The First Signs of a Storm - Prisoner of Azkaban - Book 1

Chapter 22: What is a BlueBlood?

Storm

By the time Storm had calmed herself enough to stop balling, the sky outside was darkening and she wondered what the time was. But she didn't want to be the first to break the silence between her and her Professor, who still lay with his arms around her, cuddling her into him. She felt foolish for being so weak, so unable to compartmentalise her racing thoughts.
"How are you feeling?" She asked finally, growing awkward in the silence. "You must be exhausted from last night." Storm felt Remus tense and lay her hand on his chest. "You think I didn't know?" She added, lifting her head to look up at him, his dark green eyes full of worry.
"I suppose you remember it all?" He asked gently, wiping her eyes with his thumb. "It wasn't painless, but it was better than it has been for some time." He added, as Storm shook her head.
"I remember some - things." She breathed out, her throat sore. "But I knew from the second I saw you at the Start of Term Feast. You - weren't the first I'd encountered-" she trailed off, shaking her head. "Well, you were but - you know what I mean."
Storm's head was fried.
"Is this - as weird for you as it is for me?" She asked hesitantly, moving to sit up, shifting into a cross-legged position. "Because I have no idea what to think anymore." She hung her head, pushing her black curls from her face as Remus too, sat upright, placing a hand over hers.
"Weird? No." He shook his head. "You've always been in my thoughts. Since the day you were born - before even." He smiled a small smile. "I just regret how you got here."
Storm felt his pain, she could feel it emitting from his very skin, the faint hum vibrating her own. She pulled her hand away from his quickly, afraid of it.
"But that's not what bothers me." She shook her head. "I have that lost part of myself that I couldn't explain. I understand why you all did what you did. I remember asking you if I could stand up to Lord Voldemort. I remember the fear, the horror of the war. But it's how I feel that will break me, not what I've seen."
"I feel, different - whole." She continued, her voice small and vulnerable, her accent less broad as it had been, but heavy in her words. "I never knew what was missing, only that there was something not right with me. But now I-" she sighed, pulling a rough hand through her hair. "It's like my magic has increased, to the point where it scares me more." She snapped her fingers together and a candle above them exploded again, as the flame was snatched from the wick, now roaring at her fingertips.
Remus was watching in awe, but Storm felt sick.
"I've done everything in my power to hide it, to push it down, refusing to acknowledge it. But now it's like it has reawakened, more lethal than ever. And it feel like all the years I trained myself to control it, has been for nothing." Tears sprang to her eyes once more, but she didn't let them fall as she got to her feet, looking around the empty chambers - Evan had obviously been discharged.
"I don't want this, Uncle Moony. I - you saw my Boggart! And, remembering what I did to those Death Eaters that night - I'm a murderer." She turned her back on him, stood at the end of the bed. "How can I be myself, if it's the one thing that terrifies me?" She whipped around, her emotions more heightened than ever, as she felt the fear drown her.

"Because you know the meaning of power." Said Remus softly, as he too, climbed off the bed, moving to stand in front of her. "Voldemort and his followers craved it, they hunted it. But you, you have it. And you respect it, which is what makes you different. Not just by what you can do, but how you do it." He sent her a warm, reassuring smile as his scars contorted. "And you didn't kill them." He added. "Do not take that guilt on. Five-year-old Storm was not a murderer. And neither is 16-year-old Storm."
Without thinking, she lifted her finger to trace a small, deep scar on his chin, a new (old) memory flashed before her.
"Maybe that's why I'm in Slytherin." She whispered, dropping her hand. "I'm not a saint. I'm not pure. I've done bad things in the name of good. But to bring harm to those who hurt our family - I'm no better than them."
"That's not true!" Said Remus defiantly, grabbing her by the shoulders. "You did what any of us did - you protected your own. The war brought out the worst in all of us, but it showed us who we are. And you, my little cub, are a fighter. Just like your mother."
Storm smiled weakly, finally able to recall her mothers face, her soft voice and her delicate instructions as she'd taught Storm to read in her childhood. It was a relief to know that, despite the tragedy, Storm did remember.
"So what do I do now?" She all but pleaded. "How do I fight the one person I fear the most?"
"Not fight." Remus shook his head. "You own. Only you know yourself. And you shouldn't have to apologise for that, no matter how you feel about it. But-" he paused, looking towards the closed door of the Hospital Wing. "For now, you should start by talking through where your thoughts are at this moment."
Storm sighed, rubbing her face with her hands. She didn't know where she was right now.
"Right, but - as much as I want to-" she started, trailing off. "I can't see Lexi right now. I - want to hear it from you. I hate that I forgot you, Uncle Moony." It felt so natural. So - familiar. Yet it was odd, because she knew she didn't know him. At least, not in a deeper way than just a brief time in childhood.
It was all so weird.
"I remembered enough for the two of us." He said quietly. "But I'm still here. I never left."