|
||||||||
|
||||||||
Author: Elsha Story: Discussions Rating: Young Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: WIP Reviews: 6 Words: 19,719
August 20, 1996 Dear Theo, No, it wasn't us. We're okay, all my family. Well, not okay, but unharmed, alive. But I knew there was an attack. I saw it this morning when I got up early, the Dark Mark hanging in the air, green and — have you ever seen it? I don't suppose so. It was close, too close, right out of my bedroom window when I got up and opened the curtains. We had a visit from an Obliviator who was coming round to modify all the Muggles' memories — we're not listed as a wizarding household, so they had to check. You'll probably have seen in the paper who it was, by now. I mean, the Daily Prophet loves to rack up panic, doesn't it. I'm rambling, aren't I? Not surprising. I'm sitting in our living room, at the table, looking out the window. It's such a lovely day I should be outside, but I'm just too scared. This was too close. They killed them. The Martins, that is, down the road, the parents and Elise and Hector. Andy, Andromache, she's okay — no, not okay, but she's alive. They said the Death Eaters didn't realise she was there — she was having a bad night, she has those sometimes, nightmares. I know from when I've babysat her. Her parents let her sleep in their bed when that happens. So she was asleep in their bed, and when her parents went downstairs because they heard a noise, or whatever did happen, they left her there. The Death Eaters didn't see her when they came for her sister and her brother. Elise and Hector. God, Theo, they were so young! Elise was going to be a second year, she was such a bright girl — I hate saying was — and dedicated, and I liked her. I could talk to her. She was a Hufflepuff, you know. Huge smile and sunny nature and the loudest yell of anyone when we were winning at Quidditch. Hector was a bit annoying, he was seven, but he wasn't all that bad. He played with Nicola a lot, they used to build forts and climb trees and play castles. Nicola loved it. And the parents, Priam and Roberta, they were so wonderful when I found out I was a witch, they came over and explained everything, and Roberta took me and Mum to Diagon Alley that first time, she's a Muggle, but she knows everything about the wizarding world. They told my parents about the Death Eaters. They were there for me when my parents didn't understand, about the basilisk or the Triwizard Tournament or Cedric Diggory. This summer, they were there to tell about what it was like with Dumbledore gone and Umbridge and her Inquisition Squad — to ask if they'd heard anything more than what the Prophet said — my link to our world. Priam Martin put up some wards on our house, just in case, but the wards on theirs didn't help them, not at all. Roberta was over here just yesterday to ask me if I wanted to baby-sit for them this Saturday. They were going to a dinner party at some friends'. They lived through the first war, they told me about it, how this happened. How people came home or woke up to see the Dark Mark floating over someone's house, and they'd know. And now they're dead and they didn't do anything and God, Theo, I'm scared. Why them? I know there've been attacks for the last few weeks but I never thought it'd be them, or us, or anyone close. Some neighbours of my friend Ellie's were killed the other day but — I never thought it'd happen here. Andromache's at our house, at the moment. She never heard anything, never saw it. When the Aurors got there they found her still asleep in her parents' bed. They asked us to look after her, since we knew her, until they can contact her next-of-kin. She has an uncle who's a wizard, apparently, her mum's brother — that's how her mum met a wizard, through her brother. She's so lucky, to have that, to be alive. I'll miss her. When she goes, of course. She's being very quiet, it's not like her, she's so bubbly, she's always telling stories or asking for them. She was told about her parents and her brother and sister. I don't think she understands. They say you can't, if you're younger than seven, you just know they're not there anymore. Maybe that's best. No, best would be if they were still alive. God, I'm depressed. Write back soon. I need to talk — well, not talk, but — you know what I mean. No one else here knows the wizarding world quite well enough. Dad's at work, Mum's in…slight shock, I think. She never quite understood that this is a war. People will die, are dying. I might. Terry's reading. Edmund's off at a cricket game. Nicola's somewhere. No one to talk to, really. I think I'll go tell Andy a story. Maybe we'll both feel better. Now I really am rambling. I'd better stop. Write back soon. I need — what I need is to talk to you. What I'm going to get is a letter. Poor second right now. Love Jo, Hal's right. This is definitely not something we need to waste our time on trying to crack the code — it all matches up. There is a Muggle-born witch called Anne Fairleigh resident at the address, she is in Hufflepuff, she does have a sister who recently received her Hogwarts letter, and she did know the Martins — they were the nearest wizarding family, and since they were victims of the latest attack, I think we can pretty safely rule out them using her name in some way to send and receive letters. Especially if you look at the letter from her to Nott jr about the deaths — that's the reaction of someone very cut up, and besides, I talked to Pip Summers, who helped on that case, and the youngest daughter did go to the Fairleighs for the day after. It's genuine. There isn't anything going on here. Well, Nott's father might argue the point if he wasn't in Azkaban, but from our point of view this can only be a good thing ! 151; one less future Death Eater on our hands. However, I do reckon we should keep looking at the letters — you never know, Nott might let something slip that we could use, and as long as he's unaware of it, we can use it. Regards, Anne, are you alright? I mean, that attack yesterday, that was really close to where you live…do you know those people? Elise Martin was in our House, I don't remember her very well but if you don't know them — she was the tallish brown-haired first-year who fell into that swamp the Weasley twins made and had to be hauled out by Filch. It's getting awfully close to home, isn't it? People who lived near Ellie, people who lived near you. I got an owl from Gabby, I'm going to go and see her and Ellie on the twenty-third in Diagon Alley. Mai can't make it, she's got some family thing, I think it might be her sister's birthday. I'd almost forgotten her sister would be starting school this year — I wonder if she'll be in our House? Can you come to Diagon Alley? Gabby said you hadn't mentioned it. We'll be seeing each other in ten days anyway, not very long at all. The summer holidays get shorter and shorter every year, it's like it's deliberate or something. Love, PS I almost forgot I hadn't mentioned it to you — I'm the prefect for Hufflepuff for our year! I'm so excited, I thought it'd be Ellie or Mai! I wonder which boy is the other one? Dear Anne, I don't quite know how to put this, but I — I suppose the traditional way to put it would be I'm sorry. For you, for there being an attack so close to your home — for people you know dying. It would be untrue to say I feel sorry for your neighbours, because I never knew them. Except, of course, in your mentions of them in your letters. I do feel badly about the youngest — Andromache — it must be very hard for her, suddenly having her family taken away like that. I've never really thought of the war in this way before; I've always seen it as a conflict in which I may be forced to choose sides, but in which I would participate (if I was ever forced to) as — not as a victim. Not as someone who is in danger from it. Knowing you are is one thing, knowing friends of yours have actually died — it's quite another. It brings it much closer, somehow — I can look back at your letters and see the Martins through your eyes, as real people, and now they're gone. This war is nasty, even if it has barely begun. It's the innocents who are dying, because they are being targeted — people who haven't done anything. I suppose that's the crux of why I don't want to work for the Dark Lord; I couldn't go out and kill someone just because I was told to, just for what they are. It wouldn't be worth it. Typical selfish Slytherin, aren't I? No moral conviction. Just the knowledge that it wouldn't be worth it to me. I find I really don't know what to say, now or at home. My father — he was there. And my uncle, but that's not as bad. I'm quite sure of it, it's why I wrote to you scared that it was you. That had to be one of the worst nights of my entire life to date, waiting for your owl to tell me that you were okay. I had no idea what I would say if — how could I face my father after that? How can I now, knowing about your neighbours? But I find it hard to connect the two. I know what my father is, but when I see him, somehow all I can see is my father — someone who has never been anything but parental towards me. He's my father. What else can I say? I can't look at him and see someone who would do what I know he does, even though I know it. It's really quite odd. I think it makes more sense if I think about the way I still see you — I stopped seeing you as merely a Muggle-born, because I knew you and you weren't everything I had been told Muggle-borns were. I can't see my father as a Death Eater, as — I can barely think it — a murderer, because he is my father. I think it will take an awful lot to change that, and whatever could is not something I want to happen. So I'm just not going to think about it. That's probably the best idea. Then again, burying my head in the sand won't solve anything — but what other options do I have? I am rather glad I can write to you about this, seeing as we've discussed it in part already. Certainly there's no one else I could talk to about it. If I was wondering about my aunt, I'm not any more. She was…out, last night. My uncle was at your neighbours' house. Lucas is too young, but Celia must know, must understand. How does she rationalise it? I can't ask. It's becoming harder and harder not to. I've been flying more, lately. I can do that because my aunt's house is so isolated, so it's not as if any Muggles will see me. Flying just for fun isn't something I normally do, but it's a way of getting out of the house, and I've been needing to do that more and more. It's a distraction, and an escape. Like playing music, like Saturdays were before we started talking about things outside of music. Do you do that? Do things to avoid having to worry or think? I somehow doubt it. You're far too clear-headed. Love from, Dear Theo, Thanks. That was — I know what you were trying to say. It's hard, isn't is, to write down these sort of things. I remember fumbling over what to say about your father — the issue gets so clouded in this sort of situation that you know what you feel, what you mean, but it's difficult to put it into words. They're so impractical sometimes, it's so easy to mess things up. That's why I prefer talking face to face; on one hand, you can't say as much as you would in a letter, but on the other hand, you can read someone's face and know what they mean without them having to stumble around trying to say it. Andy's gone. Her uncle came to pick her up, her mother's brother. He was very nice, and Andy was so happy to see him, but it's still hard — she doesn't understand. She keeps asking when her parents are going to come back, when she can go home, where Hector and Elise — except she calls them "Hekkie" and "Lise" — are. When you tell her they're not coming back, she just keeps asking where they are. She doesn't understand, not at all, and it breaks my heart to have to try and explain. My parents have been so wonderful. I know that they can't protect me, but they can — they can be there, and they can look after Andy. It's impossible not to feel safe, even if I know they're Muggles and there'd be nothing they could do if it was us. Andy's uncle — Ted Tonks, he was called – talked to Mum and Dad a bit about what's happening, and the war, and all that. He's Muggle-born, so he knows what it's like to suddenly find out about this whole different world, and to have to deal with a war as well. His daughter's an Auror, apparently — she was hurt at that incident at the Ministry in June when your dad was — you know. I think my parents felt better after talking to him. At least Andy will be safe, or as safe as she can be. But I'll miss her so much. And Hector, and Elise, and looking after them. It's awful, but — one of my first thoughts after I heard was that there went my babysitting job on Saturday. I feel like I shouldn't have thought it, but then I was so shocked I didn't have much control over anything. It was all too close. The funeral's taking a little while to organise, the Ministry haven't let the bodies go yet — it sounds so indifferent — so I won't be able to go, because it'll probably be after we go back. I wish I could, I think things like that are important to be able to say g! oodbye. Mum and Dad and the others will go, Theresa will be at Hogwarts, of course. Nicola is a little young for it, maybe, but Hector was her friend, they went to the same school, and Mum reckons she needs to understand. So do I, for that matter. Theresa was dreadfully upset about Elise, they were almost the same age so they got on better than Elise and I did. It was a pretty harsh awakening into what our world is going through — it almost made her not want to go to Hogwarts, but I've been getting her to practice some of those spells you suggested, on me — the sacrifices I go through! — and she can manage a couple of them, which is pretty good. So she's feeling more confident now. We're going to go to Diagon Alley on the twenty-seventh, to buy our school things, books and all that. The list was quite short this year, but Theresa needs everything, of course, apart from schoolbooks, since mine are still lying around somewhere — I must go and have a look for them, I think they're in the bottom of my chest of drawers but I'm not sure. You know how it is with bedrooms, you put something somewhere, forget about it for two years, and it vanishes entirely. I need another quill and more ink and parchment and the usual things. It'll be nice to go back, I've been very lucky this summer — what with going to Mai's, and babysitting for the Martins', and the first trip to Diagon Alley, I've barely missed the wizarding world at all! Not to mention receiving quite regular owls from you, and others from my friends (whose letters are far less philosophical and far shorter, I must say.) And then back to Hogwarts next week — the summer's just flown by. Part of that it waking up every morning and seeing some new attack in the paper. Time flies when bad things are happening, and when you're having fun in the in between parts — well. Love, Dear Anne, It was a shame you couldn't come and meet up with us in Diagon Alley. I managed to make it after all — my parents decided to take my sister shopping for her school things — so I caught up with the others at Fortescue's and we had a good goss. Gabby would not stop talking about Chris — we really need to do something about that. Sarah, however, seems to have entirely recovered from the whole Jeremy thing and was quite cheerful, instead of sulky like she normally is if we mention any of the boys in our year. It's almost enough to make me feel left out without a boyfriend, but I guess I'll live. We can be single together, right? Sarah mentioned you and your sister are going into Diagon Alley tomorrow to get her school things. She said you'd been teaching your sister some magic, she already had a wand — well, Peggy has hers, and she's been really keen on learning some spells. Jacob taught her a couple of easy ones, but he has this thing about not doing too much because then she won't be learning anything when she does them at school. (Peggy's so quiet, she actually thinks he's right. She's such a Ravenclaw, she'll definitely end up in there. Could be interesting — three of us in three Houses…) See you in a few days, P.S. I heard about your neighbours — you must feel awful. I remember Elise Martin, she was so upbeat and dedicated. And then, of course, there was the swamp incident which no one is going to forget. This war just sucks. Anne, Don't go to Diagon Alley tomorrow. Put it off, do it the next day, you'll be okay then, but you can't go tomorrow. I don't care what you do, don't go, stay right where you are! Don't let your family go either, it won't be safe, and your neighbours — that was too damn close anyway. Use whatever excuse you have to. I know you'll understand why. Theo Theo, Got your note this morning, your owl wouldn't let me leave it. We're sitting tight. Thanks. Anne Io, Letter from Theodore Nott to his little girlfriend in Essex intercepted telling her to not go to Diagon Alley under any circumstances. I suggest we have a team sent there, he sounded pretty frightened about the idea of her going - I quote " I don't care what you do, don't go, stay right where you are! " If nothing happens, we can waste a few people for a day, if something does…this is the first good lead we've had on an attack prior to it happening, we need to follow through. Since Nott jr has no idea about the surveillance, and isn't telling anyone he's writing, the source won't be compromised. Johanna Dear Ms Hartley, I would like to congratulate you and your team on the handling of the post surveillance for the families of known Death Eaters. Your quick action yesterday led to a team intercepting the attempted attack on Diagon Alley and preventing any civilian casualties. This is the first attack by Voldemort's forces we have managed to stop before it could go ahead all summer, and as such is sorely needed. You have all done an excellent job. Yours sincerely, Theo, I just saw the Daily Prophet about what happened yesterday in Diagon Alley. Thanks for the warning; if we'd been there, it could have been pretty bad. I know no one was killed, but still…I wonder how they knew? The Aurors must have some sort of intelligence network, I guess. This is a war, after all. Unless they managed to read the note you sent me — but I somehow doubt that. Who's going to be reading our letters? Apart from the attempts by my little sister, of course…I am getting a lock before the next holidays. Or, better, charming something to put my private things in so dear Nic can't open it. We went today instead, on the basis that lightning doesn't strike twice. Mum is pretty upset about all of this, as you can imagine. First the Martins — which is close to home — and then me insisting that we can't go on a shopping trip we've been planning for weeks. I had to practically beg to get her to not go. It wasn't precisely easy — I didn't want to mention you, exactly, so I put it along the lines of "someone I know knows someone who knows about this sort of thing and it's really not safe." She was unhappy about it, but we didn't go in the end - Theresa was really put off with me. She was looking forward to getting her school things. Everyone accepted it after I showed them the Daily Prophet this morning, though. Then I had to sit through this barrage of questions on how I'd known. And why if someone had told me they hadn't told anyone else. I had to admit that someone from school told me, but that's all. Nothing about you, or your father, or anything of that nature. My parents have always been sort of cagey about magic and our world mixing with theirs, and they're even more so now. I've caught them giving me quite a few funny looks - I can't imagine what they must think of my choice in friends! Fortunately, I don't think they've connected the dots (they do know I made a new friend last year, after all.) I think they've decided it's easier not to know, I don't blame them. I wish I could sometimes, but then I couldn't go back to Hogwarts, and I'd die before doing that. My friends don't seem to want to think about the war, either. I got a letter from one of them - Mai Ng - and she chattered on about everyday stuff and then casually dropped in that it was terrible about Elise in the postsript. I know she didn't know Elise - except she did, she was in our House, she'd met her - oh, maybe I'm being unfair. I want to hear about my friends, but - people I liked are dead and Mai has to be so - so normal. I suppose it's good if people can hold on to that normality but is it that, or just obliviousness? I wish I knew. I shouldn't brood, you do enough for the pair of us. As it is, my stuff's all bought and packed — we have a new Defence textbook, thankfully, I'll be interested to see how it goes this year. I wonder who the teacher will be? Someone new, of course. Anyone would be better than Umbridge. Even another one like Moody or whoever he really was — he might have turned out to be a Death Eater, but we did at least learn stuff. It would be wonderful to have Professor Lupin back, but that's not going to happen. He was such a great teacher. The other thing we did in Diagon Alley you might want to know about was buy Theresa a cat. We did it after we'd gone and got her robes and books and cauldron and potions things. I and Ed and Nicola, that is, for her birthday. We told her about it on her birthday, but we had to wait to get it. She's a scraggly little thing, bigger than a kitten but not quite a cat, with yellow-gold fur, really fluffy, like a Persian, and yellow eyes. She's a bit…feral, I guess, but she likes Terry okay, it's only the rest of us she just tolerates. Terry named her Medea, because she was doing Greek Myths at school or something at the end of last term, and Medea was in the legend of Jason and the Golden Fleece. Mind you, Medea was probably a historical figure — I'll have to look it up in the textbooks! I keep forgetting that sort of thing is real. I guess I'll see you on the Hogwarts Express — and we can talk on the first Saturday. Looking forward to it! Love Dear Anne, It was a bit risky to tell you that, but as long as your family don't know I did, it isn't a problem. And as long as mine don't know I told you — not that I plan to tell them that! It wouldn't matter too much if your parents knew anyway, they are Muggles, but you know the saying, if three people know it isn't a secret. And, no offence, but I think your parents are probably never going to understand our world anyway. It'd be almost impossible, without magic. I have enough trouble understanding how the Muggle world works without it! All they ways they must have developed to work without magic. I'm looking forward to seeing what House your sister is placed in during the Sorting. I suppose it would be best if she was in Hufflepuff with you, but it would be funny if she got into Slytherin. Then again, that wouldn't be a very good thing. Muggle-borns in our House tend to bear the brunt of people like Malfoy being jerks, and there wouldn't be too much I could do publicly to protect her. Probably best if she's in one of the other Houses. Her cat sounds — interesting. I'm not a cat person, myself. That is to say, I don't like cats, and they do not like me. With interest. I suppose that's another good reason to hope she's not in Slytherin. We got new Defence books, too; Aunt Karena took Celia and I into Diagon Alley today. Defensive Magic and The Dark Arts: Wizarding Wars of the Twentieth Century. Seems like we might be learning about the first war against the Dark Lord. We need to. I saw Potter, Granger and Weasley in Flourish and Blotts, actually. They seem to have survived the summer. Some things don't change — Malfoy will go and irritate them on the train, and they will either hex him or otherwise send him away. Malfoy will come back to our compartment in a bad temper and snap at us. I will ignore him. Crabbe and Goyle will be too thick to understand. Malfoy will mutter about what he's going to do to Potter this year, and will succeed at none of it. They will hex him into oblivion on the way home. But that's a long time away, and dependent on them — and us — surviving the intervening year, which is not necessarily going to happen. Potter has the Dark Lord after him, and Malfoy has Potter after him. I'm just trying to stay out of everyone's way, which is equally improbable at this point. I have, to be honest, this terrible feeling that at some point or another I am going to be forced to choose sides — not because I want to, but because it is unlikely neutrality will be allowed. I'll do my best, but — I know what I won't do, though, and that's be a Death Eater. After hearing Dad over the summer…I couldn't do that. I couldn't murder anyone, I think, not unless it was my life at stake. Not because I have high moral principles about it, or anything, but simply because I don't want to be forced to see anyone die, not if I can avoid it. And besides, the likely victims in this war are people like you. I very much don't want you to die. Being a Death Eater, in those circumstances, is far too hypocritical for me to swallow. But if I'm not going to work for the Dark Lord, the only other side available is Potter and those who are fighting him, and frankly I have no desire to do that either. The risk is very high and the chances of winning rather low. Which leaves me with very few options, at the moment. But then, it's still just over a year until I'm of age — I don't turn sixteen until a week after we return to school — and I have until then, maybe until the end of my seventh year, to decide. If I do choose to fight — if that is really the only option, although I hope it isn't — I can always…I don't know, ask Potter or something. After all, how does one sign up to be on the opposite side? It's not like becoming a Death Eater, is it? I remember telling you there was no good noun to describe This is all extremely gloomy and depressing, so I'll leave it at that. Don't worry about your friends forgetting the war; I think they're lucky. They can forget it. Total obliviousness is dangerous, but enjoy it selectively while you can. I'm afraid I'm in a rather depressed mood today. I need you to come and be irritatingly calm and cheerful, or something of the sort. As it is, I'll see you very soon. I'm looking forward to it. Love, P.S. Bring some nice cheerful music on Saturday, how's that for an idea? Ode to Joy? Hey Anne, Know I'll see you tomorrow, but I wanted to say that I'm going to be dropped off at the train station a little early, so do you want to meet by the barrier about quarter to eleven and we'll go in together? If I don't see you by ten to I'll just go on in. Can't wait to have a proper talk, it seems to long since I've seen you! And so much has happened this summer — the world seems to be going crazy, I tell you. See you soon, Johanna, The intercepted copy of the latest letter from Nott jr has arrived, looks like it will be the last for now. A pity, no adult in any of the families being surveyed will be quite that candid in their writing, and we were receiving some useful information. Naïve teenagers can be useful, it seems — he clearly had no idea of the value of what he was saying to us. Although it did look like he is very anti his family's allegiances, which may have been a factor. But Dion and I both felt — and so did Edith when we asked her — that we'd rather not be reading these letters, felt a tad voyeuristic. After all, it isn't as if he was a Death Eater. Anyway, I've attached a copy of the letter, you can see for yourself. Regards,
|