I woke up to an excruciating pain in my eyes. I tried to blink but realized with a start that I couldn't see. I gingerly reached up, feeling that my motion was oddly restricted, like I was attached to something, and felt my face. It was covered in coarse bandages to about my nose.
Suddenly, the events of that night came flooding back to me; I had been found out. I was attacked, tortured. And Charlie. He had saved me, I was sure of it. There was no one else who had known where I had been, nor could anyone have had the same voice as him. My pulse quickened. What if something had happened to him? How could I forgive myself if something had happened to him because of me?
I could hear a nurse come bustling into my room. "Oh, good dear, you're awake. You've had quite a rough time, I'd wager."
"M-my eyes…will…will they be okay?" I whispered, still fingering the bandages covering my face. I couldn't even respond to the nurse's statement. I was gripped with panic; my eyes...something I had taken for granted all my life. What if they were gone, I had no idea what I would do.
"I'm…sorry. We tried everything, but the curse had taken its toll. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you won't be able to see again."
My heart plummeted. I'd never again be able to see the mountains I loved so much, never able to see my reflection, never able to see where I was going, never able to see what I was writing, never able to see what I was cooking, never able to see *his* face. I felt tears trickle down my cheeks, pooling in the rough fabric wrapped around my face, as my breath caught in my throat.
The nurse must have noticed my distress, because she tried to comfort me, "but you'll of course be able to live a semi-normal life. Lots of blind people do, you know. Your other senses will grow stronger. Don't worry."
That only made me cry harder. I would be eternally alone in this darkness. "Can you at least take off the bandages?"
"I'm sorry but I can't. There was some scarring from the spell that still needs to heal."
Great, I thought, now I would be blind and hideous. No one in their right mind would ever love me. I flopped back on the pillows, turning onto my side and curling into a ball.
"But, there was a man, rather handsome, I must say, who stayed by your side for almost a week. He said that he had to leave and go back to work, but told me to let you know that he said he would visit you later."
"Charlie," I whispered. So he was alright. Thank Merlin. I don't know what I would have done had he been hurt.
"Yes, I do believe he said his name was Charlie."
He had said he would visit me. I couldn't let that happen. I was probably hideous, even though I couldn't see myself, I knew that I had been disfigured. I didn't want Charlie to see me like this. I had to get away from here. I had to leave.
"Please, don't let him in if he comes to see me. Don't tell him where I am. I- I don't want him to see me like this. Please," I implored.
"Are you sure? He seemed to care for you very much. I'm sure he wouldn't care what you look like," the nurse tried to console me, but I would hear none of it. Who was she to try and tell me that he cared for me or what he would think? She did not know him; she couldn't be sure and I refused to let my hopes up only to have them crushed.
"I'm sure. It's better this way. A clean break, as it were. Just…please. Let me out of here. I can't stay here. Anywhere else is better. Please." I needed to be alone. I couldn't handle this. My life had literally fallen apart in a matter of a week.
I would go somewhere where no one would find me; I would go to number 13 Grimmauld Place, my old family home. I knew that the home next to it had once belonged to the Black family, and I was sure that at least there I would not be found, as the Black family had been abandoned, last I had heard of it.
"I do not think that would be wise, but if that is really what you want, I will try to arrange it," she said, and judging by her footfalls, she left the room.
I sat there, waiting for her, my mind blank, my emotions gone. I was numb, feeling nothing. I listened to the ticking of the clock, the rolling of wheels on carts passing by in the hall outside my room.
A while later, my nurse returned, "You're free to go. I checked with your healer and he said that your scars are fairly well healed, despite what I told you earlier, so you should be fine to go. I'll take off your bandages."
I sat there, completely still as she unwrapped the gauze from around my head. I don't know what I was expecting; whether or not I expected to magically regain my sight, but a feeling of despair and hopelessness swept over me when I realized that nothing had changed; I was blind. I felt my face. I could feel the ragged scars that had once been cuts. I must be truly hideous, grotesque. I would hide myself from the world. It would be in everyone's best interest.
And that is how I came to be here, sitting in the kitchen of number 13 Grimuald Place, playing with my food. Since I left St. Mungo's, I had been here for about 7 months, and not once in that time, had I left the house. Our old house elf, Tinker, had stayed behind long after my parents had moved out, and was more than willing to fetch me food and anything else I found myself in need of.
My schedule was mundane and I felt myself lose without a purpose in this world. I would wake up every morning at 9 AM, attempt to make myself breakfast, undoubtedly mess it up, leaving me crying while Tinker prepared me something. Then I would walk to the couch and lay there, listening to the radio until 2 PM, at which time Tinker called me into the kitchen for lunch.
After eating, I would sit down at the piano and play until dinner, after which I showered and went back to bed, only to repeat the schedule the next day.
Throughout this whole ordeal, the piano had been my only source of solace. I would play for hours each day, pouring my depression into the keys, the same haunting melody played over and over. I had written some songs, but I could not in any way make a record of them. I could not see to write sheet music. They were mine and mine alone. This seemed to be the one thing that I did not need my sight to do. Actually, it seemed that my piano playing had improved since I had lost my sight. I now played from feeling, instead of relying on sheet music.
Still, I missed human contact. My self-inflicted solitude was getting to me. If it weren't for Tinker, I was convinced that I would go insane. Despite the fact that my parents were considered to be blood-traitors, they raised me with all the harshness that a pure-blood family would.
I grew up constantly being told that I wasn't good enough, and through my childhood, Tinker would come to my room at night bearing a cookie and some warm milk. She was the only one to show me any kindness, and I would do my best to make sure that I was just as kind to her. I didn't care if she was a house elf. To me, she was family.
I went through my routine day after day, until one day, something changed. I was sitting by the window, basking in the rare sunlight when I heard a "pop," outside, signaling that someone had just apparated into the area. I was curious. After having concealed myself in this house for over 7 months, I wanted to go out. I wanted to see who was there, but if it was a Death Eater, I would have no way of knowing.
Throwing caution to the wind, I opened the door. After my self-inflicted lonliness, I needed an escape, if even for only a few minutes.
"Tinker, I'm going outside. Someone's here."
"Missy, is it safe? Tinker worries about Missy. She is too lonely. Maybe people here are nice. Maybe Missy will find friends."
"Tinker, if anything happens to me, get out of here. You're basically already free, but I swear, you must leave if anything, anything, happens to me." I wanted to at least protect her. I would feel awful if I was the cause of her death.
"Be careful Missy. Tinker will be watching, making sure Missy is safe," she whispered, coming up behind me.
I stepped outside, grabbing onto the railing for support. I nervously descended the stairs, hoping that I wouldn't fall down.
I heard two distinct voices, "What's the Order of the-?" one of them began.
"Not here, boy!" snarled the other, "Wait till we're inside!"
I heard the rustling of parchment and smelled something burning. I felt eyes on me, "Who are you?" the first asked shakily.
"My name's Katrina Westing. Who are you?" I asked, now worried slightly, but I had heard one of them mention the Order. I could only hope that they were talking about the Order of the Phoenix. When I had graduated, I helped convey news to the Order, as my job often let me in on inside information that would otherwise go unknown.
"Katrina Westing? You can't tell? It's me, Ha-" he was cut off by a third voice.
"Shhh. Do you really think it wise to say your name? If you know her, bring her in with us. Think about what you've just memorized," the voice said quietly.
"Come on, Katrina, you can bring your elf too." I suddenly recognized the voice.
It was Harry Potter. I had met him a few times on holiday at the Weasley's home. Knowing the situation at home, Charlie often invited me to stay with him and his family during our school years, when I had met his family and their friends, including Harry. I sighed. So much for Charlie not finding out about me.
"Thank you. And don't worry, I recognize your voice," I said. I didn't have to see him to know he was confused. Obviously anyone seeing him would know who he was so naturally, he must have been confused when I said I recognized his voice.
I heard a grinding sound and I knew that number 12 Grimmauld Place was making its appearance. I knew that the muggles had not heard anything. The stereo coming from number 11 thudded on.
"Come on, Katrina, we're going inside," Harry whispered.
"Could one of you help me in? I- I don't know where the stairs or door is," I whispered, suddenly embarrassed of my blindness. I knew I probably looked like crap. I couldn't apply makeup anymore, couldn't do my hair, which just cascaded down my shoulders in a busy mess.
"Of course," Harry said, approaching me and grabbing my hand, "Katrina? Are you alright?"
It must have been pretty dark for him to not have noticed my face yet. "Harry, when we're inside, look at me. Look at my face. You'll have your answer." I knew it was cryptic at best, but I didn't want to say it. I couldn't admit it.
"Come on, hurry," growled Moody, prodding us to get us to move.
Harry led me up the worn stone steps, opening the door for me. I grabbed the door trying to get my bearings, feeling that the knocker shaped like a twisted serpent. There appeared to be no keyhole or even letterbox.
Someone next to me withdrew his wand and tapped the door once. Many loud, metallic clicks and what sounded like the clatter of a chain banged loudly, before the door creaked open.
"Get in quick, Harry. You too, Katrina, was it?" the man whispered, "But don't go far inside and don't touch anything, alright?"
We stepped over the threshold. I could smell damp, dust, and a rotting smell that was almost sweet. Clearly, the building was in disrepair. I could hear the others filing in behind us.
"Oh, Katrina, before I forget, these are Lupin, Moody, and Tonks," he said.
"Harry, I'm going to need each of them to speak so I can put a voice with the name," I whispered.
"What? Why?"
"Remember how I told you to look at me once we were inside? Well, go ahead. Look." I nervously awaited his reaction.
I heard him draw his breath, "Katrina…what happened to you?"
"I was attacked, Harry. I was tortured by Death Eaters. They used the cruciatus curse, then used sectumsempra on me. It cut up my face, my eyes. I'm blind now. I lost my sight because of those bloody bastards," I cursed. This was the first time I had felt angry about what had happened. Gone was the sense of helplessness, and it was replaced by pure rage for the injustice they had done.
"I-I don't know what to say. I'm sorry. Truly." Harry said. I could tell he was sincere. I just nodded in return, not particularly in the mood to reply to him.
I was introduced to the others, hearing them speak, and I think I got the names matched to voices. I was still embarrassed though. I had gone so long without human contact. It would be difficult to get used to it again. I missed my solitude.
"Now stay still, everyone, while I give us a bit more light in here," Moody whispered.
I could hear hushed voices that gave me an odd feeling of foreboding. I felt like I had entered the house of a mortally ill person. There was a hissing sound, then I could only assume that old gas lamps were lit along the walls because Harry let out an audible sigh of relief.
At that point, all I wanted to do was hide my face. I was ashamed, embarrassed. I didn't want anyone to see me. I knew from Harry's reaction that I must be truly disfigured.
Just as I was about to ask if there was anywhere I could hide and stay so that I could avoid being seen by anyone else, I heard footsteps coming down the hall.
"Oh, Harry, it's lovely to see you!" Mrs. Weasley whispered. I had recognized her voice immediately. "You're looking peaky; you need feeding up, but you'll have to wait a bit for supper, I'm afraid…"
I heard her gasp, probably as she took in my appearance, "Katrina? Katrina Westing? Could that be you? Oh dear, my dear girl, what on earth happened to you? Charlie said you had been hurt, but he didn't mention this. You disappeared, we thought you were dead," She pulled me into a motherly hug, almost crushing me. "My dear, you're so thin. What happened to you? You had such a lovely body? Have you been eating?"
"Mrs. Weasly, she's a bit…sensitive, I can imagine, about what happened. She said she was attacked by Death Eaters. She lost her sight," Harry whispered.
"He's right. Death Eaters did attack me. I've been hiding since then. No one should have to see my face. I probably look like a troll. As for my weight, I haven't had much of an appetite as of late. I haven't done much of anything, really," I replied, turning away from her.
"Dear you absolutely do not look anything like a troll. You're still the same beautiful girl that you've always been. Now I you'll excuse me, the meeting is going on, only for members of the Order, of course. Ron and Hermione are upstairs, you two can wait with them until the meeting's over and then we'll have dinner. And keep your voice down in the hall," she added in an urgent whisper.
"Why," I questioned.
"I don't want to wake anything up."
"Why'd you—"
"I'll explain later, I've got to hurry, I'm supposed to be at the meeting—I'll just show you where you'll be sleeping. Katrina, do you mind sleeping with the twins? We weren't expecting you, dear."
"It's fine, Mrs. Weasley. Fred and George are always welcome company," I smiled.
She led us quietly through the house. Harry whispered to me about everything we passed, curtains, mounted heads on plaques, which to me was completely grotesque.
"Mrs. Weasley, why-"
"Ron and Hermione will explain everything, dear, I've really got to dash," she replied distractedly. "There," she said once we had reached the second landing, "Harry, you're the door on the right. I'll call you when it's over. Katrina, Ginny can show you to Fred and George's room."
I heard her footsteps hurrying down the stairs again.
"Harry, I actually think I'm just going to head upstairs. I don't think I'm quite ready to face anyone else just yet," I whispered.
"Alright. Do you need me to help you up there?" He asked, genuinely concerned.
"Ahh..no, thanks. I think I can make it."
"If you need anything, just call my name, alright?"
I nodded and made my way towards the end of the hall, trailing my hand along the wall to try and figure out where I was. Thankfully, the house was set up very similarly to how mine had been and I found my way to the next set of stairs relatively easily. I took the stairs one at a time, careful not to trip or step on anything.
Suddenly I heard a loud crash, "Uh…George tripped, it's nothing, Mum, we'll be right there," Fred called. I laughed at the fact that he thought I was his mum, but then I realized that they would be coming out any second and I tried to dash down the corridor to hide in a room where they couldn't see me, but before I had even moved an inch, I felt a gust as the door swung open.
"You're not Mum," Fred intoned. "Come here, turn around. I don't know who you are."
I tried to walk away from him, hiding my face all the while, but he grabbed my arm and turned me around, "Whaaa? Woah. What happened to your face?"
Tears stung my eyes as I struggled to turn away. "Very tactful Fred. You'll get all the ladies like that," George drawled. "Honestly, her face isn't that bad. A few scars, sure, but still pretty all the same."
"Fred? George? Do you really not recognize me? I know it's been a while, but I had hoped that at least you two would understand," my voice quavered, as I fought back tears.
"Wait…I know that voice. But, no…we thought you were dead...Katrina?"
I simply nodded instead of responding. I didn't trust myself not to cry so I stuck with the tacit response.
"Your eyes, they're so blue, a side effect of a spell maybe?... Oh, Merlin, you're blind, aren't you?" George asked. He always was the more perceptive of the two. On holidays spent with the Weasleys, I had grown especially close to the twins when Charlie was busy. Besides Charlie, they were probably my favorite members of the family.
"I assume Charlie told you about the Death Eater attack?" I couldn't tell if he nodded or not, but I continued anyway, "It left me blind. I know you thought I was dead, but I was really just next door, actually. I-I haven't really dealt with this very well. This is the first time in 7 months I've left the house, let alone talked to anyone," I admitted, a bit ashamed.
"Well we should owl Charlie then. He'll be ecstatic to see you," Fred said. I could hear the smile in his voice.
I balked. "No, please don't. I don't want him to see me like this. I'm hideous. I know that. I couldn't bear it if he saw me."
"Kat," George said, the amusement evident in his voice, "If you cant see,"
"Then how do you know you're hideous," Fred finished. "And…"
"Us being able to see, can assure you," George continued.
"That you are not, in fact, hideous."
"You just look more…"
"Rugged. It's a good look for you really. I'm sure…"
"Charlie would say the same," finished Fred.
"You know how confusing it is when you finish each other's sentences, don't you?" I questioned, a smile forming involuntarily on my face.
As George was about to respond, we heard yelling coming from a level down. Fred and George grabbed my arms, "Let's pop down and see what the fuss is about," they said before apparating us down.
"Hello Harry, we thought we heard your dulcet tones."
"You don't want to bottle up your anger like that, Harry," said Fred, "there might be a couple of people fifty miles away who didn't hear you."
I couldn't help but to grin.
"Hi Fred, George, Katrina," Hermione and Ron said.
"Hey you two," I replied quietly. I wondered why they had not mentioned my face. Everyone else had so far, but I figured it out when Harry gently squeezed my arm. I figured that he had let them know. I made a mental note to thank him later. It was nice not to have to answer questions every time, feeling self-conscious as I had been apt to do as of late.
We moved to the balcony where Fred and George used a new invention of theirs called "Extendable Ears."
Ginny soon joined us and we listened intently.
"Is Bill here," Harry asked, "I thought he was working in Egypt?"
"He applied for a desk job so he could come home and work for the Order," said Fred.
"He says he misses the tombs, but," he smirked, "there are compensations…"
"What d'you mean?" I asked, curious. It was nice to hear news of people that I hadn't heard of in a while. Being stuck in my old family home hadn't given me much of a chance to hear about what was going on out in the world.
"Remember old Fleur Delacour?" said George. "She's got a job at Gringotts to eemprove 'er Eeenglish-"
"-And Bill's been giving her a lot of private lessons," sniggered Fred.
Elbowing me lightly, George said, "Charlie's in the order too, but he's still in Romania. Dumbledore wants as many foreign wizards brought in as possible, so Charlie's trying to make contacts on his days off."
My heart leaped. How I missed him. I longed to see him, but I couldn't stand the idea of rejection. I knew that he didn't love me, and my scars would surely only serve to make me even more unlovable.
"Couldn't Percy do that?" I asked. The last I had heard, he was working in the Department of International Magical Cooperation at the Ministry of Magic.
"Whatever you do, don't mention Percy in front of Mum and Dad," Ron said in a tense voice.
"Why not?" Harry queried.
"Because every time Percy's name's mentioned, Dad breaks whatever he's holding, and Mum starts crying," Fred said.
"It's been awful," Ginny said. I could hear the sadness in her voice.
"Percy and Dad had a row," Fred said, "I've never seen Dad row with anyone like that. It's normally Mum who shouts…"
"It was the first week back after term ended," Ron said. "We were about to come and join the order. Percy came home and told us he'd been promoted."
"We were all surprised," said George, "because Percy got into a load of trouble about Crouch, there was an inquiry and everything. They said Percy ought to have realized Crouch was off his rocker and informed a superior. But you know Percy, Crouch left 'im in charge, he wasn't going to complain…"
"So how come they promoted him?"
"That's what we wondered," said Ron, who apparently seemed all too eager to keep a semblance of 'normal' conversation going now that Harry had stopped yelling, "He came home really pleased with himself—even more pleased that usual if you can imagine that—and told Dad he'd been offered a position in Fudge's own office. A really good one for someone only a year out of Hogwarts—Junior Assistant to the Minister. He expected Dad to be all impressed, I think."
"Only Dad wasn't," Fred stated grimly.
"Apparently Fudge has been storming around the Ministry checking that nobody's having any contact with Dumbledore," said George.
I sat there, drinking in the news. I hadn't heard any of this, considering that I could no longer read, and the radio didn't really report any of this. I had gone without news for almost 7 months. Thinking about it, though did make me miss my old job, though.
"Dumbledore's name's mud with the Ministry these days, see," said Fred. "They all think he's just making trouble saying You-Know-Who's back."
"Dad says Fudge has made it clear that anyone who's in league with Dumbledore can clear out their desks," said George.
"Trouble is, Fudge suspects Dad, he knows he's friendly with Dumbledore, and he's always thought Dad's a bit of a weirdo because of his Muggle obsession-"
"What's this got to do with Percy?" I asked, feeling confused, feeling like I had missed something important.
"I'm coming to that. Dad reckons Fudge only wants Percy in his office because he wants to use him to spy on the family—and Dumbledore"
Someone, I think it was Harry, let out a low whistle.
"Bet Percy loved that."
Ron laughed, but it was hollow, more rueful, "He went completely berserk. He said—well he said loads of terrible stuff. He said he's been having to struggle against Dad's lousy reputation ever since he joined the Ministry and that Dad's got no ambition and that's why we've always been—you know—not had a lot of money, I mean-"
I could tell that this was a difficult subject for him. Growing up, I had always had plenty of money, but once I was out of school, my parents had told me I was on my own. I knew full well what it was like to struggle to make rent, to not have enough money for food, even. "What?" I said in absolute disbelief.
"I know," said Ron quietly, "and it got even worse. He said Dad was an idiot to run around with Dumbledore, that Dumbledore was heading for trouble and Dad was going to go down with him, and that he—Percy—knew where his loyalty lay, and it was with the Ministry. And if Mum and Dad were going to become traitors to the Ministry he was going to make sure everyone knew he didn't belong to our family anymore. And he packed his bags the same night and left. He's living here in London now."
I had always thought Percy was a bit of a git, but this was a whole new level, even for him. I couldn't stand even thinking of him. What a jerk. He didn't know what it was like to live without family, I thought bitterly. He was an idiot for giving it up so easily.
"But Percy must know Voldemort's back," Harry said very slowly. "He's not stupid, he must know your mum and dad wouldn't risk everything without proof-"
"Yeah, well your name got dragged into the row," Ron said, sounding quite guilty. "Percy said the only evidence was your word and…I dunno…he didn't think it was enough."
I honestly couldn't believe my ears. Percy was a complete prat; a total wanker.
"Harry, have you been reading the Daily Prophet?" Hermione asked. My heart dropped. I used to work for them. I wondered just how bad this would be.
"Well, they're writing about you as though you're this deluded attention-seeking person who thinks he's a great tragic hero or something. They keep slipping in snide comments about you. If some far-fetched story appears they say something like 'a tale worthy of Harry Potter' and if anyone has a funny accident or anything it's 'let'shope he hasn't got a scar on his forehead or we'll be asked to worship him next-'"
"Harry, I'm so sorry. That's awful I can't help but feel some responsibility for this. After all, I used to work for them. Maybe if I had stayed, I could have changed this," I said.
"Katrina, don't even think this is your fault. They're in denial. What matters is that you're here. Honestly, I don't even know how much of a difference you could have made there anyway, considering that it seems that all of them are against me. They might have started writing things about you too."
Harry gave me a light hug. I still felt a little guilty, but his words comforted me some.
"And of course, they didn't report a word about the dementors attacking you," said Hermione, "Someone's told them to keep that quiet. That should've been a really big story, out-of-control dementors. They haven't even reported that you broke the International Statue of Secrecy – we thought they would, it would tie in so well with this image of you as some stupid show-off—we think they're biding their time until you're expelled, then they're really going to go to town—I mean, if you're expelled, obviously."
"You really shouldn't be, not if they abide by their own laws, there's no case against you," I pointed out.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps coming up their stairs became audible. I assume that Fred or George gave the Extendable Ear a tug to hide it, and then apparated away. Mrs. Weasley appeared in the doorway seconds later.
"The meeting's over, you can come down and have dinner now, everyone's dying to see you two, Harry and Katrina."
We trooped downstairs, me at the back, carefully holding onto the banister, descending very slowly, careful not to fall. Back at my home, I had fallen too many times to count. Going down the stairs when you're blind isn't easy at all. I tended to miss a step then go falling down. It wasn't a pleasant experience and had left me with many bruises.
"Snape never eats here," Ron whispered quietly to Harry and me. "Thank Merlin. C'mon."
"We're eating in the kitchen," Mrs. Weasley whispered. I honestly wondered what was going on with all the whispering. "Harry, if you'll just tiptoe with Katrina across the hall, it's through this door here-"
CRASH!
"Tonks!"
"I'm sorry!" wailed Tonks. I assumed she had knocked over something like an umbrella stand or rubbish bin.
Whatever said next was drowned out by an earsplitting screech. It was a portrait of old Mrs. Black. She screamed her lungs out, "Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers!"
Tonks kept apologizing, and a great effort was made to shut up the portrait.
Then I heard a voice that I had not heard since I was a child, "I said—shut – UP!"
Someone must have closed the curtains again because the horrible screeching stopped.
"Hello, Harry, I see you've met my mother," he said gruffly, "Oh, and who is this with you?"