A Defining Moment
Title: A Defining Moment
Author: somigliana
Rating: PG-13
Fandom/Pairing(s): Harry Potter Gen-fic
Warnings: A little torture and use of the eff-word (hehe)
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author’s Notes: A very big thank you to lilian_cho and gelsey for their beta help. You guys are wonderful, especially since my muse seems to be AWOL.
The more you see, the less you know
The less you find out as you go
I knew much more then than I do now
City of Blinding Lights, U2
For a short time, I viewed the grief-stained, sun-drenched day of Dumbledore’s funeral as the most profound turning point in my life.
I left my beloved school and my passion for knowledge to fight an adult’s war. I took a blind leap of faith and embarked on a seemingly impossible quest.
I defied my parents’ wishes that I should finish school. If they had been aware of all the dangerous situations that I had placed myself in during the previous years, I am certain that I would have been yanked from the wizarding world so swiftly that I would barely have had time to breathe.
In joining Harry and Ron, I accepted that I would have to keep secrets from the government and my most respected professor. Although I’ve lied to professors (and Umbridge doesn’t really count though, you know) and kept secrets before, this seemed infinitely more overwhelming.
And finally, in the background, I had the fluttering awareness that my relationship with Ron was finally taking root, after so many years of trying to get his attention.
So, you can understand why that day seemed to be the pinnacle of change and uncertainty. But, despite all the changes I was making, I knew that my decision was right. Sitting next to the lake in the warm sunshine, I knew that what we were doing, despite all the sacrifices we were making, was for the 'greater good'. I had faith that when we accomplished our task, the wizarding and the Muggle worlds would be a better, safer place.
I knew that Voldemort, his Death Eaters, Snape, and Malfoy were evil. Our cause was pure and untarnished. The division was clear in my mind: good wizards against dark wizards. I naively imagined that you were clearly one or the other.
And I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Harry and Ron would always be there for me - ours was a friendship tested over time. We were unbreakable. Whatever the future held, we would always be there for each other. We would be supportive and provide strength where any of us lacked it, seamlessly melding our strengths, so that our individual weaknesses were negated.
We made number twelve, Grimmauld Place our home after a brief stay at Harry’s disgusting relatives. The search for the remaining Horcruxes was more arduous than any of us ever anticipated. The clues were vague and unclear. The longer we searched, the less clear they became. As the time passed, we grew frustrated at our lack of progress and depressed at the signs of the escalating war.
Stupidly, I ignored the warning signs that our side was perhaps not so pure of intention as I had assumed. Perhaps I didn’t want to believe what I had seen. Perhaps I was afraid that it would make my sacrifices seem worthless.
Finding Slytherin’s silver locket brought such euphoria, that I never did question why Harry had been so vague about its location. I never thought to connect it to the discovery of Mundungus Fletcher’s body shortly thereafter. I was engrossed in research tomes primarily, leaving the fieldwork to Harry and Ron. I never imagined that they would be less than honest with me about their activities.
I ignored the hardened edge that crossed Harry’s face more frequently as the time passed. I mistook Ron’s distance for preoccupation. I was always eager to share my research, overlooking that they excluded me more frequently with each passing day.
I should have been horrified when Ron and Harry drank to the discovery of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy’s broken bodies. All I thought of was how marvellous it was that two more evil people were gone from the world.
Finally, the day came when I could no longer ignore that the lines of decency and good had been blurred. I call it the Barty Crouch syndrome-desperate for victory, he used questionable methods and approved the use of Unforgivable Curses during the last war. I never imagined that we would condone such reprehensible tactics. We were better than the evil wizards we fought, after all.
I remember it was a Tuesday, because I always went to the local supermarket on Tuesdays. I spent an hour filling a trolley with basic necessities, and of course, a few luxuries to chase the bleak times away. After shrinking the parcels, I took a leisurely walk back, enjoying the spring air that smelt like sunshine and freshly mown grass. I liked Tuesday afternoons best of all; when I could pretend, if only for an hour, that I was a simple Muggle talking an afternoon stroll.
My relaxation evaporated the moment I opened the door and heard a terrified scream from the direction of the kitchen. I dropped the groceries, fear and dread clawing at my mind. A bottle of vinegar must have shattered; my memory of that day is inexorably entwined with the sharp scent.
My wand unsheathed, I ran to the door. Locked. My brain stalled for a moment before I remembered that I was a witch, and perfectly capable of easily opening a locked door.
"Alohomora." Nothing.
Another desperate scream filtered through the door. I was close enough to hear the accompanying words. "No! Please. Snape and I never went back to Voldemort. We’re working against him too. It’s the truth, I swear to Merlin!"
My mind struggled to reconcile this voice with a face. It was not Harry or Ron. My question was answered, when I heard Harry speak in tones that I’d never heard before. Scarcely able to breathe, I listened, trying to process what I was hearing.
"You fucking liar, Malfoy!" I could hear the fury in his voice. The sound of bone crunching against bone made me cringe, and I heard another muffled cry of pain.
I gasped a little, surprised. Draco Malfoy. We’d been hoping to find him for months. Malfoy’s answer rang with a sense of truth; we’d never seen him or Snape in any of the skirmishes-they seemed to have vanished after Dumbledore’s death.
I couldn’t understand why Harry and Ron were interrogating him in this way, instead of just giving him my carefully brewed Veritaserum.
"Yeah, Ferret! Why should we believe a sodding liar like you?" Scornful disregard etched Ron’s tone. "Crucio!" I could not believe that my lovely Ron used an Unforgivable Curse so casually.
I felt a renewed sense of desperation to get into the kitchen and cast the countercharm to Colloportus, praying to the goddesses that it would work. The door clicked open, and I pushed into the kitchen, stumbling slightly. I looked up and saw Harry and Ron standing over Malfoy. He was tied to one of the kitchen chairs, shuddering and shaking under the debilitating curse. His face was swollen and bruised. Blood dripped from his nose, across his lips and down his neck, running into the collar of his tatty grey jersey. I could see that he wasn’t far from being unconscious.
Harry and Ron turned to the door--Ron’s wand remained trained on Malfoy, but Harry pointed his straight at me. I’d never seen such hatred written on their faces before.
"Take it off," I pleaded, unable to bear Malfoy’s screams and writhing agony.
"No!" Harry screamed at me, the muscles in his neck were corded, and his eyes flashed with icy determination. "He knows where Snape is-I can finally get my hands on the bastard."
He didn’t lower his wand an inch. "Please, Harry," I pleaded, "use my Veritaserum. This is wrong. Crucio is Voldemort’s weapon. We’re better than this."
He didn’t flinch at my recrimination. "He’s had a whole bottle of it already. He’s still insisting that they’re working against Voldemort. He must be immune to the stuff."
"You can’t become immune to Veritaserum, Harry. He must be telling the truth," I said, flinching as Malfoy’s screams intensified.
"Well, you must have fucked it up then," he sneered at me. I could see the uncompromising clench of his jaw and the tick of a muscle in his cheek. I stood, staring slack-jawed at him...
That was the moment. I realised that I didn’t know him anymore. My friend Harry would never have questioned my abilities.
Our side was just as willing as the dark to use any way to win. I was horrified that I had witnessed it for so long, without realising.
What could I have done? Condoned the torture of a young man who was obviously telling the truth to somebody that was unwilling to accept it as such?
Now, my face graces the Daily Prophet, alongside Snape and Malfoy. My crime? Stupefying the Chosen One and my ex-boyfriend, kidnapping a wanted criminal, and disappearing from public sight.
I’m still fighting in the war against Voldemort, now with two unlikely companions. Their methods are also reprehensible, but at least they’re upfront and honest about it. At least I have that to cling to. Honesty can only ever be truth or lies, you see.
I look back on my last day at Hogwarts and try and remember what it felt like to be certain that the world was either shaded in black, or in white. And it seems that the more time passes, the less I can clearly recall.
Author: somigliana
Rating: PG-13
Fandom/Pairing(s): Harry Potter Gen-fic
Warnings: A little torture and use of the eff-word (hehe)
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books, Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author’s Notes: A very big thank you to lilian_cho and gelsey for their beta help. You guys are wonderful, especially since my muse seems to be AWOL.
The more you see, the less you know
The less you find out as you go
I knew much more then than I do now
City of Blinding Lights, U2
For a short time, I viewed the grief-stained, sun-drenched day of Dumbledore’s funeral as the most profound turning point in my life.
I left my beloved school and my passion for knowledge to fight an adult’s war. I took a blind leap of faith and embarked on a seemingly impossible quest.
I defied my parents’ wishes that I should finish school. If they had been aware of all the dangerous situations that I had placed myself in during the previous years, I am certain that I would have been yanked from the wizarding world so swiftly that I would barely have had time to breathe.
In joining Harry and Ron, I accepted that I would have to keep secrets from the government and my most respected professor. Although I’ve lied to professors (and Umbridge doesn’t really count though, you know) and kept secrets before, this seemed infinitely more overwhelming.
And finally, in the background, I had the fluttering awareness that my relationship with Ron was finally taking root, after so many years of trying to get his attention.
So, you can understand why that day seemed to be the pinnacle of change and uncertainty. But, despite all the changes I was making, I knew that my decision was right. Sitting next to the lake in the warm sunshine, I knew that what we were doing, despite all the sacrifices we were making, was for the 'greater good'. I had faith that when we accomplished our task, the wizarding and the Muggle worlds would be a better, safer place.
I knew that Voldemort, his Death Eaters, Snape, and Malfoy were evil. Our cause was pure and untarnished. The division was clear in my mind: good wizards against dark wizards. I naively imagined that you were clearly one or the other.
And I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Harry and Ron would always be there for me - ours was a friendship tested over time. We were unbreakable. Whatever the future held, we would always be there for each other. We would be supportive and provide strength where any of us lacked it, seamlessly melding our strengths, so that our individual weaknesses were negated.
We made number twelve, Grimmauld Place our home after a brief stay at Harry’s disgusting relatives. The search for the remaining Horcruxes was more arduous than any of us ever anticipated. The clues were vague and unclear. The longer we searched, the less clear they became. As the time passed, we grew frustrated at our lack of progress and depressed at the signs of the escalating war.
Stupidly, I ignored the warning signs that our side was perhaps not so pure of intention as I had assumed. Perhaps I didn’t want to believe what I had seen. Perhaps I was afraid that it would make my sacrifices seem worthless.
Finding Slytherin’s silver locket brought such euphoria, that I never did question why Harry had been so vague about its location. I never thought to connect it to the discovery of Mundungus Fletcher’s body shortly thereafter. I was engrossed in research tomes primarily, leaving the fieldwork to Harry and Ron. I never imagined that they would be less than honest with me about their activities.
I ignored the hardened edge that crossed Harry’s face more frequently as the time passed. I mistook Ron’s distance for preoccupation. I was always eager to share my research, overlooking that they excluded me more frequently with each passing day.
I should have been horrified when Ron and Harry drank to the discovery of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy’s broken bodies. All I thought of was how marvellous it was that two more evil people were gone from the world.
Finally, the day came when I could no longer ignore that the lines of decency and good had been blurred. I call it the Barty Crouch syndrome-desperate for victory, he used questionable methods and approved the use of Unforgivable Curses during the last war. I never imagined that we would condone such reprehensible tactics. We were better than the evil wizards we fought, after all.
I remember it was a Tuesday, because I always went to the local supermarket on Tuesdays. I spent an hour filling a trolley with basic necessities, and of course, a few luxuries to chase the bleak times away. After shrinking the parcels, I took a leisurely walk back, enjoying the spring air that smelt like sunshine and freshly mown grass. I liked Tuesday afternoons best of all; when I could pretend, if only for an hour, that I was a simple Muggle talking an afternoon stroll.
My relaxation evaporated the moment I opened the door and heard a terrified scream from the direction of the kitchen. I dropped the groceries, fear and dread clawing at my mind. A bottle of vinegar must have shattered; my memory of that day is inexorably entwined with the sharp scent.
My wand unsheathed, I ran to the door. Locked. My brain stalled for a moment before I remembered that I was a witch, and perfectly capable of easily opening a locked door.
"Alohomora." Nothing.
Another desperate scream filtered through the door. I was close enough to hear the accompanying words. "No! Please. Snape and I never went back to Voldemort. We’re working against him too. It’s the truth, I swear to Merlin!"
My mind struggled to reconcile this voice with a face. It was not Harry or Ron. My question was answered, when I heard Harry speak in tones that I’d never heard before. Scarcely able to breathe, I listened, trying to process what I was hearing.
"You fucking liar, Malfoy!" I could hear the fury in his voice. The sound of bone crunching against bone made me cringe, and I heard another muffled cry of pain.
I gasped a little, surprised. Draco Malfoy. We’d been hoping to find him for months. Malfoy’s answer rang with a sense of truth; we’d never seen him or Snape in any of the skirmishes-they seemed to have vanished after Dumbledore’s death.
I couldn’t understand why Harry and Ron were interrogating him in this way, instead of just giving him my carefully brewed Veritaserum.
"Yeah, Ferret! Why should we believe a sodding liar like you?" Scornful disregard etched Ron’s tone. "Crucio!" I could not believe that my lovely Ron used an Unforgivable Curse so casually.
I felt a renewed sense of desperation to get into the kitchen and cast the countercharm to Colloportus, praying to the goddesses that it would work. The door clicked open, and I pushed into the kitchen, stumbling slightly. I looked up and saw Harry and Ron standing over Malfoy. He was tied to one of the kitchen chairs, shuddering and shaking under the debilitating curse. His face was swollen and bruised. Blood dripped from his nose, across his lips and down his neck, running into the collar of his tatty grey jersey. I could see that he wasn’t far from being unconscious.
Harry and Ron turned to the door--Ron’s wand remained trained on Malfoy, but Harry pointed his straight at me. I’d never seen such hatred written on their faces before.
"Take it off," I pleaded, unable to bear Malfoy’s screams and writhing agony.
"No!" Harry screamed at me, the muscles in his neck were corded, and his eyes flashed with icy determination. "He knows where Snape is-I can finally get my hands on the bastard."
He didn’t lower his wand an inch. "Please, Harry," I pleaded, "use my Veritaserum. This is wrong. Crucio is Voldemort’s weapon. We’re better than this."
He didn’t flinch at my recrimination. "He’s had a whole bottle of it already. He’s still insisting that they’re working against Voldemort. He must be immune to the stuff."
"You can’t become immune to Veritaserum, Harry. He must be telling the truth," I said, flinching as Malfoy’s screams intensified.
"Well, you must have fucked it up then," he sneered at me. I could see the uncompromising clench of his jaw and the tick of a muscle in his cheek. I stood, staring slack-jawed at him...
That was the moment. I realised that I didn’t know him anymore. My friend Harry would never have questioned my abilities.
Our side was just as willing as the dark to use any way to win. I was horrified that I had witnessed it for so long, without realising.
What could I have done? Condoned the torture of a young man who was obviously telling the truth to somebody that was unwilling to accept it as such?
Now, my face graces the Daily Prophet, alongside Snape and Malfoy. My crime? Stupefying the Chosen One and my ex-boyfriend, kidnapping a wanted criminal, and disappearing from public sight.
I’m still fighting in the war against Voldemort, now with two unlikely companions. Their methods are also reprehensible, but at least they’re upfront and honest about it. At least I have that to cling to. Honesty can only ever be truth or lies, you see.
I look back on my last day at Hogwarts and try and remember what it felt like to be certain that the world was either shaded in black, or in white. And it seems that the more time passes, the less I can clearly recall.