The Mudblood

Chapter 108 : Summer

This drawing of Lainey was made by https://www.quotev.com/TheMusician :)

"No."

The old photograph fell from my hand, cascading toward the ground as though it were as light as a feather. Literally it was, yes, but figuratively it bore more weight than I was ready to handle—more than I would ever be ready to handle.

"No," I repeated, staring down at the picture of the Potter family that lay at my feet. Despite my current dismay, they were all still smiling and waving. Even I, the little red haired baby, was smiling innocently. How old could I have been? If it was autumn, I should have been...almost ten months, but the baby in the photograph looked so tiny and wrinkly. But then, if I were born in January, like I'd grown up believing, Harry and I would only be five months apart in age, and if we had the same mother that would be physically impossible. Snape was right all along, then. My birthday wasn't January 8th. And Lyle wasn't my twin.

"No!" I shouted this time, stomping the heel of my boot on top of the faces of the Potters—the faces of my family.

"NO!" I shrieked now, reaching into the pocket of my pants for my wand but finding it wasn't there. Harry had disarmed me back at Hogwarts; my brother had disarmed me.

The fury within me made me want to blast every stray piece of parchment that littered the floor and watch them all erupt in flames that would reflect my indignation. I would gladly start a fire now, even though the very sight of fire made me want to scream. It had killed Lyle. But...Lyle wasn't even my brother. What did it matter to me that he had died? What did it matter that he'd been taken from me? He was never mine in the first place. He was never my brother. Harry was.

Whatever words I screeched this time were unintelligible. I wanted to punch, rip, blast, destroy—release the anger that's origin I couldn't pinpoint. Who could I even blame for this awful revelation? My parents—who weren't really my parents—who had raised me to believe I was one of their own when they knew that I was not? Lupin, for purposely keeping this secret from me? Sirius, for not blurting it out sooner? Snape, for being ignorant enough to think that I knew? Voldemort, for killing my real parents? Harry, for being the Chosen One and being the reason that Voldemort killed our parents? Myself, for being naïve enough to believe that a Seer could come from a mostly Muggle family? Myself, for being dumb enough never to question it? Or myself, for not being just an ordinary Mudblood?

I kicked my bedpost, cursed myself when my toes began to throb, and then grabbed a heavy metal candleholder from my nightstand and threw it at the closed door. The thin wood shattered, leaving a hole that was as hollow as my heart felt. I wanted to be a Mudblood. I wanted to be a Muggle, even. I'd said it so many times, but that didn't change the truth. Garren, Evan, Lyle—they were all brothers, but I was not their sister. I was not a Fitzroy. I was not a Muggle-born; I didn't even have Gaudium blood. I was a Potter: A half-blood, with, apparently, a Seer in my ancestry. Remus Lupin wasn't my uncle. Harry Potter was my brother—and I was his enemy. Because despite the fact that my origin was not what I thought, the choices that I'd made still stood: I still bore the Dark Mark on my arm, and this did not change that.

With a shrieking groan, I crumbled onto the floor beside the picture of Harry's family—my family, which was only one of the many letters and papers that scattered the floor. My fingers trembled as I picked it up again and watched as James and Lily both waved and baby Harry smiled. Salt prickled my eyes and heat burned my throat as acceptance began to seep in. This was my family. Most of them were dead, yes, just like my fake family, but here they were in this picture, waving like they could see me. If they could see me though, they would not be waving; they would not be smiling. They would be disgusted. They would see the Mark on my arm and they would hate me. Just like Lyle or Evan or Garren or Ray or Lisa would.