be able to do it. Still, she does keep pretty quiet, so I can’t really complain. I do, of course, but then that’s what siblings are for. I wouldn’t not have them for anything. Rambling and sentimentality in letters have to be directly linked, I swear. Love, P.S. I sort of figured it out. About missing me. Not that it was really obvious or something. But it was a bit. P.P.S. I miss you. I'm pretty sure you know that. August 18, 1996 Dear Anne, I think you need to teach your sister some defensive spells. I know that she’s only starting at Hogwarts, but she could use them and anyone can master the Bodybind Jinx if they practice long enough. Or the Leg-Locker Curse. Just think, you get to be target practice, isn’t that going to be fun? But I’m quite serious. With things the way they are, you need someone in the house who knows those spells, since you can’t use magic — not that you’d get in trouble if your family was attacked and you used magic, but two have better odds than one. And when she starts at Hogwarts, they’ll be useful too. With the war, quite a few of my House are going to feel entirely justified about picking on some of the Muggle-born first and second years who will presumably be unable to defend themselves, and if she already knows some spells like that — even if she can’t do them right all the time — then she’ll be ahead of the game. And, of course, the image of Malfoy going after some supposedly defenceless first-year and ending up petrified is a particularly pleasant one, I have to tell you. Watching him be nasty to the younger kids all of last year was — slightly uncomfortable. It wasn’t as if they were doing anything to him, after! all, even if they were only first-years. I see no point in unjustified attacks. They merely make you enemies — Malfoy certainly has enough! The only people in my year and House who seem to realise this are Blaise Zabini and Tracey Davis. They both keep very quiet, but Zabini is a bit odd. He may not be doing what Malfoy does, but I’m not entirely sure I’d trust him not to if no one was looking. Of course, there are very few people I trust entirely, so this isn’t too much of a surprise. I said I’d tell you about my cousin, so I will. It’s not some big secret, or anything. He was Celia and Lucas’s older brother, two years older than me. They were over visiting one day, and he’d brought his new broom; I was insanely jealous, because I didn’t have one. He said I could have a ride on it, so we sneaked out while the adults were talking. As soon as we were outside, he flew off; he wasn’t going to let some whiny eight-year-old on his new broom. I yelled after him, but he ignored me. I don’t know if you know Yorkshire at all, but there are some quite steep bluffs, and he flew straight out over one near our house. It doesn’t look like there’s a drop, but there is. He must have got a fright, or lost control, or — I don’t know. It was blowing a gale, that day. Maybe a gust caught him. I saw him disappear. I waited, and he didn’t come back. I was scared to go back to the house — we weren’t supposed to be out there — so I climbed down the sheep-track, instead. It took me about ten minutes. I wasn’t supposed to do that, either. He wasn’t dead, when I got there. Wizards — well, we’re hard to kill. More so than Muggles, at any rate. But he wasn’t unconscious, either. Just lying there, with his neck all wrong, and his eyes closed. I shook him by the shoulders, to make him open his eyes. I know that’s the worst thing to do, now. I didn’t then. He did look at me. He said he couldn’t feel anything. That was all. There was blood coming out of his mouth. I remember that more than anything; the sun through the clouds, the new growth on the field, and the blood trickling down his face and onto the ground. Then he closed his eyes again. I saw him die. I don’t know if you’ll quite understand that; I mean I could tell. Whoever says the dead look like they’re sleeping — well, they’re wrong. I can’t describe it, but you know. You can’t miss it. I didn’t bother trying to make him wake up again. I was eight, but I wasn’t stupid. So I just stayed there. My mother came to look for us, eventually. It had clearedup, that was the worst thing. All the clouds were gone, and it was sunny and still. Even the wind had died. And I was just kneeling there beside him because you can’t run away from death, and that’s the only way I knew how to deal with it; run. I told them he was dead when I found him. It was easier. In fact, I don't think anyone knows I did see him die - some of my Housemates might have worked it out when they realised I could see the Thestrals, but they didn't ask. And I didn't tell. That’s half the reason I’m running from being a Death Eater. I know what death means, and it’s not pretty or fair or fun. I couldn’t do that, kill someone, because I know if I did I’d just see Kenneth. Because I realised then that if he could die, it could have been me. It could be anyone else I cared about. Malfoy, the others, they don’t know what that means; they think death is easy. So when I realised the Dark Lord might come back, I decided to run as soon as I could. I wasn't going to risk seeing death again. Then I ran into you, and things started changing. That’s what I hate about this war; it could be me, and now…it could be you. I don’t want that, and the Dark Lord deals death too easily. I miss home so much, now. I like our house; it’s big, and old, and rambling, and there’re all sorts of hidden nooks and crannies that you can curl up into with a book on a rainy day. There’s always somewhere else to discover, something that's been hidden for decades or centuires. My father told me my mother always thought it was too "lower class", because it’s obvious it was once a farmhouse. I don't see how she could think that. It feels like home to me — it is my home, and I’ll always want to come back. I hate the thought of it lying empty waiting for my father and me to return. I suppose our house elf is there, but - that doesn't count. It's the Nott home, and for the first time we are not there. I love the countryside there, too — it’s so wild and open. You just know that there aren’t any people for miles, and there’s nothing in the way of the sky. That’s one of the reasons I like Hogwarts — it’s in the middle of the country, and you can see the stars at night. Astronomy is one of my favourite subjects; but I prefer, when I’m looking at the stars, to just look at all of them. Not just one, through a telescope. You live in a town, so you probably know what the sky is like there, but it’s nothing compared to the sky at night in the country. It’s magnificent. Love from, P.S. You are certainly right about rambling and sentimentality. I was practically waxing poetic. Oh dear. August 19, 1996 (about midnight) Anne, Dad and the others got back. There was an attack in your town, I heard him say. He was there. Tell me you’re okay, tell me it wasn’t you. As fast as you can. Please. Theo August 20, 1996 Theo, I’m okay. So is my family. No, I’m not okay – but not like you meant. It wasn't us. God help me, it wasn't us. I’ll write later. Anne
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