Over the next month, the four functioning Fitzroys spent so much time working and selling the house that we barely had time to think about the overbearing loss that we'd suffered. Garren decided to drop out of his university and get a low-paying full-time job, which he began almost immediately. Olivia—that bitch—then dumped him because she claimed it was a "poor life choice." Her name is now taboo in the Fitzroy household. Evan, only at the age of fifteen, had also acquired a very low-paying job, therefore Lyle and I were left to try to sell the house by ourselves. Though we'd inherited a small amount of money from our father, it was not nearly enough to support a house, so we decided to sell it and move into an apartment. Luckily, Lupin was very helpful in the house-selling process, and within a month we were able to sell our small home and move into an even smaller apartment downtown, right near where Garren and Evan were working.
Of course good old Uncle Remus helped us move our belongings into the apartment, and, without even asking, the Weasley twins had also shown up to assist us on moving day.
"Whoa, Fitz," was Fred's reaction when he and his twin stepped through the open front door. I was currently stomping down the stairs with a large cardboard box in my arms, which I then haphazardly dropped on the floor once I was standing in front of the twins.
"What?" I questioned, raising my eyebrows impatiently at them.
"What is this, a wig?" Fred questioned as he pulled on my hair. What had once been a mixture of gold, blonde, and brown was now a solid tone of ebony.
I flinched back, yanking my hair from his grasp. "No—it's real. I dyed it...to reflect my mood..."
George snorted a laugh as he tilted his head to the side. "Going goth, are you Lainey?"
"No... I'm just mourning," I replied flatly. "Is that a problem?"
"When you decide to dye your hair black, yes," Fred replied, his lips twitching in a slight grin. "Did your girly friend Greengrass do that for you?"
"No...she doesn't know about it," I replied, a wry smirk spreading on my lips. "I don't think she'll like it very mu—"
"Lay, can you come help me with this box?" Lyle called from the top of the staircase. His eyes spotted the twins and a hint of a smile appeared on his face. "Oh, hey guys, thanks for coming."
"You asked them to come?" I asked my brother.
"Yeah, of course. They can do magic and stuff," Lyle replied simply. "Can one of you come help me with this box? It's pretty big—"
"I'll help," George said briskly as he walked past me.
"Wait—you guys don't have to be here—you should be spending time with your family—"
"Oh hush up, Lainey," George interrupted as he ascended the stairs. "What do you think we're going to do—go back to the Burrow and snuggle with Ronniekins?"
"Yeah, Mum's been a wreck lately anyway," Fred agreed. "Worried sick about you and Harry. And frantic about You-Know-Who's return, of course."
"Harry's not at the Burrow?" I inquired as George disappeared into one of the upstairs bedrooms.
"Dumbledore wanted him to go back with his Muggle family," Fred explained bitterly. "Though, we won't be at the Burrow too much longer either. Mum says we're relocating in a few days."
"To where?"
He shrugged. "Dunno, only heard her through our Extendable Ears."
My eyebrows shot up with intrigue. "Your what?"
"Coming through!" George bellowed as an oversized box came flying down the staircase. I jumped out of the way, colliding with Fred just as the box went smashing into the wall.
"Gotta work on that spell," George commented as I fumbled to back away from Fred.
"Er—sorry," I said embarrassedly.
He shook his head disapprovingly. "Let you sleep on the couch with me a few nights and you think you can just run into me whenever you like. Tsk, tsk, Fitz..."
I rolled my eyes dramatically at him. "C'mon, let's go help the other two with these boxes. George seems like he need a hand—"
"Oh shut it, fourth year," George called from the top of the staircase. "Bet you couldn't do it any better..."
"C'mon, Fred," I beckoned as I ascended the stairs. "I want to hear more about your Extendable Ears."
"Oi, Fitz—you are going to love what Georgey and I have created this month," Fred assured me, following me to the second level. "Extendable Ears, Nifty Noses—and we're working on something that has to do with eyes...possibly Guiding Goggles..."
A few hours later, the four of us found ourselves standing on the front porch of the vacant home, staring into it for the last time.
"Even though this is the house that Dad died in, it's also the house where all of our memories with him are," Lyle said thoughtfully. "This really sucks."
I put my hand on his shoulder. "Life sucks, Lyle."
He glanced over at me with one eyebrow raised. "Melody quote?"
I pressed my lips together, contemplating. "Mm, probably."
Closing the door to our old home should have also closed the door to the pain and grieving behind us, but it didn't really change anything at all. We'd still be mourning the death of our father; we'd still be reminded of the fact that our father had forever left this earth. Even if we changed locations a thousand times, nothing would ever change the overbearing sensation of loss.
∆
We spent the next day unpacking our belongings into our new, small apartment. There was only one tiny bedroom—in which I knew my brothers would probably destroy each other—and when I was home, I'd sleep on the couch in the living room. Though, I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to call this crammed, foreign place "home." "What is this?" George questioned as he held up an old jar full of rotting pickles. George, Fred, Lyle, and I were currently in the bedroom unloading boxes of junk as Lupin continued to Apparate our belongings into the apartment.
I gazed dully at the jar of pickles as I took it in my hands. "This is Evan's precious pickle jar," I replied sarcastically. "This jar of pickles was the only thing in our fridge on the day that Evan met Astoria. He thinks it has some kind of magical love powers."
"I think it's rancid," Lyle said, his nose scrunched. "We should just say it got lost in the old house."
"Or we should just open it on his bed," Fred suggested as he took the jar from my hands. "Oh look—he even wrote her name on it. Seems as though he spelled it wrong."
I glanced sideways at the jar to see that Evan had indeed wrote "Astorea" in permanent marker, though his handwriting was barely legible.
"Did he write this when he was five?" George scoffed as he attempted to read "Astorea."
"No," I snorted. "He was thirteen—"
"But at any age it's just plain weird," Lyle added.
"Well," Fred began, readying himself to open the rancid jar of pickles. "Guess we should just—"
There was a loud bang from the living room, and the four of us scrambled to the doorway to find that Remus Lupin was hunched over on top of large dresser, panting.
"I was sure I'd be splinched with that one," he huffed, standing up straight. "S'pose Apparating with heavy objects isn't the brightest idea."
"Are you all right?" I urged, taking a few frantic steps toward him. "Maybe we should just move the rest up by hand—like Muggles—"
"No, no, that's all right," Lupin assured me, as he rubbed his shoulder. "Perhaps I'll just stick with smaller boxes—I'm sure Garren will be able to help me later—"
"Yeah, he'll punch a hole in all the furniture so we don't have to bring it up at all," Lyle grumbled, reminiscing over the massive amounts of destruction Garren had inflicted in our old home.
"Well, that's quite the possibility..." Lupin replied wryly.
"Remus, want to come watch us pour rotten pickles on Evan's bed?" Fred asked cheerily.
"No, definitely not," I insisted as I grabbed his arm and dragged him back into the bedroom. "Let's just finish unpacking this stuff..."
"Oh come on, Fitz, what do you have that's better to do than prank your annoying brother?" Fred questioned.
"Cry. Die. Not make Evan more miserable than he already is," I said indolently as I began to remove more strange objects from the cardboard box on Lyle's bed.
"What—you're not going to prank anymore?" Fred inquired as he began to empty out the box with me. "Pretty dull, if you ask me."
"I don't know what you expect," I mumbled as I pulled out an odd statue of Evan's. "Cedric's dead, my father's dead—who's next, huh? There's got to be someone else—I didn't love Cedric—"
"Fitz, how do you know the prophecy wasn't rubbish? You don't even remember it—it could have just been the Slytherins lying—"
"And, from what you've told me, Slytherbins don't have the best morale," Lyle added matter-of-factly from the other side of the room.
I snorted sardonically. "Yeah, and your girlfriend is one of those 'Slytherbins' with low morale, so—"
"Aye—look what I found!" George enthused as he held up a small box. Through the translucent anterior, I could see that a doll-like object was within. "It's the Magically Moving Puppet that Lainey bought Lyle for his birthday."
"I forgot all about that," Lyle said as he took the box and examined the puppet. "This would have been perfect for Plan P..."
"Well why don't we use it now?" Fred suggested lightly. "You two Fitzroys seem like you need a bit of cheering up. Don't see why a bit of Plan P can't be executed when Evan comes back from work today."
"Because," I began as I snatched the box from Lyle's hands, "Plan P is torture to Evan—he's deathly afraid of puppets. It'll just make him feel even more traumatized—"
"Exactly—which will cheer us up," Lyle injected quickly. He tilted his head to the side, eyeing me knowingly. "C'mon, Lay—you can't give up on life. I'm sad Dad's gone too but...we gotta keep living. He would want us to be happy—you know that. Besides, he secretly thought our pranks on Evan were hilarious and you know it."
I sighed, reluctantly handing the boxed puppet back to Fred. "Fine—prank him. But this better be good, because I want to laugh, and that's not an easy thing for me to do these days..."
By the time Garren and Evan came home from work that day, Lupin had almost finished moving the furniture, and the two pairs of twins had nearly finished unpacking all of the Fitzroy boys' junk. Garren and Lupin immediately went back down to haul up a large couch, while Fred, George, Lyle, and I sat on the living room carpet eating cheese and crackers.
"Stupid...why do I have to work and you don't?" Evan snapped at Lyle as he slumped through the small kitchen by the entrance of the apartment. "Unfair...rotten...twerp..."
"Because no one's going to hire a fourteen year old," Lyle replied before stuffing some food in his mouth. "You're lucky Garren actually convinced someone to hire you—"
"Lucky? I'd be lucky if I could spend the whole summer unpacking boxes, or with Astoria! Or maybe I'd be lucky if our father hadn't died—"
"Evan," I injected hastily, ignoring the overwhelming ache that came with his harsh words.
"What? You know it's true, Lainey! Dad is dead—what are you going to do about it? What can any of us do about it?"
"Evan—"
"I'm going to go sulk in our new bedroom," he grumbled as he slouched over toward it. "If any of you threw out my pickle jar, I'll attack you."
"Well, that could have been a problem," Fred commented as Evan disappeared. "Good thing we opted for Plan P."
"He should see it any minute—just wait for the scream..." Lyle said as we all stared intently at the open doorway to the bedroom. The puppet should have been moving magically around the room now, scaring Evan out of his mind—but...there was no noise, no reaction. Did the prank fail?
"Maybe you purchased a defective puppet," George suggested as the four of us quietly stood up from the ground.
"Must have..." I muttered. "Evan should be freaking out—"
When we all peered keenly into the bedroom, we were surprised to see that the Magically Moving Puppet was indeed dancing around the room by its magically mobile strings. It jumped on the beds, ran around the walls, and it even hopped on Evan's head, but our stone-like brother did not move. He didn't even flinch; he just stood there motionless, his eyes dully following the crazed puppet.
"You dead, or...?" Lyle asked as he waved his hand in front of Evan's face. "Evan? Ev—"
"What?" he snapped, turning to look at Lyle with rage-filled eyes.
"Why aren't you screaming—crying—anything?" I blurted, staring at him in utter shock. "It's a puppet—your biggest fear."
Evan shrugged nonchalantly as he slumped down onto one of the beds. "What's there to be afraid of? What's there to cry about? Dad's dead—we're all going to die—what even matters?"
My face drooped as I attempted to swallow the sob in my throat. "Evan—"
"Incoming!" Lupin called from out in the living room. I expected a large box to come swooping in over our heads, but instead a large eagle owl came flying in, landing on Evan's shoulder. I expected the same lack of reaction from my brother, as did the others, because when Evan proceeded to scream as loud as he could, we all jumped back in surprise.
"Are you serious?" Lyle exploded as he covered his ears. Evan was shrieking as he ran in circles around the small room, trying to avoid the menacing bird that wanted to land on his shoulder again. "You've gotten over your pupaphobia, but you still can't get over Dev—the owl that comes into our house almost every day?"
"GET IT AWAY! GET IT AWAY!" Evan wailed as he tried to slide under the bed. Dev began to nip at his shirt, trying to pull him back out.
"Dev—Dev—" I exclaimed, trying to grab the owl and pry him away from my scrambling brother. He turned his head to me briefly, but only to bite my hand. "DEV!"
Fred swiftly pulled his wand out of his pocket and pointed it at my rowdy owl. "Stupefy!"
Dev went flying back against the wall, landing stiffly on the floor with his big eyes closed. I'd never seen him look so peaceful.
"Is he...dead?" Lyle questioned as he tiptoed over toward the motionless bird.
"Just Stunned," Fred answered as he slipped his wand back into his pocket.
I glanced over at him with my eyebrows raised. "Nice one, Weasley."
"He's got a few letters," Lyle said as he bent down next to Dev. "Evan—you can come out—Dev brought a letter from Astoria. You've got a bunch, Lainey—Ginny, Ron, Harry, Hermione, Ashley...Ryan Harper? Don't know who that is... Oh, and I got one from Melody—"
"Can you stop talking to Melody, please?" I said as I took the large pile of letters from my twin. "Seriously, she's evil."
"You don't tell Evan to stop talking to Astoria," Lyle muttered as he began to open his letter.
"That's because Astoria's not evil—she's just a whore," I replied dryly.
"And I'm okay with that," Evan piped up as he slid out from under the bed. "I don't know how, but she's become really good at snagging—"
"I have an idea of why," I snorted bitterly.
"Whoa! Melody invited me to her house!" Lyle blurted as he stared down at his letter. "Her house! Do you think this means we're actually dating? That'd be pretty sweet—"
"Um, no, absolutely not," I insisted as I snatched the letter from his hands. I skimmed it, and indeed, Melody Flemming had invited Lyle to come visit her at her house. "You cannot go to see the Flemmings—if they're anything like Melody, they're probably only luring you in so they can kill you—"
"Harmony's not that bad," George commented.
"Yeah, she's pretty nice," Fred added. "She laughs at our jokes, too, which is rare for a first year."
"They're usually too scared—"
"Even if Harmony's an angel, Melody is the spawn of all things evil, so it's still a no," I retorted flatly. "Seriously, Ly, time to get over her. Aren't there any pretty Muggle girls you can date?"
"But...I want a Flower Witch," Lyle pouted as his shoulders slumped.
"Oh just let him go," Evan groaned as he began to pry his letter from Astoria open. "Maybe he can just stay there so he's not taking up space here anymore."
"You really want to live alone with Garren?" Lyle asked dryly. "Think about that for a moment, Ev."
I let out a groaning sigh as I handed Lyle his letter. "Fine—fine—Lyle, you can go to the Flemmings, but I'm coming with you. I'm not letting psychopathic wizards take any more of my family members from me..."
∆
The next day, Lupin and the Weasley twins escorted Lyle and I to the Flemmings' before heading off to some "secret location" where they would rendezvous with the other Weasleys. Lupin asked me if I wanted to accompany them, of course, but I was obligated to protect my twin from the nefariousness of Melody Flemming. The Flemmings' house wasn't exactly a house: it was more of an enormous, castle-like mansion, hidden by a forest of darkly colored trees that encased it. When we finally arrived at the massive front door, Lyle pounded obnoxiously on it, scaring a few of the ravens in the nearby trees.
"Flower Witch!" he sang loudly. "Come get the door, my love—"
"Please don't call her that," I choked. "You're reminding me of Ryan Harper, honestly."
"Who is Ryan Harper?" Lyle demanded as he continued to bang on the door. "Don't tell me you like him too—do you?"
"No, no, he's in love with Melody," I assured him briskly, though he didn't have time to react to that comment before one of the large double doors slowly slid open.
Lyle's jaw dropped when he saw the being that had opened the door for us. I was slightly less shocked, since I'd seen house elves before, though I'd never known that Melody owned one.
"Ah—guests," the house elf greeted in a flat but formal tone. Like most house elves, this one wore a ratty garment over his torso, and nothing on his large, bare feet. He was about half my height, with a pig-snout for a nose, and floppy elephant-like ears. "And that one's a Muggle... Master won't be pleased..."
"Yeah, well Master's not here anymore, so shut up, Goopy," Melody snapped as she kicked the house elf out of the way from behind. I heard him yelp, but he quickly disappeared into the shadows of the Flemmings' dingy foyer.
"You named your house elf Goopy?" Lyle questioned as he took a step into the mansion. I followed hesitantly behind, nearly expecting a magical trap to slaughter me. "That's pretty pathetic, Flower Witch."
"I didn't name him," she grumbled. "He came like that."
"Hey, Melody, where's your book?" I questioned, eyeing her skeptically as the large front door closed magically. The long, wide corridor we stood in now held a very ominous tinge. "Why aren't you reading?"
"Why would I be reading?" she asked flatly. "When do I ever read?"
My brow knitted in bafflement as my eyes darted between Lyle and Melody. "A-Always... You always read. What—are you trying to pretend you're not a nerdy lunatic so my brother will like you?"
Melody's nose twitched as she glowered at me. "I have nothing to hide."
"Great, let's see your house then," I said briskly as I began to walk down the dreary corridor. "If you're going to date my brother—"
"We're not dating," her voice droned from behind me.
"If you're going to date my brother," I repeated, "then I want to make sure you don't plan to kill him."
"Oh come on, Lainey," Lyle groaned as the couple followed behind me. "How long have you known Melody?"
"Three years, and I still don't trust her, so that should say something, shouldn't it?"
"I don't trust you, so what does that say?" Melody retorted dryly. I gritted my teeth but ignored her as we continued down the corridor. The walls were surprisingly bare, and I was shocked not to see any weapons or creepy artifacts.
"Damn, your house is big," Lyle commented. "Surprised you weren't turned off by our tiny house. Er—what used to be our tiny house..."
"I don't expect much from Muggles," was Melody's rude response. Somehow, Lyle didn't even take offense to it. What did he see in her? She was completely cruel—absolutely abhorrent—maliciously mean—yet he still liked her. I just couldn't understand it...until I thought about how Draco Malfoy fit all of those descriptions as well...and I still...wanted to punch myself in the face for even thinking such an outrageous thought—
"This way, Mudblood," Melody growled as she yanked Lyle and I through one of the mysterious doorways. I was expecting to be locked in some dungeon in which the Flemmings would murder us, but instead, we were now in a cozy sitting room with a warm fireplace and a massive window that looked out into a garden of purple flowers. Sitting in one of the armchairs was Harmony Flemming, the second year Gryffindor girl with crazy blue hair. Like her older sister, she wore dark makeup, though her demeanor was far less menacing. She was knitting a burgundy sweater.
"Hi," she greeted timidly as we entered the room. Lyle gave her a classic wave, and I tried to force a smile at her as I examined the rest of the room. Like the corridor, this room was bare of personal belongings: no photographs, paintings or creepy artifacts. Just a bookshelf and some couches.
"Welcome," a kind voice said, and we turned to our left to see that a beautiful woman was now standing up from one of the couches. Though she looked young, I knew she must be Melody and Harmony's mother, due to the fact that their faces all looked strikingly similar. Mrs. Flemming also had oddly colored hair: pastel pink.
"You must be Lyle," Mrs. Flemming continued as she politely shook Lyle's hand. "And you must be Lainey. Melody speaks so much about you two—"
"Mother," Melody snarled as I shook Mrs. Flemming's hand. Her grip was light yet sincere, and her posture was relaxed yet elegant.
A faint smile played on Mrs. Flemming's lips as she looked between the three of us.
"You—you're actually Melody's mother?" I blurted in utter shock. "H-How did you raise something so...evil?"
Though her smile remained, Mrs. Flemming's eyes grew sad as she contemplated an appropriate response.
"You can blame our old man for that one," Harmony chimed in dryly, still knitting on the other side of the room. "Should we even call him a man, though?"
"Harmony," Mrs. Flemming scolded with her soft tone. "Why don't you girls...show our guests around, hm? Goopy should have lunch prepared shortly."
Lyle snorted to himself. "Goopy...too funny..."
"C'mon," Melody grumbled, grabbing Lyle's arm. "I'll go show you the garden."
"Since when do you care about gardens?" I sneered at her. "Since when do you care about anything other then violence?"
"Piss off, Mudblood—"
"Melody," Mrs. Flemming prompted sternly. "You know we don't use that term—"
"You don't," Melody snapped rudely. "But I can do whatever the hell I want. Come on, Lyle, we're going."
Mrs. Flemming didn't even argue when Melody dragged my brother out of the room and possibly to his death.
"Well, Melody's being unusually nice today," Harmony noted as she stood up from her seat. "Anyone else notice that?"
"She didn't try to bite me, so I suppose it's a good day," I agreed sarcastically.
"Melody's...difficult," was all Mrs. Flemming could think to say on the subject. "Perhaps you two could go follow them out to the garden?"
Harmony grunted as she dropped her half-knitted sweater onto the armchair. "Yeah, because I really want to go watch Melody snog that Muggle in the middle of a flower bed. No thanks. C'mon, Lainey, I'll go show you around."
I forced a smile at Mrs. Flemming before Harmony and I exited the room. We started down the long corridor, walking in the direction that Lyle, Melody, and I had come from.
"I suppose I'll show you the library. You'd like that, wouldn't you? You spend most of your time in the library at school—"
"Oh, you noticed," I injected sarcastically. "S'pose I have a reputation for being a nerd."
Harmony's lips formed a crooked smirk as she glanced over at me. "That, or Ron Weasley just complains about it all the time in the common room."
"Ron..." I muttered to myself. "Always has something to complain about. S'pose he doesn't complain about Hermione's library time."
"Oh—he does, but he fancies her madly so I suppose it doesn't matter," Harmony replied, her nose twitching bitterly.
"Do you—er—fancy Ron?" I asked cautiously, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye.
"That—er—no—well, it's complicated," she stammered as we stopped at one of the darkly colored doors. "Er—here is the library..."
Harmony opened the door, revealing a massive, two-story library lined with hundreds of bookshelves, and thousands of books.
"This was my father's library," she told me as we stepped through the aisles of books.
I pressed my lips together, dreading the question that I wanted to inquire. "Er—was?"
"Oh—" she blurted, glancing at me briefly. "Well—that's—complicated also. My father—he—doesn't live here anymore. He's...somewhere else..."
I bit my tongue, wanting to ask more, but knowing I shouldn't. Harmony had said that her father was the reason Melody was the way she was...and now she was saying that he was no longer here...
"My father liked...dark books," Harmony explained as she examined one of the black-covered books: Horrendous Hexes. "A trait he passed on to Melody, whether he intended to or not. She...admired him...for all of the ghastliness that he was."
"Is he...er...dead?" I asked hesitantly, peeking a glance at her as she continued to examine the books.
"No," she sighed heavily. "He's in Azkaban. I'm just waiting for the day they let the dementors kiss him, though."
My mouth fell open slightly as I tried to formulate a thought. Harmony glanced at me, her face contorted with regret.
"Er—sorry, that was harsh," she apologized uncomfortably. "I don't usually wish death upon people, but..."
She paused, slipping her wand out of her pocket to point it up at one of the towering shelves. Without any words or warning, a thick book came zooming down toward us, slamming Harmony's face so hard that she fell to the ground.
"Aw—what the—" she muttered to herself as she rubbed her face.
"Are—are you okay?" I stammered, staring down at her with wide eyes as she struggled to sit up.
"Yeah—yeah—just wasn't expecting that to work so well..." she mumbled as I reached my hand down toward her. Once she was on her feet, I picked up the book that had hit her and gently placed it in her hands.
"You're...in a lot of pain, aren't you?" Harmony asked hesitantly as she hugged the dense book to her chest and slipped her wand back into her pocket.
My mouth opened and closed as I tried to read her curious expression. "I... Yes, I s'pose I am..."
"That's why, then," she said as she held the book up.
"What—does that book try to attack people who are in pain?" I questioned, eyeing the large dark book skeptically.
"No, no...never mind," she replied, staring off vaguely. "My father used to read this book to us—Melody and I—before we went to sleep. Eliminating the Enemy: Spell Edition. He used to read the Potion Edition also, but I think Melody has that one in her room..."
"Well, remind me not to drink anything Melody ever gives me," I responded wryly. "Why did your father have such an impact on her but not on you?"
Harmony shrugged as we began to walk down the aisle again. "We're different, I guess. Melody was older when...it started. I think she understood it better—or he'd brainwashed her into understanding it better. I'll never understand why he did what he did..."
"Er...what did he do? Why did he go to Azkaban?"
"Oh—there were loads of reasons," she replied quickly. "He was terribly sadistic. I s'pose he's most famous for what he did to Muggles. He was...different than You-Know-Who. He didn't want to kill all Muggles necessarily; he wasn't even that interested in power either... For my father, it was more about seeing others suffer—seeing Muggles suffer. He had a whole cluster of methods—ranging from physical to psychological trauma... Horrible, really. Mother still won't tell me everything... I don't even know if she knows everything he's done... I don't know if anyone does..."
I stared off at the window in the distance, contemplating her words. It made sense now, Melody's obsession with all things gruesome. Her father had been that way; her father had been worse. But now that I had a clearer idea of what kind of background Melody came from, I realized what she might be capable of. I realized how horribly she could hurt Lyle.
"I'm—er—sorry, Harmony, really," I said sincerely, glancing at her with eyes of sympathy. "I didn't realize... So, that's why you and Melody are the way you are, then? Because of the things you saw your father do to Muggles?"
"Oh—no," she replied shortly. "I never knew he was doing anything to Muggles—not until he'd already been taken. There were...other things he did. Things that changed Melody and I...and my mother..."
"Oh—Harmony—you don't have to—"
"It's okay," she replied airily as she placed the book she held on an empty shelf. "I'm not going to talk about it now. I don't want you to feel any worse than you already do... I just...wanted you to understand why Melody is...why she's so numb. Why she's so cruel. There's a lot you don't know, Lainey, but I think she'll tell you...if the time is right..."
∆
Harmony and I ate lunch together out by the garden, though we didn't see Melody and Lyle there. I could only imagine what horrible things she might be doing to him in some torture dungeon, though Harmony seemed completely relaxed about it.
"You don't think she plans to kill my brother, do you?" I asked Harmony as we ate on a picnic table.
"No way—she loves him," Harmony snorted before taking a bite of her sandwich. "She may be able to kill our family owl—which I'm still angry with her for, by the way—but she'd never kill Lyle."
"But—Melody told me she doesn't love anybody," I said in outrage. "When Cedric died—she told me she didn't love anyone because she didn't want to feel pain or something—"
"Melody's full of shite," Harmony interjected. "Now, I can't say she loves me, or you, or even our mother, but she does love Lyle—whether she wants to or not. She doesn't really have a choice in the matter, honestly."
My brow creased as I studied Harmony. Her demeanor was relaxed, her eyes not even leaving the sandwich that she ate.
"What do you mean she doesn't have a choice?" I inquired suspiciously.
Harmony shook her head, finally gazing up at me. "I'm trying to give you hints, Lainey, I really am. I thought you'd know, considering... But then... And then... You read all the time—surely you'd have come across it if no one ever told you..."
"What are you talking about?" I demanded impatiently. "Harmony—explain—"
"Are you almost done eating?" she asked as though I hadn't said a word. "I want to show you Melody's room—she'll be so furious if I do. She's got some weird stuff in there—"
"Harmony—"
"C'mon," the little blue-haired girl prompted as she stood up from the other side of the table. "Let's go have a look at it."
"Are there answers in there?" I questioned, following quickly behind her as we retreated back into the Flemming castle. "Will there be more clues? Or can you simply just explain everything to me so I can stop being confused—"
"What fun is that, Lainey? Honestly, I heard you used to be fun," Harmony joked lightly as we walked through the dark corridor. There was a small door on the right that led to a spiral, stone staircase, which was how we got onto the second floor.
"Who told you that?" I grumbled as we ascended the staircase.
"Fred Weasley—he talks about you all the time," Harmony groaned. "All of the Weasleys do, actually. Well—except Ron. He's too preoccupied with his Hermione obsession..."
I almost smirked at the bitterness that riddled Harmony's face. "You know, I used to fancy Ron too. When I was your age—had a huge crush on him. Until I realized he liked Hermione, that is."
"Oh—I don't really fancy Ron... He's just kinda cute, I guess," she replied ambiguously. "I'm not really too interested in dating or anything. Relationships are...unstable. But—you seem to be doing well with Fred."
"Oh—Fred Weasley? We're just...friends," I replied slowly, heat creeping onto my cheeks. "Just friends. I'm not really interested in dating either, actually... My father's death... I just...can't see myself being happy again."
We were at the top of the staircase now, and Harmony opened the door to the second floor for me. Like the first floor, it was dark and dingy, though there were several corridors, and each was much thinner than the wide first floor corridor.
"I thought the same...when my father..." She paused her thought as we leisurely continued to walk through the hall. "Well—you start to get over the pain...eventually. It's always there, slowly eating away at you. But...you learn to cope..."
"Do you ever...miss your father?"
"No, not at all," she replied simply. "I wasn't sad to see him go to Azkaban—not in the way you're sad that your father's gone. The pain I feel is different than yours, I can tell. You feel grief—remorse—guilt. I feel hate...spite...aggression..."
"You sure?" I said, raising my eyebrows at her. "You seem pretty calm to me."
"That's a choice, Lainey. I could hate life like Melody—I could let the pain consume me, but I don't. You shouldn't either."
When we finally got to Melody's bedroom, the door was slightly ajar, so Harmony simply pushed it open without knocking. We stepped in, and while I'd expected Melody's room to be bare and impersonalized—like her space at Hogwarts—I found that her bedroom was bursting with belongings, the walls plastered in posters. Her dressers were covered with strange jewelry and odd statues of creepy animals and deranged plants and skeletons and skulls and—
And her posters were equally as creepy: some were contorted pictures of nature, while others were grotesque scenes of death. One of the larger ones was just completely black, and the one right above her bed was of the band that had played at the Yule Ball: The Weird Sisters.
"Wow, I never thought Melody would like The Weird Sisters," I marveled, though Harmony didn't get a chance to respond before both of our eyes were averted to Melody's bed, where she and my twin brother were snogging intensely.
"Melody!" Harmony exclaimed, covering her eyes as Melody rapidly pulled her lips away from my brother. They were clothed—thank God—but Melody was lying on top of him, and it was extremely discomforting.
Melody bright green eyes widened when she saw us standing in the doorway, Harmony's face in her arms and my face paralyzed with shock.
"This is so—oh my God—"
Melody quickly sprung off of her bed as she whipped out her wand and aimed it at me. "If you tell anyone, Mudblood—"
"You think I want people to know that my brother has succumbed himself to someone so evil?" I snapped in outrage.
"Hey!" Lyle exclaimed as he jumped off of her bed. "She is not—well she's not—"
I let out a spiteful laugh. "You can't even say it because you know it's not true! Melody is cruel—and you're snogging her!"
"You cannot tell anyone, Mudblood—or I swear—"
"Oh shut up, Melody," I droned as I stomped over toward Lyle. Her wand followed me, though it was shaking in her rage-filled hands. "We are going," I insisted as I grabbed Lyle's arm. "Thanks for having us, Harmony, hope to see you at school. Hope not to see you, Melody."
"Yeah, screw you too, Mudblood," Melody growled as I dragged Lyle out of the bedroom.
"Love you, Mel!" Lyle called as I tugged him into the corridor. I almost thought I heard her say she loved him too, but that just had to be a hallucination...
∆
After returning from the Flemmings (and having a heated argument with Lyle about his life choices), I knew that I'd have to find a job to help support my brothers...and to get my mind off of my father's death. I decided to contact some of the shops in Diagon Alley, and Madam Malkin was the first to agree to give me a job at her robe shop, as well as allow me to lodge there for the remainder of the summer. Before I went to work, however, I paid a visit to my institutionalized mother, for more than one reason...
When I walked into the white-walled care center, the same lady greeted me at the desk as last time, though she didn't have to direct me to the room my mother lived in. As I walked down the corridor, I immediately recognized my mother's door, as well as the man standing outside of it.
"Ah, Lainey," Remus Lupin greeted as I approached him. "I hoped you might come."
"You knew I'd see you here, didn't you?" I asked gently. "You knew my psychicness would see you here, and I'd come."
"Well, I hoped, yes," he replied shortly, trying to force a smile. "You did see a vision, then? Of us being here?"
I nodded once. "It's the only thing I've dreamt about the past few nights. A nice break from the usual nightmares of my father...and Cedric..."
He tilted his head to the side, a deep glimmer of pain swimming in his eyes. "Lainey—"
"Don't—you don't have to say you're sorry," I cut him off hastily. "I've heard enough of that in the past month. Let's just go in and see her—"
"She's sleeping at the moment, I'm afraid," Lupin replied regretfully. "Shall we sit for a bit?"
I pursed my lips, but then complied as we both sat down in the uncomfortable chairs outside of my mother's room. "Am I a Seer, Remus?" I blurted as I looked over at him. "I—I think I made a prophecy—before the third task. I predicted that two people would die—two people that I loved—because of You-Know-Who. I definitely loved my father—not so sure about Cedric—but part of the prophecy came true, for sure. Remus—what am I?"
He sighed, staring pensively at the white wall across the hall. "Well, I believe you had a Seer or two in your ancestry..."
"I did but you didn't?" I questioned, raising my eyebrows at him.
"Ah—well—that's a bit complicated, Lainey—"
"What—was my dad's family magical too? Is Aunt Sara a Banshee? She surely cries like one... How much don't I know about my family history, Remus? What aren't you telling me? Now that my father's dead, don't you think I deserve to know what's going on? I'm not a kid anymore—"
"Well, I don't believe I'm the only one that's been lying, am I?" he questioned, glancing over at me with knowing eyes. "You've Seen more than just your mother's torture, haven't you? You've Seen more than us sitting in this hall—you've Seen more than just the petty little details that come with your ability."
I gritted my teeth, dreading the truth that was about to unfold. "Fine—You-Know-Who talks to me in my head, happy? I saw a vision of him—before he was resurrected. And then when he was...killing my father, he spoke in my mind—more than that—he controlled my mind. He made me drop my wand, fall to my knees—he could have made me do anything. I don't suppose you know anything about that, do you?"
Lupin opened his mouth and closed it about five times before finally responding. "Yes—well—Lainey, I'm afraid that's even more complex than your psychic abilities. Shall we go back to that topic—"
"Just tell me everything, Remus, please," I begged, slumping my tired shoulders. "I'm an adult now—I have to be. You-Know-Who made sure of that when he...you know..."
He let out another sigh before finally giving some real information: "Nothing is for certain—Lainey. We've only been able to give guesses as to what you are, since it's very rare—but we believe your ability is known as Clairvoyance. It's a very broad term, of course, for knowing things that should not be in your conscious awareness. We believe your Clairvoyance is just a stem off of your abilities as a Seer—which you are—because you prophesy—"
"Who is 'we'?" was the only question I could come up with.
"Ah—well, your mother and I researched it when you were young, of course, but then once she... Well, after she ended up here, it was actually Dumbledore and I that continued the research," Lupin explained. "Overall, we believe you have the ability of a Seer, as well as some extra Clairvoyant abilities, such as the ability to sense things that are happening in the present, and things that have happened in the past."
I stared at the wall thoughtfully as I pondered over his words. Of course I knew I could do these things: see the past, present, and future. But it was nice to put a name on it—nice to feel some sense of identity. This was probably what Hermione had wanted to tell me about at the third task.
"What else—what else can I do? Er—what else can Clairvoyants do?"
"There are many things—some can sense auras, read intentions, read minds—though I believe your abilities are most likely limited to visions and prophecies," Lupin explained uncertainly.
"But...it has nothing to do with my connection to You-Know-Who, does it?" I asked. "There's another reason he can control my mind."
Lupin blinked, trying to think of some vague response. "Well, yes, that is true. But—that connection is not something we fully understand yet. We've known about it—Dumbledore and I—though it's unclear how it's happening."
"I'm more interested in why it's happening. Why does You-Know-Who want to control me? What reason does he have to ruin my life?"
"Oh, Lainey, there could be multiple reasons for why he'd want to use you—yet at the same time nothing he does seems logical to a right-minded person. We can only make assumptions and we may never truly know. All we can do now is try our best to protect you and your brothers from what may come."
"Who's going to protect us?" I questioned, my voice weighted with an overwhelming sense of doom.
"Well, if you'd come join the Weasleys and I where we've been staying, you'd see—"
"I already told you that I'm not going there," I snapped. "I don't know what you all are up to, but I just—can't. Madam Malkin gave me a job at her shop—I'm starting there tomorrow. I'll be sending money back to my brothers to help pay for the apartment—I don't know how Garren's going to swing it, especially once the other two start school..."
Lupin's face drooped and his eyes ran deep with regret, but he found that there was nothing he could say.
"C'mon," I urged as I stood up from my seat. "I think Mum's awake."
Lupin's brow furrowed as he got up. "You really Saw that, in a vision?"
"No, I just hear her stirring through the wall—c'mon."
When we entered my mother's room, she was blinking her eyes awake. Each time, they opened wide, as though she were shocked or frightened. She didn't seem to notice us, so we approached her very cautiously. I hadn't seen my mother awake since I was nine years old, roughly five years ago. Her hair had faded to a dull gray, and the lines on her face made her look years older than she actually was.
"H-Hi, Lisa," I greeted awkwardly as I stood by the side of her bed. Lupin was behind me, his hand gently on my shoulder for support.
"Lisa? Who...is Lisa?" my mother asked groggily, as her head pivoted from side to side.
"You're Lisa," Lupin said. "Do you remember anything?"
"Remember...remember..." she muttered, still blinking. Once her eyes finally adjusted, she squinted and slowly drew her attention toward us. I thought her look of confusion might remain, or maybe she'd smile with a hint of recognition, but instead she scrambled madly to get away from us, nearly falling off the other side of the bed.
She opened and closed her mouth frantically, as though she were going to explain her sudden fit of panic, but when sound finally emitted from her mouth, it wasn't words: it was a violent, ear-piercing screech.
I staggered back, holding my head between my hands as I tried to block out the sound of her screams. Lupin grabbed my shoulders and attempted to usher me out of the room just as a horde of nurses came rushing in. They exchanged words—Lupin and the nurses—though I heard none of it. All I could hear was the endless sound of my mother's shrieks: the same ones that she'd produced on the night of her torture.
Once we were out in the hall, Lupin swiftly closed the door behind him, though I could still feel the ringing in my ears—my brain—my heart—
"Lainey, are you all right?" Lupin prompted, looking into my eyes with both hands on my shoulder. "Lainey—she must have just been having a bad day—"
"She was...scared of me!" I croaked, my throat aching with emotion.
Lupin's eyes drooped with sympathy. "Lainey—no—"
"My father's dead—and my mother hates me!" I cried, the tears now clouding my vision. My mother's reaction hit me like a boulder of realization—realization that I'd truly forever lost my parents.
"Lainey—" Lupin began again, but before he could get another word out, I buried my face into his coat, sobbing sloppily as every bad memory and fact flooded my mind.
"Why is this happening, Remus? Why?" I moaned, my cracking voice muffled by his jacket.
He didn't have an answer, though; no one had an answer. No one but Voldemort.
The picture is of Lainey and her brothers, Lyle is under her, Evan is to her right, and Garren is in the bottom right corner.