CHAPTER SIX:
"A witch?" Rosalie's voice was heavy with disbelief and skepticism.
"Yes," I say, my chin high, meeting her golden-eyed glare. We're sitting at the Cullen's dining room table, and Edward has just filled the rest of the family in for the first time about James's demise- and the leading role I played in it.
It goes without saying that they were very skeptical. I didn't blame them- they hadn't been there, like Edward had, hadn't seen what I'd done. But I calmly met each of their gazes, even Rosalie's, portraying a calm confidence I didn't even know I possessed.
"Alright... say we believe you," Carlisle sounds cautious, "What exactly do your powers entail?"
"Many things," I say, trying not to sound too much like a show-off, yet wanting them to truly understand the capabilities of my powers, of the powers every witch and wizard has. "Much more then what your Gifts can do."
"Such as?" Emmett prompts, looking excited.
"It's hard to really describe the full scope of my magic." I admit, thinking.
"What kind of scope are we talking about?" Jasper asks, his expression sharper then Emmett and Alice's, because he understands the danger, the risk, where all they see is fun and games, unconsciously unable to see a human as a risk, despite the fact I'd destroyed James.
I feel uncomfortable at Jasper's question, and chew on my lip. "An almost exhaustive one. We can cast spells for protection that work like impermeable shields, turn ourselves into animals, create potions that heal skin, flesh and bones, spells and cloaks of invisibility and camouflage. We can turn turtles into teapots, appa-teleport from one location to another, conjure birds from thin air, create objects of wondrous beauty and infinite power..."
I pause, my face growing darker. "I could immobilize you with a flick of my wand, read you minds and wipe your memories." I say, softly. "I could strip a person of their skin and turn them inside out. I could inflict the greatest pain imaginable on someone, without ever leaving a mark on their skin." I close my eyes, feeling sick at my words. "I could turn you into my personal puppet, unable to fight against a single command but aware of every action. And I can kill with only a pair of words, and from that there would be no escape."
Silence follows my speech, and I wipe at my damp eyes with the back of my sleeve. "Our power is a blessing, our magic a gift." I say quietly. "It gives us abilities most could never even dream of. But it is gifted to the good and the bad, and for every good spell there is an evil one to match."
The room is deathly quiet. I focus my gaze on my hands, not wanting to see the expressions on my vampire family's faces.
"Well," breathes Carlisle, finally, "do I dare ask for a demonstration after that?"
-
-
I bury Griselda in the back garden, and with her I bury not my memories of Edward, but the part of me that had been unable to let him go, that had left me crippled with what had felt to be an all-consuming depression.
It's not hard to decipher the message, or to guess who it's from- Victoria is angry. Beyond angry- the phrase 'murderous rage' comes to mind. And I don't have time anymore to be distracted by my mourning. Keeping my eyes open for a dangerous, furious vampire hell-bent on retribution will be a full time job, because when she finds out the Cullens have left, it's not going to be gifts in the mail out of fear of getting too close- no, it's going to be bloody open season on the human.
-
I don't return to school for the remainder of the week, and instead spend my time pouring over every book I have that mentions vampires or warding. I want to put up a ward to keep Victoria away from my house, but none of my books have the information I need, and I only manage to set up a ward that feeds suggestions to the mind of anyone with malicious intent that there's something else they want to try and do before breaking into my house.
It's a weak ward, and won't hold off anyone with a certain degree of determination, and I search my history books for a mention of a wizarding village or shopping district here in America, but don't succeed in finding any. I know they have to exist, but they'll be as well hidden as Diagon Alley and I want to pull my hair out in my intense frustration.
Victoria is after me, and I'm getting nowhere trying to figure out how to stop her.
-
After my week off school, going back in again is... strange. And difficult. As the weeks start to trickle by, I find myself sitting in the library at lunchtimes, like I did before Edward. Before I fell in love. Before he left me.
Angela sometimes joins me. She's a sweet person, and so kind. She doesn't try to talk to me about the Cullens, not like some of the other students try, instead we talk about school, and about my time in Britain, and even about our families.
Angela has twin younger brothers, Isaac and Isaiah, and she has countless funny stories about them that I gradually start to genuinely enjoy listening to.
It's three weeks after I've returned to school that Angela invites me over to her house for a sleepover. I agree, because when I mention it to Charlie I see the hope in his tired eyes.
Friday afternoon, after school, Angela drives us to her place. It's a nice house, two stories with white washboard walls and a dark blue roof. It's right next to the church, and Angela's dad is the pastor.
Mrs. Weber is warm and welcoming to me. She baked a casserole for dinner, and the Webers all sat down together to eat as a family. It reminded me a bit of eating with the Weasleys, the only other big family I knew (other then the one I did not think about) and that made me feel lighter just on principle.
It was later, when Angela and I were making our way up to her room after watching a movie together, when it happens. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the people in one of the photographs hanging up on the walls are moving.
I freeze, spinning in place and closing the distance between myself and the photograph in three quick steps. It's one of a younger Mrs. Weber with her family, and it's definitely a wizarding photograph, the inhabitants smiling and waving. Angela gasps, and I turn to face my wide-eyed friend.
"You're a witch?" she asks, incredulously, and I have my wand out and pointed at her in an instant. My heart's racing in my chest, and my palms are damp with sweat. Angela hurriedly raises her hands in the universal gesture of surrender. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry- I was just surprised," she babbles, nervously, "I- my mom's a squib- that's her family. The photo's warded so that non-magicals can't see it move."
"You're not blood purists?" I ask, cautiously, and she shakes her head hurridley.
"Oh lord no," she assures me, "I'm not a witch, and dad's a muggle- out of all of us, only the twins show any signs of being magical." I exhale, and slowly lower my wand.
"Sorry about that," I apologize, blushing slightly as I realise just how rude practically threatening my host with a potentially deadly weapon is. "It's just..." I hesitate, wondering how to put in words the fear that's always constantly lurking under my skin. Angela catches on before I even need to.
"Oh my god!" she says, hand covering her mouth, her eyes widening in horror, almost comically huge behind her glasses. "You- you went to school in Britain! Oh, you didn't go to Hogwarts, did you?" I shift slightly, uneasily and nod. Her eyes widen impossibly further. "But- is it true- is he really in charge? He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" she breathes.
"Yeah," I whisper, unable to help my shudder. "Yeah, H-He is "
"Oh you poor thing!" Angela gasps, closing the distance between us and wrapping her arms around me and squeezing fiercely. I freeze for a few moments before hugging her back. "What's it like?" she asks quietly, her lips near my ear, and my voice cracks as I answer her.
"Horrible. I don't know whether my best friend is alive or dead, and I had to escape because I'm a Muggleborn and horrible things are happening to Muggleborns, and I don't know what's going on because I'm in hiding!"
I don't fully realize I'm crying until Angela pulls back to hand me a tissue from her pocket.
"I'm so sorry," she says, and I give a choked laugh.
"Not as sorry as me." I use the tissue to blow my nose, and wipe my eyes with the back of my sleeve.
"Is- is there anything I can do?" Angela asks, hesitantly. I'm about to shake my head when I realize-
"Wait, does your mom know where any wizarding shopping districts are?" I ask urgently, and Angela nods.
"Of course! She takes us to one a few times a year- it's called Morte Alley and it's an amazing place," Angela's eyes shine as she talks about it. "Here, we can go talk to mum now," she says, gently grasping my hand and leading the way to the master bedroom. She knocks on the door. "Mom?" she calls, softly, "can I talk to you?"
"Are you alright, Angel?" Mrs. Weber asks, her voice sounding concerned, and she exits the room a moment later, still tying her bathrobe as she does so. She then stills as she spots the wand in my hand, her eyes widening. "You're a witch?" she asks, sounding shocked.
"She escaped from Britain, mom," Angela tells her, and Mrs. Weber's eyes widen further- I can see where Angela got her habit from, I think.
"Oh, you poor dear," Mrs. Weber says, a compassionate look on her face, "I'm so glad you managed to get out of there safely." I give her a weak sort of smile.
"Yeah, I am too." She lets out a sweet laugh, though her eyes are very sad.
"You must be a muggleborn," she says, and I nod.
"Yes." I say, quietly. She closes her eyes, face pained, then opens them again.
"Do you know how things are going over there?" she asks quietly, and I shake my head.
"All I know is what I can get off Potterwatch." I admit. "It's an illegal radio station, run by some people I know from school."
"Ah, Harry Potter," Mrs. Weber smiles slightly, "such a brave boy. We know all about him, even here in the United States. I daresay the whole Wizarding World knows about him."
"He's a nice person." I say, quietly, "and I think he can win this war for us." Mrs. Weber reaches forwards and squeezes my shoulder.
"I'm praying for him," she says, seriously, and I smile tiredly.
"I think we all are, Mrs. Weber."
"Mom," Angela speaks up, quietly, "Bella was wondering if you could take her to Morte Alley."
"I need to pick up some books," I explain to her, "and some... other things."
"Other things?" Mrs. Weber raises a thin eyebrow.
"Defenses against vampires," I admit, "there's one after me." Mrs. Weber and Angela both give me incredulous looks.
"How on earth did that happen?" Mrs. Weber asks.
"Er, you remember Edward?" I say, trying to ignore the ache in my chest that his name brings. My eyes burn and I blink a few times, determined not to cry.
"I thought the Cullens were animal drinkers?" Mrs. Weber frowns. I'm surprised for a moment that she knows what the Cullens are, but shake it away. I shouldn't be surprised, really- she is from a wizarding family.
"They are," I explain, "but they destroyed a vampire who was trying to kill me, and now that vampire's mate wants to kill me in revenge. You know- a mate for a mate."
"That," Mrs. Weber says, after a long pause, "is very unfortunate." I let out a bleak laugh.
"Tell me about it."
"Well," Mrs. Weber says, thoughtfully, "it looks like we've got a shopping trip to prepare for."
-
When morning comes, Mrs. Weber produces a Portkey for us, having written to one of her brothers last night requesting one, and the Weber family owl- Atlas- flew back with it this morning.
As we arrive, it's easy to see that Morte Alley, although much smaller then Diagon or Knockturn Alley, is far more modern. In Britain, the Alleys were all similar; olde style buildings, wizards and witches in robes, everything just a little bit dusty or odd to give it that 'genuine antique' feel.
Morte Alley, however, reminded me of Muggle shopping centers. All the shops were clean and all the people were in normal clothes- jeans were everywhere and there wasn't one pointy hat in sight.
"Is that an electronics shop?" I ask, surprised, at the sight of one of the closer shops. "I thought that muggle technology doesn't work in places with high concentrations of magic!"
"Britain," Mrs. Weber said, an amused smile on her face, "is quite behind America in some ways. There are various spells and runes that can be used to ensure that magic doesn't fry the electronics."
"Wow," I mumble, wide eyed.
"You can even use credit cards," Mrs. Weber says, cheerfully.
"I think I'm in heaven." I say happily.
My immediate stop is a bookshop to buy several different books, both about vampires and about warding, before doing a little browsing.
Mrs. Weber and Angela meet me where we arrived, and we all Portkey back to Forks.
"Did you get everything you needed?" Mrs. Weber asks, and I nod.
"I did, thank you." I say, and she smiles.
"Did you know, Bella," she says, conversationally, "that the Hogwarts Magical Birth Register is the only means in Britain of definitively noting the birth of witches and wizards born who are eligible to attend Hogwarts? The Ministry has no way of knowing themselves when a magical person is born, let alone who they are and who their parents are."
"That's... fairly stupid." I blink, surprised. "How does the Ministry know who they are supposed to be, you know, ministering over?"
"You register when you come of age. You need it to get your Apparition license. The British Ministry is really only concerned about those witches and wizards who can vote, and it's a method to note the Muggleborns who aren't born in the Wizarding system anyway. I frown.
"That sounds extremely inefficient."
"It means, though, faking an identity is a lot simpler because of the British Ministry's incompetence. Have you heard of the Secunda Nomine spell?"
"Er, not really." I admit.
"Secunda Nomine is a ritual used to give oneself another name, secondary to your own. I spoke to my father, he's a wizarding lawyer, about your situation in my letter yesterday- he suggested it. It lets you be two people at once." Mrs. Weber explained.
"How does it work?" I ask, curiously.
"Blood magic, mainly, and a little spellwork. It's technically illegal, but most rituals of its age and type are, regardless of what they do or if they are even known about. There are spells to legally change one's name, but using them won't completely hide who you were before. Secunda Nomine doesn't permanently give you a new name, it gives you a second one."
"Legal is overrated," I say, very eager to hear more about the spell, "so the ritual?" I prompted, and Mrs. Weber smiled.
"Like I said, it doesn't change a name, it just conceals it. Identity spells or methods such as verbal interrogations with truth serums will give out the assumed name, rather than the original. You control when and where it is perceived. It's a disguise."
"How can I do this?" I asked.
"You need another person," Mrs. Weber explained, "another witch or wizard. If you're open to it, I'm
sure my father or one of my brothers can help."
"Yes please," I say, nodding eagerly, "thank you so much!" Mrs. Weber smiled.
"Anytime, Bella, sweetheart."
-
After promising to write to her family, Mrs. Weber drove me home, and I made my way up to my bedroom with my new purchases.
Things are changing. I've got access to a Wizarding town. I can use magic. I'm not helpless.
Victoria's got a nasty surprise coming her way.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed it. Comment/vote <3