To prequel the details that Theo is about to reveal, I think it's best to take a step back and break the fourth wall for a moment, if only for clarity purposes.
That said, the rest of the chapter will be a bit of a recap of my life, to organize some info and fill in some blanks.
So, let's dig in, shall we?
On April 24, 1960, I was born in Pleasanton California to Marina and Louis Carter. My mother named me Adella, after her mother. 10 months later she gave birth to a boy, whom she named Ronan. Ronan was my half-brother, his father lived in England, I'm not completely sure what his relationship with my mom was. Nevertheless, he was out of the picture, and so Ronan and I lived with my parents by the sea for 4 years, until my mom and dad died in July, 1964.
From there, we moved out to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania with my grandparents, who renamed us as Sydney and Theodore, not liking the oceanic affiliations of our birth names. Not liking the oceanic affiliations of anything, for that matter. But more on that in a bit.
According to my mom's journal, which I was left after she died, she and my dad knew Theo and I were magical when we were very young. But, I didn't show clear signs of being a mermaid until I was eleven. Sure, I was always drawn to the water, but living in the middle of Pennsylvania, far from any bodies of water, dampens those senses. My symptoms grew slowly, and now depending on how much water I am actually exposed to, I start to turn. I first get small semicircular scales that run all along my skin, then gills slit my sides, and finally my legs lace together into a tail, but a full transformation has only happened once before. Because I'm only a quarter mermaid, I don't appear quite as horrifying as the full mermaids portrayed in textbooks and pictures, but it's definitely not a fun experience.
My grandparents were muggles, who relied on such texts and photos, and therefore were extremely upset when my father returned from his wizarding school across the country with a half-mermaid. When they both died years later, my grandparents' hatred only grew. Therefore, it's understandable why, when eleven year old me started itching after every shower and spotting small red marks up my arms, they were quick to shut down any letters from the fancy school that bred my mom and took their son. They told me to say I was allergic to water and never speak of my condition.
While it was slightly frustrating to not understand myself, I had Theo, and that made it okay.
Theo and I were practically inseparable. We were almost twins with our age, we looked entirely similar, we fooled around with magic together, we endured the same hardships, and we both heard the voices.
Remember those? They showed up around age eleven as well, only this time Theo could hear them too. Being a quarter-merperson as well, it was sort of a toss up whether he and I would transform (obviously I do, but he doesn't), but he could still hear the people calling to him. He was still drawn to the water. It was another thing that kept us so close.
As I developed more symptoms, my grandparents had more hushed conversations, and Theo grew more suspicious. He was nervous in fifth grade when I would leave the bathroom, arms dripping in blood after a shower. He was disgusted in seventh grade when we went swimming in the pool and I came out with gills in my sides. He was horrified in ninth grade when our grandparents showed us one of the textbooks with the photos. And he was angry in eleventh when I intercepted the letter from the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and considered leaning into being a mermaid.
When Theo revealed my condition to my friends last summer and moved out to England with his dad, it sold me on the school. I had nothing to stay for in America and everything to find in Europe. I wrote back to the headmaster immediately and he arranged for all of my things to be shipped to me before the fall.
When my grandparents dropped me off at the train station, they were less than thrilled. They refused to come to the platform, being too traumatized by the loss of their son and too angry that I had turned out so much like their daughter-in-law: stubborn, overly curious, and looking for danger. Perhaps that's why I was sorted into Gryffindor so quickly.
My grandparents also promised that I would not be welcome home upon attending the school. They feared I would return less than human and kill them the way my mom killed my dad (their words, not mine). While it was heartbreaking to hear, I had already lost the entirety of my family, and this was just the final piece.
The home I have made for myself here, though, makes up for it completely.
Alice is a sunny pond. She makes the best late night cookies, and she's a perfect listener. She's constantly bright and bubbly, warming everyone up around her. She has the loudest laugh, the best advice, and the cutest dresses. She's everything I wish I could be.
Marlene is a rushing stream. She's unpredictable, funny, fiery. She's up for anything at any time in any place. I know she has my back 100% even if I'm wrong. She has the quickest comebacks, the craziest stories, and the best aim on the quidditch field.
Lily is a calm pool. She's logical and thorough. She gives me the truth in closed corners, but she wouldn't hesitate to hex anyone who stepped out of line. She's funny in a natural sense, she's effortless in everything she does. She's our balance.
Peter is a little brook. Innocent, protective, easily excited. He knows everything without being told, which is why he wins every bet. But he's never cocky about it, he'll guess your biggest secret and never bring it up, giving you full control. He holds a small voice, but he uses it well. He's all of our little brothers.
Sirius is a waterfall. He throws every emotion into every action, no hesitation. He lives life at a constant free fall, making things up as he goes along. He pushes me to take risks, to not worry about the rocks at the bottom, to just fly, even if for a short while.
James is a winding creek. He's like my annoying older brother, making fun of my every move, pushing me around, constantly laughing. But, he's always there to catch me when I fall. He would never let anything hurt me, and I know that. He has completely taken my under his wing, and I would trust him with my life.
And then there's Remus. Remus is layered. He's constantly pushing people away, keeping them at arm's length, for their own safety. He takes on the quiet, depthless, role, which is far from accurate. Remus is just as sunny as Alice, as fiery as Marlene, as responsible as Lily. He's observant, like Peter, passionate, like Sirius, and reliable, like James. He's a mosaic of his friends, but beyond that he's himself. Sarcastic, soft, selfless, slow-tempered, and frustratingly self-conscious.
Remus is a new wave, turning the page and starting over. Remus is the undertow, grabbing your ankles and never letting go. Remus is a tidal wave, crashing down making you rethink everything you've ever known, he's the first breath of fresh air when you finally surface. Remus is sea foam, bubbly, light, simple. Remus is a buoy, holding you up when you can't bear to go on. Remus is every chapter. He's everything. Remus is the ocean.
So, you can imagine how I felt that day in the Great Hall. Peter sitting across from me, Remus's strong hand squeezing mine comfortingly, Theo telling me that there's so much that I don't know. You can imagine how terrifying it was, hearing that everything I just told you may have been a lie. Hearing that all of the people I just described may be lost at sea. You can imagine the way my heart stopped beating, if only for a second. You can imagine the way the tide receded, foreshadowing a murderous tsunami.
You can imagine it, right?