The Silent and the Damned, for Alex
Title:The Silent and the Damned
For:Alex/welshdevondragon
Characters/Pairings:Tracey Davis, Neville Longbottom, Amycus Carrow, with brief appearances by Seamus Finnigan, Severus Snape, Voldemort, Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, and random faceless masses of Hogwarts
Rating:6th/7th Years
Warnings:Abuse, Sexual Assault, Strong Profanity, Violence
A/N:First off, thanks go out to my ninja beta, Lea/leamarauder for dealing with my procrastination so well.
So, I ended up using only a couple of your prompts, but what I did draw off of from your request was a Slytherin main character, a bit of angst, and the song City with No Children by Arctic Fire. It seemed perfect for the subject matter. In fact, the subject matter was inspired by the song. With that being said, I hope you enjoy the story.
* Dialogue was taken directly from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and are completely the property of J.K. Rowling and not myself.
I. When you're hiding underground, the rain can't get you wet.
I should’ve known that this year was going to be different. Professor Dumbledore’s death and the common knowledge that it had been Professor Snape, my own Head of House, made certain of that. But I don’t know if I was prepared for just how much everything had changed. Times were crazy; times were dangerous. So, naturally, I did what any sane Slytherin girl would do: I stayed out of the way and did as I was told.
But then… then, I didn’t know him.
II. But do you think your righteousness could pay the interest on your debt? I have my doubts about it.
Rounds were hell and had been nearly all year. One of the few things the Professors Carrow didn’t have their hand in was the prefect patrol schedule, which was left to the Head Boy and Head Girl. Pansy Parkinson couldn’t be bothered to take the time to do it save for her own, but the Head Boy, Ernie Macmillan, had become increasingly vicious as time passed in arranging for me to spend every night out walking by the Dark Arts office and listen to the sounds of terror coursing through the corridor. Sometimes, it was spell-induced; sometimes, it was violence of a baser sort. All I needed to know is when the unfortunate student would be coming out so I could manage not to be there when they did.
However, that nasty business with the supposed Support Harry Potter party was bound to garner a lot more wrath from Professor Carrow, and I was not wrong on this assumption. Hagrid was gone entirely before he could be apprehended for his role in hosting it, but the students who attended weren’t so quick. Parvati Patil had already seen the business end of Alecto’s wand, just as Michael Corner and Terry Boot were worked over by Amycus. Only one more remained locked in the broom cupboard-come-holding cell outside the Dark Arts classroom. I hadn’t seen who it was, but judging by the past visitors to that little hole in the wall, there were precious few who would ever dare try a stunt like publicly supporting Undesirable Number One.
Professor Carrow must’ve been very, very annoyed. Cries of agony sounded through the whole hallway and even up the stairs as I tried to steer clear of the whole area. There was no escaping it this time, though. I lost track of time, but it had to had to have been over an hour, listening to something akin to being eaten alive by dragons.
When the sound stopped, I ventured back downstairs to make sure Professor Carrow saw me doing my duty right and proper. I was just walking by the Dark Arts room as he roughly shoved his victim, who ended up being Seamus Finnigan, out onto the stones. “Maybe that’ll make you think next time you and your gang of delinquents want to cause trouble.”
I’m fairly certain Finnigan didn’t hear any of that, as he was curled into a shaking lump on the floor, his eyes squeezed shut for all he was worth. I fought the urge to vomit. Violence was never something I could bring myself to look at, let alone inflict. Finnigan looked like a quaking child there in front of me. Even in my wildest imaginings, I couldn’t have brought him this low, which was likely why my Dark Arts score was hovering dangerously close to Troll. Just the sight of it made me forget that Professor Carrow was watching me stare.
“That’s how it’s done, Davis,” he said. “Though I suppose you just don’t have the stomach for it.” When I blanched, he laughed at my paleness. “Didn’t think so.”
To punctuate his point, he landed a heavy kick into Finnigan’s ribs, lips twitching at the long, pathetic moan that it elicited. He then made a shooing gesture and said, “Move along. Lesson’s over.” Without bothering to find help for the shaking mass of humanity at his feet, he nonchalantly returned to his office.
I desperately wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. Aiding students who had been freshly ‘disciplined’ was forbidden, I knew that, but I had to. Who knew how long it would be before he was either able to leave under his own power or someone else found him? So I did the one thing that I had dedicated myself to not doing all year long - I helped him up.
My knees nearly buckled under his weight, as he had a few stone on me, but I ignored my screaming joints and kept hobbling with him. There was an unused classroom out of earshot of anyone named Carrow where I could take him, at least long enough for him to make the rest of the way on his own. If I ever get there, I thought as I was dangerously close to dropping him and just making things worse.
That was, however, before I felt Finnigan being quickly pulled away from me. When I looked up to see who had relieved me of my burden, I was shocked to see Neville Longbottom. He had not been spotted for almost two weeks after the Carrows decided that he was more trouble than he was worth. I wasn’t expecting the scathing expression he gave me as he took over the task. However, the jostling only served to make Finnigan even more miserable. I could have left it be; I could have went on my way and forgot I saw anything, but I couldn’t do it.
“Stop it!” I hissed. “You’re hurting him.”
“Like you care,” Longbottom said without so much as a glance in my direction. “You’re no better than Crabbe and Goyle.”
Whether it was my borderline queasiness from seeing the product of violence up close or anger at Longbottom’s presumption that I was cut from the same cloth as a pair of slow-witted Neanderthals, I wasn’t sure. But he was not going to make me out to be the villain. Shooting him my best glare, I slid my arm under Finnigan’s and pointed down the corridor. “This way.”
Though I could see the distrust clearly in his face, Longbottom complied. With both our efforts, we were soon able to situate Finnigan on the floor of a classroom that hadn’t been used since Professor Lupin had converted it to a menagerie. As soon as we were inside, I closed the door quietly and cast a Locking Charm. It was then and only then, when I was sure we wouldn’t be found or disturbed, that I started applying Healing Spells on whatever visible wounds Finnigan had, as well as to his more than likely broken ribs.
Finally, when I did all I could, I looked up. It was startling to see Longbottom staring at me, but he was just the same. Not able to think of what to say, I simply quipped, “What are you looking at, Longbottom?”
Before he could answer, Finnigan groaned loudly and sat up. “Fucking Carrow. One of these days, he’s going to get my boot up his arse”
At that statement, Longbottom glanced at Finnigan in surprise. I knew exactly what that meant, and I had to hold off the snide smile that threatened to form on my face. Served him right for assuming that I’d done it. And with Longbottom properly disabused of this ridiculous notion, I decided that it was a fortuitous time for me to be elsewhere - mainly, nowhere near these two. They were quite familiar with the punishment for crossing the Head Disciplinarian.
But as my hand touched the door latch, Longbottom’s voice stopped me. “Davis!”
I stopped but didn’t turn around. “Carrow likes to climb into a bottle after he’s had his fun. You should be safe to leave for at least the next half hour.” And then I left. On my way out, though, I could’ve sworn I heard him thank me, but surely, that could not be.
III. I used to think I was not like them, but I'm beginning to have my doubts about it.
News of Potter’s heist at Gringotts didn’t take long to spread through the school, even if hardly anyone actually believed it at the time. It wasn’t difficult to figure out that, with this piece of information, there would be certain consequences. We saw the number of Death Eaters lurking about the grounds double, and students were confined to common rooms if not going to or from class. But more than that, it made Amycus Carrow a very angry man.
Only a fool would’ve crossed him, and, well… I suppose I wasn’t half as smart as I thought I was. And being seen the night before, even though to his knowledge I hadn’t done anything, didn’t help me in the slightest when I found myself called to the Dark Arts office after class.
He paced around me, and I couldn’t help but feel like I was wounded prey, waiting for a carrion bird to tear into my flesh. The only people in the whole school that looked forward to after-class visits with Carrow were Crabbe and Goyle. For the rest of us, it was a guaranteed unpleasant experience. This was no exception. I didn’t flinch as he stopped at my side and leant in toward me
“NEWTs are getting close, Miss Davis,” he said softly next to my ear. “Your marks in my class are… disappointing, especially considering your prefect status. I would really like to see the matter remedied before it’s too late.”
An involuntary shiver was the only answer I could manage. I knew what he wanted. Less than twenty-hour hours before, I might even have given in to him. Gryffindor foolhardiness was a trait I neither possessed nor desired, but a streak of defiance in me gave me the power to stutter one damning syllable. “N-no.”
I hadn’t quite expected him to laugh at me, but he did. It was still preferable to a beating, torture, or other things. However, my ill-advised bravado slammed to a halt when he spoke again. “I saw you last night, Davis, helping Finnigan.”
Illness threatened in my gut as his words sunk in. Trouble didn’t begin to describe what lay in wait for me as I instinctually took a step away from him, which I quickly learned was a mistake. The back of his hand landed hard on my cheek, and I started to taste blood as I fell to the floor. Never in my life had I felt such pain, which was not dulled by the knowledge that there was plenty more where that came from. I can’t rightly remember much of what happened when the spell hit me - only agony. Was I screaming? Probably. All there was in the whole wide universe was a venomous burn in every last fibre of my being. Nerves that I hadn’t even known existed screeched along with my lungs as my body shook with the force of the curse.
And then it was over. I stayed on the flagstones, shuddering from head to toe, wishing he would just do what he wanted or just kill me. Either way, it would’ve been better for him to get on with it. Even though my instincts begged me to run and hide, I wasn’t that stupid. No matter where I went, he would find me and finish what he started and then some. Nevertheless, I knew better than to say no to him again.
Yet, I did. Maybe I was that stupid.
“Get up!” he roared. “Off your knees, Davis! So weak… you’re an embarrassment to your house.” He grabbed me by my hair and wrenched me to my feet, but I did not cry out. He wanted me to, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. I wasn’t weak because I didn’t feel the need to torture my schoolmates, and I sure as hell wasn’t weak for helping one of them out. My anger gave me far more courage than it should’ve done.
Giving Carrow the most withering look I could muster, I hissed, “Go to hell.”
This time, I saw his hand in time to dodge it. I made a break for the door, but his wand moved far more quickly than my legs. The Impediment Jinx stopped me cold in my tracks, and soon I felt myself thrown on top of his desk. I lay there, lest he do me worse injury than he was already going to, hoping acquiescence would make this nightmare end sooner rather than later. Tears picked my eyelids, and I wanted nothing more than to bawl like a small child. But I did not, instead biting my lip and closing my eyes. Soon, I felt his hand slide up my robes.
That was, however, as far as he got. A throat cleared in the background, and his loathsome touch disappeared. I lolled my head to the side to see who had just stopped my attack, and never in my life had I been so glad to see my former Head of House.
“Snape,” Carrow acknowledged. “What brings you here?”
“If I could divert your attention for a few minutes,” Snape said, “There are important matters to discuss.” He gave me the most fleeting of glances before adding, “Miss Davis, you are excused.”
My gaze directed squarely at the floor, I stumbled from the tiny office as fast as my still traumatised muscles could take me. How I ever thought I’d actually make it all the way down four flights of stairs, I have no idea, but I never did. I could merely manage to hug the bannister long enough to make it halfway down the first one before my legs gave out on me. This time, instead of trying to get back up, I hugged my knees to my chest and sobbed.
I never expected the hand that touched my shoulder, and I definitely hadn’t thought that it would belong to Longbottom. “Tracey?” he said softly. “Are you all right?”
Looking up at him, eyes watering like mad, I managed to shake my head before staring straight in front of me at nothing in particular. I couldn’t tell him - or anyone, for that matter - what had nearly happened in Carrow’s office. The torture didn’t matter, because he did that to nearly everyone, but the thought of the rest made my stomach heave. If Longbottom had any idea, he didn’t say so, instead sitting next to me and assuming a similar pose.
“Padma told me that Carrow made you stay after class. It… it only seemed right to check on you.”
I nodded numbly before saying, “He knew I helped you and Finnigan. He pretended like it was because of my marks, but…” Finishing that thought was out of the question.
“That explains why Seamus got worked over again this morning. Carrow must’ve felt cheated.”
A pang of guilt hit me, as I was likely the cause of Finnigan’s second bout of suffering in less than a day, but it was quickly replaced by anger. Before that day, I had never been on the wrong side of the rules and had always done as I was told, but because of Longbottom and his cohorts, I’d been tortured and nearly assaulted in the worst way possible. But even as I look back now, I can’t say for sure whether I wouldn’t have done it all again. The reasons, though, weren’t what you might think.
Longbottom slipped his arm around my shoulders and helped me stand. “Let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey.”
“No,” I said, happy for his assistance. “I… I just want to lay down a bit. I’ll be all right.”
“The dungeons, then,” he said as he gave me a crooked smile of reassurance.
“Won’t you get caught?”
“Maybe. But I’m not just going to leave you here.”
It was odd, but I think we gained each other’s respect at that moment. It made me realise that none of my housemates would’ve helped Finnigan, nor would they have offered to take me to the hospital wing or wherever I wanted to go. I had often thought the propensity to always ‘do the right thing’ was one of Gryffindor’s more obnoxious traits, but just then, I was finding it hard to dislike. Granted, Slytherin had solidarity and loyalty in spades, but it was often conditional and subject to manipulation. That was why I would’ve done it all again. Not because it was moral, but because it made me imagine myself to be better than I ever had been.
IV. I wish that I could have loved you then, before our age was through. And before a world war does with us whatever it will do.
We should’ve known that the war couldn’t stay off the Hogwarts grounds for long, but I don’t think anyone thought so many things would happen at once. Before the buzz about the Gringotts escapade had even died down, we were shuffled into the Great Hall when most of us would’ve been in our beds, listening to Professor McGonagall as she directed a mass evacuation of the school. By then, everyone knew that this was it. I could see Harry Potter at the Gryffindor table, and only one thing could’ve brought the most wanted man in the country out in the open, and that was a final confrontation with You-Know-Who.
I was glad to be leaving. We were children, and children didn’t belong in the midst of a giant clash. Whether I liked them or not, I wanted to see every single student in the school far, far away before the fighting started. However, that all changed in an instant when Ernie Macmillan stood in front of everybody and asked the question that I had thought no one would ask: *“And what if we want to stay and fight?”
Until that moment, joining the fray had not even occurred to me. Would I stay? Could I stay? Would I be killed quickly if I did, or would I be able to hold my own? I even asked myself whether Longbottom was going to stay, only to dismiss it as a stupid question. Of course he would. He braved exposure to Carrow in order to make sure I was okay, so naturally, he would fight to his last breath. It made me want to do so, as well. At least until the most terrifying voice I’d ever heard overtook everything and everyone. I covered my ears, but it was useless; that voice was all-reaching.
*“I know that you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood.”
My head started to spin at the ensuing silence as I came to the same conclusion that everyone else had: You-Know-Who was there, and I had never been so damned frightened in my life. Not even Carrow could have made me want to run and hide more than I did at that moment. Judging by the looks of stark terror in many of those around me, I wasn’t alone in this regard. But he was not done with us yet.
*“Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you shall be rewarded. You have until midnight.”
One person. One person in exchange for an entire school. It made so very much sense to my petrified brain, since Potter seemed quite willing to pop off and fight. One person, and it was all over. We could go back to bed, back to our lessons on Monday, back to revising furiously for our NEWTs, back to all things familiar. To give up Potter seemed like the most natural thing in the world.
When Pansy stood and said, *“But he’s there! Potter’s there! Someone grab him!” it was as if she was saying exactly what I was thinking. I hadn’t expected everyone not sitting at the Slytherin table to turn and look at her like she had asked them to go in Potter’s stead. There were so many borderline murderous stares directed at not only Pansy, but anyone around her, including me. I was gobsmacked.
And when McGonagall sneered at Pansy before directing us all to leave first, I couldn’t move. Daphne Greengrass grabbed my arm and hissed, “Come on!” before hauling me along with her. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the contemptuous faces of the rest of the school, which made quite a few things so startlingly clear. It didn’t matter how I felt or what I believed; every single one of them believed that I was against them. If I stayed to fight for the school, I would more than likely be attacked by my classmates merely because of the crest on my robes.
With this knowledge, I removed myself from Daphne’s grip and calmly followed the only people in the whole castle who might’ve understood my newfound wisdom. But as I have already mentioned, little over a day ago, I would never have even considered the alternative, yet I felt it wriggle its way into my brain as soon as we queued to follow Filch to some unknown location. That doubt stilled my feet, and I watched droves of students walk by me. Moments ago, I had been certain that I wanted to leave, yet as I did so, I recalled the resolution that I had made just that morning, that I was different. I was not like my housemates and didn’t want to be, and I didn’t belong in Slytherin. I could have laughed then and there at my naïveté.
Before I could reflect further, hands spun me around, turned my back on those who were fleeing. I should’ve known that it would be him. “Tracey.”
“Longbottom,” I said as firmly as I could.
“Stay. Stay and fight with us.”
My pulse tripped over itself, and I looked away. He wasn’t bothering with any of the other Slytherins, and neither was anyone else… just me. I didn’t know what to say or whether I could even say it if I did. Instead, my jaw dropped, and I started, “I…” before trailing off.
His hands cupped my cheeks and he angled my face so that I was looking him in the eye. “Carrow and his lot need to pay for what they’ve done, for what he did to you.” The memory of that morning sent a frigid shiver through me, to which he replied, “I know what he tried to do to you.”
Shame and embarrassment withered away my self-control. I bit my lip and closed my eyes to keep what was left of my composure, as well as to shut him out. I didn’t deserve his sympathy, nor did I want it. “It’s not that simple,” I finally said.
I felt his thumb gently stroke my bottom lip, and my breath quickened on its own accord in response to his touch. I needed to back away, to distance myself from that temptation to say yes to whatever he wanted of me, from that subtle manipulation. But I could not. That he cared enough about me at all to cajole me into staying for the battle froze my limbs and my common sense.
“You’re brave as hell, you know that?” he said suddenly, jarring me from the trance that he himself had induced. I finally opened my eyes, and I saw something akin to admiration on his face. But before I could process it or even ask him what he was talking about, his lips found mine and lingered. It was not at all how I imagined my first kiss would be.
When his mouth parted ways with mine, I couldn’t think. Or, rather, I didn’t want to. That would imply that I had two choices, whereas a minute ago, there had only been one. If I even tried to speak, I’m not sure whether I would’ve asked him to let me go or begged him to kiss me again. So I dared not, lest my choice be made for me before I could think it through.
He wasn’t done appealing to me, though. “You’re not like them. You’re better than that. If you leave now, no one will know you like I do.”
Naturally, he was right, but more than that, my mind reactivated itself and began to think again. What was it that I truly wanted? What did I truly fear? What would happen to me in either situation? But these questions were far too simple for me to answer. “I can’t.”
At his crestfallen expression, I felt that I obliged to let him know why his faith in my goodness was ill-placed. “Neville,” I started, his given name foreign yet comfortable on my tongue. “You’re right; I’m not like them. But I’m not like you either. If I stay, how many people do you really think will assume I’m fighting against You-Know-Who?”
When he didn’t answer, I decided it was a point taken and went on. “If I leave, yes, I’ll be shunned and mocked, but that happens to people in my house every day. But if I fight and live and we lose, who knows how long it will take for Carrow to finish what he started?” I had to fight off a wave of nausea at that very thought, but it had to be said, if only so he would stop looking at me like he was.
He stared into my eyes for what felt like forever before dropping his hands and taking a step back. I wanted to reach out and bring him back, to will him to understand, but we were never as different as we were right then. If only I had it in me to say ‘damn the consequences’ and mean it, but I didn’t and probably never could. That understanding of ours, that respect, would be gone soon if it wasn’t already, and I definitely was not ‘brave as hell’.
But I had the courage to do one more thing. Standing on the tips of my toes, I surprised him with a kiss as he had done to me. I smiled sadly against his lips before slowly backing away from him and in the direction of the now-thinned crowd of evacuees. “I’m sorry,” I mouthed, unable to force enough air from my chest to make any sound come out.
And I truly was sorry. I was sorry he put any sort of faith in me, sorry that I wasn’t strong enough to live up to it, sorry that what was likely the last time I would see him had to leave a bitter, salty taste in my mouth.
V. But do you think your righteousness could pay the interest on your debt?
So now I wait in the vacant Hog’s Head, long after my classmates have all either gone home or stayed for the battle. I wait for the outcome. I wait for him, hoping that what makes him good isn’t destroyed by curse or by sword, hoping that, if he ever does think of me after the moment I left him in the entry hall, that he does so more kindly than I look upon myself at this very moment.
For I am a coward, no matter what he said. Several times, I have stood and walked back toward that portrait, knowing that I can go back and fight by his side like he wanted me to. Yet I sit back down and stare at the girl who hid a century of secrets. The old man had already left to join the battle, but even his company would be preferable to this wicked, accusing silence as I pray to myself that Neville Longbottom might live long enough to hate me forever.
For:Alex/welshdevondragon
Characters/Pairings:Tracey Davis, Neville Longbottom, Amycus Carrow, with brief appearances by Seamus Finnigan, Severus Snape, Voldemort, Pansy Parkinson, Daphne Greengrass, and random faceless masses of Hogwarts
Rating:6th/7th Years
Warnings:Abuse, Sexual Assault, Strong Profanity, Violence
A/N:First off, thanks go out to my ninja beta, Lea/leamarauder for dealing with my procrastination so well.
So, I ended up using only a couple of your prompts, but what I did draw off of from your request was a Slytherin main character, a bit of angst, and the song City with No Children by Arctic Fire. It seemed perfect for the subject matter. In fact, the subject matter was inspired by the song. With that being said, I hope you enjoy the story.
* Dialogue was taken directly from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and are completely the property of J.K. Rowling and not myself.
I. When you're hiding underground, the rain can't get you wet.
I should’ve known that this year was going to be different. Professor Dumbledore’s death and the common knowledge that it had been Professor Snape, my own Head of House, made certain of that. But I don’t know if I was prepared for just how much everything had changed. Times were crazy; times were dangerous. So, naturally, I did what any sane Slytherin girl would do: I stayed out of the way and did as I was told.
But then… then, I didn’t know him.
II. But do you think your righteousness could pay the interest on your debt? I have my doubts about it.
Rounds were hell and had been nearly all year. One of the few things the Professors Carrow didn’t have their hand in was the prefect patrol schedule, which was left to the Head Boy and Head Girl. Pansy Parkinson couldn’t be bothered to take the time to do it save for her own, but the Head Boy, Ernie Macmillan, had become increasingly vicious as time passed in arranging for me to spend every night out walking by the Dark Arts office and listen to the sounds of terror coursing through the corridor. Sometimes, it was spell-induced; sometimes, it was violence of a baser sort. All I needed to know is when the unfortunate student would be coming out so I could manage not to be there when they did.
However, that nasty business with the supposed Support Harry Potter party was bound to garner a lot more wrath from Professor Carrow, and I was not wrong on this assumption. Hagrid was gone entirely before he could be apprehended for his role in hosting it, but the students who attended weren’t so quick. Parvati Patil had already seen the business end of Alecto’s wand, just as Michael Corner and Terry Boot were worked over by Amycus. Only one more remained locked in the broom cupboard-come-holding cell outside the Dark Arts classroom. I hadn’t seen who it was, but judging by the past visitors to that little hole in the wall, there were precious few who would ever dare try a stunt like publicly supporting Undesirable Number One.
Professor Carrow must’ve been very, very annoyed. Cries of agony sounded through the whole hallway and even up the stairs as I tried to steer clear of the whole area. There was no escaping it this time, though. I lost track of time, but it had to had to have been over an hour, listening to something akin to being eaten alive by dragons.
When the sound stopped, I ventured back downstairs to make sure Professor Carrow saw me doing my duty right and proper. I was just walking by the Dark Arts room as he roughly shoved his victim, who ended up being Seamus Finnigan, out onto the stones. “Maybe that’ll make you think next time you and your gang of delinquents want to cause trouble.”
I’m fairly certain Finnigan didn’t hear any of that, as he was curled into a shaking lump on the floor, his eyes squeezed shut for all he was worth. I fought the urge to vomit. Violence was never something I could bring myself to look at, let alone inflict. Finnigan looked like a quaking child there in front of me. Even in my wildest imaginings, I couldn’t have brought him this low, which was likely why my Dark Arts score was hovering dangerously close to Troll. Just the sight of it made me forget that Professor Carrow was watching me stare.
“That’s how it’s done, Davis,” he said. “Though I suppose you just don’t have the stomach for it.” When I blanched, he laughed at my paleness. “Didn’t think so.”
To punctuate his point, he landed a heavy kick into Finnigan’s ribs, lips twitching at the long, pathetic moan that it elicited. He then made a shooing gesture and said, “Move along. Lesson’s over.” Without bothering to find help for the shaking mass of humanity at his feet, he nonchalantly returned to his office.
I desperately wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. Aiding students who had been freshly ‘disciplined’ was forbidden, I knew that, but I had to. Who knew how long it would be before he was either able to leave under his own power or someone else found him? So I did the one thing that I had dedicated myself to not doing all year long - I helped him up.
My knees nearly buckled under his weight, as he had a few stone on me, but I ignored my screaming joints and kept hobbling with him. There was an unused classroom out of earshot of anyone named Carrow where I could take him, at least long enough for him to make the rest of the way on his own. If I ever get there, I thought as I was dangerously close to dropping him and just making things worse.
That was, however, before I felt Finnigan being quickly pulled away from me. When I looked up to see who had relieved me of my burden, I was shocked to see Neville Longbottom. He had not been spotted for almost two weeks after the Carrows decided that he was more trouble than he was worth. I wasn’t expecting the scathing expression he gave me as he took over the task. However, the jostling only served to make Finnigan even more miserable. I could have left it be; I could have went on my way and forgot I saw anything, but I couldn’t do it.
“Stop it!” I hissed. “You’re hurting him.”
“Like you care,” Longbottom said without so much as a glance in my direction. “You’re no better than Crabbe and Goyle.”
Whether it was my borderline queasiness from seeing the product of violence up close or anger at Longbottom’s presumption that I was cut from the same cloth as a pair of slow-witted Neanderthals, I wasn’t sure. But he was not going to make me out to be the villain. Shooting him my best glare, I slid my arm under Finnigan’s and pointed down the corridor. “This way.”
Though I could see the distrust clearly in his face, Longbottom complied. With both our efforts, we were soon able to situate Finnigan on the floor of a classroom that hadn’t been used since Professor Lupin had converted it to a menagerie. As soon as we were inside, I closed the door quietly and cast a Locking Charm. It was then and only then, when I was sure we wouldn’t be found or disturbed, that I started applying Healing Spells on whatever visible wounds Finnigan had, as well as to his more than likely broken ribs.
Finally, when I did all I could, I looked up. It was startling to see Longbottom staring at me, but he was just the same. Not able to think of what to say, I simply quipped, “What are you looking at, Longbottom?”
Before he could answer, Finnigan groaned loudly and sat up. “Fucking Carrow. One of these days, he’s going to get my boot up his arse”
At that statement, Longbottom glanced at Finnigan in surprise. I knew exactly what that meant, and I had to hold off the snide smile that threatened to form on my face. Served him right for assuming that I’d done it. And with Longbottom properly disabused of this ridiculous notion, I decided that it was a fortuitous time for me to be elsewhere - mainly, nowhere near these two. They were quite familiar with the punishment for crossing the Head Disciplinarian.
But as my hand touched the door latch, Longbottom’s voice stopped me. “Davis!”
I stopped but didn’t turn around. “Carrow likes to climb into a bottle after he’s had his fun. You should be safe to leave for at least the next half hour.” And then I left. On my way out, though, I could’ve sworn I heard him thank me, but surely, that could not be.
III. I used to think I was not like them, but I'm beginning to have my doubts about it.
News of Potter’s heist at Gringotts didn’t take long to spread through the school, even if hardly anyone actually believed it at the time. It wasn’t difficult to figure out that, with this piece of information, there would be certain consequences. We saw the number of Death Eaters lurking about the grounds double, and students were confined to common rooms if not going to or from class. But more than that, it made Amycus Carrow a very angry man.
Only a fool would’ve crossed him, and, well… I suppose I wasn’t half as smart as I thought I was. And being seen the night before, even though to his knowledge I hadn’t done anything, didn’t help me in the slightest when I found myself called to the Dark Arts office after class.
He paced around me, and I couldn’t help but feel like I was wounded prey, waiting for a carrion bird to tear into my flesh. The only people in the whole school that looked forward to after-class visits with Carrow were Crabbe and Goyle. For the rest of us, it was a guaranteed unpleasant experience. This was no exception. I didn’t flinch as he stopped at my side and leant in toward me
“NEWTs are getting close, Miss Davis,” he said softly next to my ear. “Your marks in my class are… disappointing, especially considering your prefect status. I would really like to see the matter remedied before it’s too late.”
An involuntary shiver was the only answer I could manage. I knew what he wanted. Less than twenty-hour hours before, I might even have given in to him. Gryffindor foolhardiness was a trait I neither possessed nor desired, but a streak of defiance in me gave me the power to stutter one damning syllable. “N-no.”
I hadn’t quite expected him to laugh at me, but he did. It was still preferable to a beating, torture, or other things. However, my ill-advised bravado slammed to a halt when he spoke again. “I saw you last night, Davis, helping Finnigan.”
Illness threatened in my gut as his words sunk in. Trouble didn’t begin to describe what lay in wait for me as I instinctually took a step away from him, which I quickly learned was a mistake. The back of his hand landed hard on my cheek, and I started to taste blood as I fell to the floor. Never in my life had I felt such pain, which was not dulled by the knowledge that there was plenty more where that came from. I can’t rightly remember much of what happened when the spell hit me - only agony. Was I screaming? Probably. All there was in the whole wide universe was a venomous burn in every last fibre of my being. Nerves that I hadn’t even known existed screeched along with my lungs as my body shook with the force of the curse.
And then it was over. I stayed on the flagstones, shuddering from head to toe, wishing he would just do what he wanted or just kill me. Either way, it would’ve been better for him to get on with it. Even though my instincts begged me to run and hide, I wasn’t that stupid. No matter where I went, he would find me and finish what he started and then some. Nevertheless, I knew better than to say no to him again.
Yet, I did. Maybe I was that stupid.
“Get up!” he roared. “Off your knees, Davis! So weak… you’re an embarrassment to your house.” He grabbed me by my hair and wrenched me to my feet, but I did not cry out. He wanted me to, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. I wasn’t weak because I didn’t feel the need to torture my schoolmates, and I sure as hell wasn’t weak for helping one of them out. My anger gave me far more courage than it should’ve done.
Giving Carrow the most withering look I could muster, I hissed, “Go to hell.”
This time, I saw his hand in time to dodge it. I made a break for the door, but his wand moved far more quickly than my legs. The Impediment Jinx stopped me cold in my tracks, and soon I felt myself thrown on top of his desk. I lay there, lest he do me worse injury than he was already going to, hoping acquiescence would make this nightmare end sooner rather than later. Tears picked my eyelids, and I wanted nothing more than to bawl like a small child. But I did not, instead biting my lip and closing my eyes. Soon, I felt his hand slide up my robes.
That was, however, as far as he got. A throat cleared in the background, and his loathsome touch disappeared. I lolled my head to the side to see who had just stopped my attack, and never in my life had I been so glad to see my former Head of House.
“Snape,” Carrow acknowledged. “What brings you here?”
“If I could divert your attention for a few minutes,” Snape said, “There are important matters to discuss.” He gave me the most fleeting of glances before adding, “Miss Davis, you are excused.”
My gaze directed squarely at the floor, I stumbled from the tiny office as fast as my still traumatised muscles could take me. How I ever thought I’d actually make it all the way down four flights of stairs, I have no idea, but I never did. I could merely manage to hug the bannister long enough to make it halfway down the first one before my legs gave out on me. This time, instead of trying to get back up, I hugged my knees to my chest and sobbed.
I never expected the hand that touched my shoulder, and I definitely hadn’t thought that it would belong to Longbottom. “Tracey?” he said softly. “Are you all right?”
Looking up at him, eyes watering like mad, I managed to shake my head before staring straight in front of me at nothing in particular. I couldn’t tell him - or anyone, for that matter - what had nearly happened in Carrow’s office. The torture didn’t matter, because he did that to nearly everyone, but the thought of the rest made my stomach heave. If Longbottom had any idea, he didn’t say so, instead sitting next to me and assuming a similar pose.
“Padma told me that Carrow made you stay after class. It… it only seemed right to check on you.”
I nodded numbly before saying, “He knew I helped you and Finnigan. He pretended like it was because of my marks, but…” Finishing that thought was out of the question.
“That explains why Seamus got worked over again this morning. Carrow must’ve felt cheated.”
A pang of guilt hit me, as I was likely the cause of Finnigan’s second bout of suffering in less than a day, but it was quickly replaced by anger. Before that day, I had never been on the wrong side of the rules and had always done as I was told, but because of Longbottom and his cohorts, I’d been tortured and nearly assaulted in the worst way possible. But even as I look back now, I can’t say for sure whether I wouldn’t have done it all again. The reasons, though, weren’t what you might think.
Longbottom slipped his arm around my shoulders and helped me stand. “Let’s get you to Madam Pomfrey.”
“No,” I said, happy for his assistance. “I… I just want to lay down a bit. I’ll be all right.”
“The dungeons, then,” he said as he gave me a crooked smile of reassurance.
“Won’t you get caught?”
“Maybe. But I’m not just going to leave you here.”
It was odd, but I think we gained each other’s respect at that moment. It made me realise that none of my housemates would’ve helped Finnigan, nor would they have offered to take me to the hospital wing or wherever I wanted to go. I had often thought the propensity to always ‘do the right thing’ was one of Gryffindor’s more obnoxious traits, but just then, I was finding it hard to dislike. Granted, Slytherin had solidarity and loyalty in spades, but it was often conditional and subject to manipulation. That was why I would’ve done it all again. Not because it was moral, but because it made me imagine myself to be better than I ever had been.
IV. I wish that I could have loved you then, before our age was through. And before a world war does with us whatever it will do.
We should’ve known that the war couldn’t stay off the Hogwarts grounds for long, but I don’t think anyone thought so many things would happen at once. Before the buzz about the Gringotts escapade had even died down, we were shuffled into the Great Hall when most of us would’ve been in our beds, listening to Professor McGonagall as she directed a mass evacuation of the school. By then, everyone knew that this was it. I could see Harry Potter at the Gryffindor table, and only one thing could’ve brought the most wanted man in the country out in the open, and that was a final confrontation with You-Know-Who.
I was glad to be leaving. We were children, and children didn’t belong in the midst of a giant clash. Whether I liked them or not, I wanted to see every single student in the school far, far away before the fighting started. However, that all changed in an instant when Ernie Macmillan stood in front of everybody and asked the question that I had thought no one would ask: *“And what if we want to stay and fight?”
Until that moment, joining the fray had not even occurred to me. Would I stay? Could I stay? Would I be killed quickly if I did, or would I be able to hold my own? I even asked myself whether Longbottom was going to stay, only to dismiss it as a stupid question. Of course he would. He braved exposure to Carrow in order to make sure I was okay, so naturally, he would fight to his last breath. It made me want to do so, as well. At least until the most terrifying voice I’d ever heard overtook everything and everyone. I covered my ears, but it was useless; that voice was all-reaching.
*“I know that you are preparing to fight. Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood.”
My head started to spin at the ensuing silence as I came to the same conclusion that everyone else had: You-Know-Who was there, and I had never been so damned frightened in my life. Not even Carrow could have made me want to run and hide more than I did at that moment. Judging by the looks of stark terror in many of those around me, I wasn’t alone in this regard. But he was not done with us yet.
*“Give me Harry Potter, and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you shall be rewarded. You have until midnight.”
One person. One person in exchange for an entire school. It made so very much sense to my petrified brain, since Potter seemed quite willing to pop off and fight. One person, and it was all over. We could go back to bed, back to our lessons on Monday, back to revising furiously for our NEWTs, back to all things familiar. To give up Potter seemed like the most natural thing in the world.
When Pansy stood and said, *“But he’s there! Potter’s there! Someone grab him!” it was as if she was saying exactly what I was thinking. I hadn’t expected everyone not sitting at the Slytherin table to turn and look at her like she had asked them to go in Potter’s stead. There were so many borderline murderous stares directed at not only Pansy, but anyone around her, including me. I was gobsmacked.
And when McGonagall sneered at Pansy before directing us all to leave first, I couldn’t move. Daphne Greengrass grabbed my arm and hissed, “Come on!” before hauling me along with her. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the contemptuous faces of the rest of the school, which made quite a few things so startlingly clear. It didn’t matter how I felt or what I believed; every single one of them believed that I was against them. If I stayed to fight for the school, I would more than likely be attacked by my classmates merely because of the crest on my robes.
With this knowledge, I removed myself from Daphne’s grip and calmly followed the only people in the whole castle who might’ve understood my newfound wisdom. But as I have already mentioned, little over a day ago, I would never have even considered the alternative, yet I felt it wriggle its way into my brain as soon as we queued to follow Filch to some unknown location. That doubt stilled my feet, and I watched droves of students walk by me. Moments ago, I had been certain that I wanted to leave, yet as I did so, I recalled the resolution that I had made just that morning, that I was different. I was not like my housemates and didn’t want to be, and I didn’t belong in Slytherin. I could have laughed then and there at my naïveté.
Before I could reflect further, hands spun me around, turned my back on those who were fleeing. I should’ve known that it would be him. “Tracey.”
“Longbottom,” I said as firmly as I could.
“Stay. Stay and fight with us.”
My pulse tripped over itself, and I looked away. He wasn’t bothering with any of the other Slytherins, and neither was anyone else… just me. I didn’t know what to say or whether I could even say it if I did. Instead, my jaw dropped, and I started, “I…” before trailing off.
His hands cupped my cheeks and he angled my face so that I was looking him in the eye. “Carrow and his lot need to pay for what they’ve done, for what he did to you.” The memory of that morning sent a frigid shiver through me, to which he replied, “I know what he tried to do to you.”
Shame and embarrassment withered away my self-control. I bit my lip and closed my eyes to keep what was left of my composure, as well as to shut him out. I didn’t deserve his sympathy, nor did I want it. “It’s not that simple,” I finally said.
I felt his thumb gently stroke my bottom lip, and my breath quickened on its own accord in response to his touch. I needed to back away, to distance myself from that temptation to say yes to whatever he wanted of me, from that subtle manipulation. But I could not. That he cared enough about me at all to cajole me into staying for the battle froze my limbs and my common sense.
“You’re brave as hell, you know that?” he said suddenly, jarring me from the trance that he himself had induced. I finally opened my eyes, and I saw something akin to admiration on his face. But before I could process it or even ask him what he was talking about, his lips found mine and lingered. It was not at all how I imagined my first kiss would be.
When his mouth parted ways with mine, I couldn’t think. Or, rather, I didn’t want to. That would imply that I had two choices, whereas a minute ago, there had only been one. If I even tried to speak, I’m not sure whether I would’ve asked him to let me go or begged him to kiss me again. So I dared not, lest my choice be made for me before I could think it through.
He wasn’t done appealing to me, though. “You’re not like them. You’re better than that. If you leave now, no one will know you like I do.”
Naturally, he was right, but more than that, my mind reactivated itself and began to think again. What was it that I truly wanted? What did I truly fear? What would happen to me in either situation? But these questions were far too simple for me to answer. “I can’t.”
At his crestfallen expression, I felt that I obliged to let him know why his faith in my goodness was ill-placed. “Neville,” I started, his given name foreign yet comfortable on my tongue. “You’re right; I’m not like them. But I’m not like you either. If I stay, how many people do you really think will assume I’m fighting against You-Know-Who?”
When he didn’t answer, I decided it was a point taken and went on. “If I leave, yes, I’ll be shunned and mocked, but that happens to people in my house every day. But if I fight and live and we lose, who knows how long it will take for Carrow to finish what he started?” I had to fight off a wave of nausea at that very thought, but it had to be said, if only so he would stop looking at me like he was.
He stared into my eyes for what felt like forever before dropping his hands and taking a step back. I wanted to reach out and bring him back, to will him to understand, but we were never as different as we were right then. If only I had it in me to say ‘damn the consequences’ and mean it, but I didn’t and probably never could. That understanding of ours, that respect, would be gone soon if it wasn’t already, and I definitely was not ‘brave as hell’.
But I had the courage to do one more thing. Standing on the tips of my toes, I surprised him with a kiss as he had done to me. I smiled sadly against his lips before slowly backing away from him and in the direction of the now-thinned crowd of evacuees. “I’m sorry,” I mouthed, unable to force enough air from my chest to make any sound come out.
And I truly was sorry. I was sorry he put any sort of faith in me, sorry that I wasn’t strong enough to live up to it, sorry that what was likely the last time I would see him had to leave a bitter, salty taste in my mouth.
V. But do you think your righteousness could pay the interest on your debt?
So now I wait in the vacant Hog’s Head, long after my classmates have all either gone home or stayed for the battle. I wait for the outcome. I wait for him, hoping that what makes him good isn’t destroyed by curse or by sword, hoping that, if he ever does think of me after the moment I left him in the entry hall, that he does so more kindly than I look upon myself at this very moment.
For I am a coward, no matter what he said. Several times, I have stood and walked back toward that portrait, knowing that I can go back and fight by his side like he wanted me to. Yet I sit back down and stare at the girl who hid a century of secrets. The old man had already left to join the battle, but even his company would be preferable to this wicked, accusing silence as I pray to myself that Neville Longbottom might live long enough to hate me forever.