Chapter Text
Winter break had begun at last, and I decided to remain at school for the holiday. This was no surprise. However, this time I planned to do some secret research, which had nothing to do with my studies. No one needed to know what I was up to.
I waited until after dinner, when all my Housemates had left, before beginning my little field trip. Excitement aside, it was a relief to finally be alone in this blessed silence, absent the cheers and shouts of teenagers anxious to go home for a few weeks. They often shouted anyway, regardless of the occasion, and I was loathe to join in; I’d long ceased pretending I could relate to my peers when their behavior baffled me. If they wanted to throw parties and sneak alcohol into their dorms while playing childish games, they could do that, as long as they left me out of it. I had better things to do. Unlike them, I had huge ambitions. I had plans and goals that couldn’t wait until after graduation.
Despite the slogan oft associated with my House, my classmates' drive to succeed paled next to mine. I'd been called “suck-up” and “bookworm” countless times, but I knew that such taunts were the product of jealousy. Their envy meant that I had an advantage. I had every right to feel superior.
It had been a tumultuous journey, growing up among people so different from me—both at home and at school—but my Housemates and I had reached some level of understanding over the past few years: I didn’t act out when I wasn’t wanted; and when they chose to include me, my “friends” accepted my mystifying personality as part of the package. I wouldn’t bother them if they wouldn’t bother me.
Alone as I was in the common room, they certainly couldn’t bother me now.
I showered, brushed my teeth, reapplied my makeup, and put on one of my personal outfits—I figured I’d attract less attention in Knockturn Alley by not wearing a Hogwarts uniform. I climbed the stairs out of the dungeons, into the Entrance Hall, and out of the school. Every few seconds, I glanced around to make sure no one was following me. I’d never trusted anyone, and today was no exception.
I quickly Apparated to Knockturn Alley upon arriving in Hogsmeade. Suddenly hit with a blast of cold air, I wrapped my green and silver scarf more tightly around my neck. This didn’t do much, so I cast a quick warming spell.
I grinned as I looked around at all the shops, pleased with how well I was containing my enthusiasm. It wasn't every day that a student slipped out of Hogwarts undetected, the way I had just done. This little adventure would surely land me in detention, were I caught. But I knew I was too careful for that. I had planned this trip for weeks.
It wasn't only Hogwarts I was sneaking away from, however. My parents, back in the States, consider themselves the epitome of all that is Pure and Good. So cliché. Everyone on my mother’s side, from England, has either been in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, and never caused any trouble with the Ministry. My mother moved to America to marry my father, where the Wizarding world operates more democratically—they had hoped to raise their children in a more secure environment, outside of the shenanigans in the UK. So, imagine their surprise—and apprehension—when I not only received a letter from Hogwarts, but I then became my family’s first and only Slytherin! (My little sister ended up a Ravenclaw, so no more surprises there.)
Though I tried to justify my Sorting by accentuating my ambition and desire for success, I couldn’t be truly honest with my anxious parents. I never can be. They don’t even know me. They know that I’m a little off-center and have never quite fit in anywhere, but they’ve never grasped exactly how different I really am. I may behave reasonably well in public; but on the inside, I am a fucking monster and my parents would disown me if they had the slightest inkling of my true nature. I have always felt stifled around my relatives, which is why I only return home when it’s absolutely necessary. I don’t blend in with my family of model citizens. (If one were to peruse the American or British Ministry’s records of troublemakers in the Wizarding world, they'd not find a single relative of mine.)
I was five years old in May of 1993, when the American Wizarding world learned of the death of twelve-year-old Harry Potter and the subsequent second rise of Lord Voldemort. No one knew for sure how the Dark Lord was able to return, after the Potter boy had somehow vanquished him while still an infant. I didn’t know too much about this—it had all happened before I was born, and it was completely outside my realm of understanding. I was more interested in learning to read, and counting down the years until I was old enough to use a wand. It was just as well, seeing as the British Wizarding world was in denial for years. And even after they finally admitted the truth and alerted their citizens, my parents kept the information from me until I was thirteen.
For as far back as I can remember, rumors have been circulating that Death Eaters are slowly infiltrating the British Ministry of Magic. I’ve heard whispers of new rules...new regulations...laws that would never have been put into place ten years ago...a few disappearances...but no one can pinpoint exactly where these changes are coming from and who is pulling which strings. Suspicions don’t necessarily point to guilt, after all, and most people are afraid of speaking out against the Ministry anyway. The way I see it, as long as I’m safe and secure, there’s no need to worry—and Hogwarts is pretty damn safe. My sister and I wouldn’t have been allowed to go to school there if our family thought we wouldn’t be adequately protected.
Though I could easily write a textbook definition of why my parents have the concerns that they do, I can’t empathize with their raw emotions surrounding the risks of existing in a politically unstable environment. I’m not concerned about the welfare of others—I’ve never been a bleeding-heart people person like the rest of my family. I’m a stone-cold survivalist. Apart from a few close friendships and crushes I’ve had here and there, I only care about myself. And making sure no one else knows that about me. For obvious reasons. Trust me when I say that it is quite jarring for a toddler to realize that being true to themselves is dangerous, thus being unable to relax in the slightest. Enduring trauma like that forces a child to grow up and develop acute self-awareness much faster than most kids, which is what I had to do. Considering how often I’ve had to put others’ needs before my own just to protect myself and keep the peace, it’s no wonder I turned out like this. It’s no wonder I’ve always been drawn to the dark, dusty corners of human nature, scorned by most people in an effort to maintain their illusions of moral superiority. To me, darkness feels like home.
My parents, on the other hand, despise the Death Eaters and their leader, but they also make a point to keep their views close to the vest—even though they did choose to build their life together in America, far from the epicenter of political unrest. They consider it a dangerous time, especially for my mother’s family in England, but it’s all I’ve ever known. If anything, I am fascinated by all the different views on how the Wizarding world should function. As someone who has always been intrigued by the darkness present in our world, I’ve never felt explicitly threatened, apart from instances of bullying among my peers. I’ve encountered a lot of prejudice at Hogwarts, both for being different from the other kids, and also for my heritage—my sister and I are likely the only Americans at that school. Though the harassment used to get under my skin because I’ve had to constantly be on high alert, it doesn’t bother me as much anymore because I have more pressing concerns: success and survival. Along that vein, my parents would lose their minds if they knew that my post-Hogwarts plans included learning more about the darker side of the magical world, and later joining that niche in Wizarding society. Hence this first trip to Knockturn Alley.
I walked along the darkened street, trying to act as inconspicuous as possible. This went well until I thought I saw one of my Housemates’ mothers. Not bothering to see if it really was her, I slipped into the nearest store.
The store turned out to be a bookshop, and I soon found myself getting lost in a volume entitled Magick Most Evile. It was thrilling to be in public, reading a book likely banned at Hogwarts, with virtually no chance of being caught and punished; I doubted that any Hogwarts professors would mosey around in Knockturn Alley, and certainly not during the holidays. They would be at home with their families, playing games and eating glorious feasts and opening presents.
Being here was my present. Having access to the knowledge in this place was my holiday feast. And when I graduated in June and could rent a flat of my own, I’d even be able to buy books like these. Though only seventeen, I would be an adult in the eyes of the community, working and paying my own bills and therefore able to purchase anything I fancied without apology. Merlin, I’d waited so long for such a privilege, and it was now just around the corner. It was hard not to start bouncing on my heels.
I smirked as I skimmed the pages of this forbidden tome, feeling like a child who’d just found a stash of an enemy’s money. Just like stealing Galleons that weren’t supposed to be mine, I was soaking in knowledge that should have been out of reach. And I was loving it.
Suddenly, a high-pitched voice pierced the silence and jolted me back to the present moment.
“Excuse me, Miss, are you buying that?”
I almost dropped the book, and swore under my breath. Fighting the urge to shoot the clerk with my signature death glare, I plastered an angelic look on my face and said, “Actually, I was just browsing. I might come back later though.”
The clerk nodded. “All right.”
How in Salazar’s name did she get the job with a voice like that?
I was almost out the door when the woman’s voice stopped me with another aggravating inquiry.
“Forgive me, dearie, but you look awfully young to be reading books like that.” She eyed me strangely.
“I’m in my seventh year and don’t need your judgment,” I shot back, walking briskly out of the shop with an eye roll.
After advancing only a few feet, I stopped dead in my tracks. The streets were suddenly deserted.
What had happened? It had been so busy out here, no one had noticed me when I'd arrived—but personal outfit or not, I could no longer hide. I was completely exposed.
Goosebumps prickled my arms at this realization—or was that just the warming spell wearing off? Probably the spell. I was often unnecessarily paranoid. Perhaps I was doing it again? I heard no screams or other sounds of conflict, so maybe something exciting in a shop window had caught everyone’s attention. Yes, that must have been it. There was no other logical explanation.
Unless this was something illogical.
My heart beat sped up. What if I really had bitten off more than I could chew by coming to Knockturn Alley? Just because I’d found a way to secretly research the Dark Arts at Hogwarts didn’t mean it was as safe to do so in public. I was no longer in a school library; I was in the adult world...and a part of said world where unsavory characters could lash out if they felt threatened. They wouldn’t care that I was just a teenager; that my only goal had been to learn and explore. A mentally unstable lunatic could cut me down for simply looking at him the wrong way. Or Aurors could be here, searching for Death Eaters. If they had seen me thumbing through a Dark Arts book and were now employing advanced magic to isolate me—
I took a deep breath and reminded myself to stay calm. No one was out here. This was not a failed venture. If I had gotten this far once, I could surely do it again on a different day.
Tomorrow I’ll have better luck, I thought. And this isn’t even bad luck; just a strange evening. I doubt any of my Housemates would have the courage to do something like this.
Despite my inner pep talk, the sensation of dread would not leave my body. I looked around again and saw nothing alarming, but I knew I couldn’t stay. I needed to get out of Knockturn Alley as fast as possible. Something was definitely not right.