The Love of a Brother

Susan twists her hands around her wand nervously.

She knows this must be done, but she has no idea about how to do it. All she knows is that this is wrong, and she has to stop it.

A thousand scenarios play in her head, alternating between bad, worse, and down-right deadly. The only other thought in her head is, What would Auntie Amelia do? But precious good it does her; Auntie Amelia stood up for what was right, and Auntie Amelia is gone. So she is alone, and she can't bring herself to ask for advice.

But there's a little part of her, the tiniest, most transparent sliver of her soul that made the Sorting Hat ask Are you sure you're not meant for Gryffindor, child? that makes her stay where she is, trying to determine the best course of action.

She sits in a chair, alone, her spine bent against the rickety back of the chair (Are all the chairs in the Common Room this uncomfortable? she asks herself) as she contemplates what her next action would be.

Her fists clench tightly as she remembers what she saw this morning.

And he calls himself a Hufflepuff.

Susan feels no shame in being in her house, for what shame is there in being hard-working? The words of prigs like Pansy or prats like Malfoy have no bearing on her self-esteem; Auntie was a Hufflepuff, and she died a hero. Susan has no illusions of grandiose bravery, but she knows what is right, and thus, the answer is clear. She must stop him.

Unfortunately, her train of thought derailed and burst into spectacular flame as soon as she reached that conclusion; she has no idea of what to do next.

Confrontation? How does one confront Zacharias Smith? He's overbearing, brutish sometimes, but more importantly, he towers over her, and could probably beat her senseless.

She grits her teeth.

Just like he beat Graham Pritchard into silence.

She knows that the Pritchard family owes the Smith family. She knows that the Smith family isn't known for their generosity.

But most importantly... what was important....

She has to help Graham out now, before things get worse. Graham has the same ginger hair she does, like her mother does. Like a lot of her cousins do. And his nose looks like Amelia's. Her mother is a pureblood- for all she knows, they could be related.

Part of her is scared, but part of her is seething.

Oh, Lord.

That bastard has just walked right into the room, smirking. Susan think she can smell satisfaction- and sex- from the boy. Wrongness oozes from his pores.

She wants to hit him, badly.

But she can't. She can't get out of the chair, she can't rush him, she can't pick up a copy of Hogwarts: A History, and beat him into a bloody pulp.

She'd like to, but it's just that her legs won't cooperate.

She's so scared.

What if they hate me?

she ponders- she knows they'll lose House Points for this. Hogwarts is home, Hufflepuff her family, but every home has stories to tell, and every family has secrets to keep.

Is this one of those stories, then? Is this a secret she must keep locked up, inside her?

Susan has always lived a happy, normal life. Nothing like this has ever happened. Her parents love her, cherish her, and she them. She likes her life, and takes comfort that even in these dark days, she has people to run to. People to look after her.

And then, a thought occurs to her.

What if little Graham Pritchard doesn't have anyone to look over him?

Suddenly, the train jumps off its smoking side and launches itself down the tracks.

What would it be like, to be alone and afraid? What if his parents know, and can't do anything about?

What if they know, and they won't?

Her mind races down the given path, and she closes her eyes. The bastard looks at her as she lifts her face towards the ceiling, letting the soft candlelight show her what is, and what could be.

Fear. Cold. Shivering. Dirtiness. Filthiness. Unclean.

Alone. Graham is... alone.

Susan hates being alone, feeling isolated. This boy could have been anyone. He could have been a friend, an enemy, a cousin.

He could have been her brother.

What do people like Zacharias Smith care? They are chattel, possessions. Susan opens her eyes, and for a moment, Zacharias Smith sees a flare of fire.

And for a moment, the badger feels like a lion.

But wait. She's not. She's a Hufflepuff, and she has no experience in these things. What is she supposed to do?

In any case, someone will be disgraced. The boy will have to live with the knowledge that she outed his dirty little secret, that he was too weak to fight off Zacharias. If she tells her Head of House, Hufflepuff will lose all their hard-earned parts.

She slumps, caught between a rock and a hard place.

What does she do? She wishes Auntie was here.

She buries her face in her hands, trying not to cry, frustrated and angry- and feeling a little dirty herself, at the things she witnessed, in secret, today.

It seems there's no way out. What's a badger to do?

You know, a voice whispers, and Susan looks up. It sounds like Auntie.

You know, people like to say that in order to get what you want, sometimes you have to make a deal with the Devil. But that's not true.

Susan will never deal with the Devil.

Forget what's more important to the house, Amelia says, and Susan looks up in wonder. Forget what they'll say- what do you want to do?

Susan is unsure.

What does she want to do? She feels like a horrible person. There's all this confusion, this anger, this bad behaviour. All she wants to do is make sure Graham is okay. All she wants to do is make sure Zacharias Smith pays. All she wants to do....

...all Susan Marie Bones, Hufflepuff, mid-level student, wants to do, is to do what is right.

A little part of her snarls in satisfaction. Because, you know, badgers are ferocious too, when you threaten their own.

And Graham Pritchard could have been her brother.

And so, Susan Bones- industrious, simple, gentle Susan Bones- has decided.

She has decided that she will not deal with the Devil. And she has decided that she will bring Zacharias Smith to his knees. And when he is groveling, sniveling, and begging for mercy, she will step over him, and Susan Bones has decided that she will save the world, one child at a time.

Because, you know...

...they could all have been her brothers...

She springs up and leaves, running out of the Common Room and into the hallways.

She puffs as she runs; damn, all she has to do is think. Think, think, think. She has to save Graham, and she has to expose Smith, but she knows that Graham will probably not want the world to know.

So where would a Slytherin boy go, when he's scared and running away?

She shakes her head; she can't think of him like a Slytherin. He's not a Slytherin. He's Graham.

Where would a scared child go? Her mind searches, twists, pulls and pushes.

She skids, takes a sharp left, and heads out the doors, barely avoiding Filch.

He'd be at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. It's the best way to hide. She runs the length of it three times before she finds him, hiding, huddled behind a rock.

She corners him, and then falters. How can she put this? How does she tell him that she knows, and she's not mad at him, or disgusted by him?

How does she let him know that she doesn't find him dirty?

How does she tell him, this isn't your fault!?

She stops and drops to her knees, and puts her hands on his leg. He quails, and she quivers, because she realises that he's afraid she'll hurt him.

I won't hurt you, she whispers. And I know what happened.

He screams, then stammers that nothing has happened, and he doesn't know what she's talking about. And she grits her teeth, because this is the hardest part. Now she has to convince him. She grabs his hands and folds them between her own, holding them tight so he can't leave.

I saw what happened, she murmurs. And it's wrong, really wrong, but not because of you. Because of him, Graham, this isn't your fault and I can help you, Graham, and I know it's hard, but please believe me, I won't tell anyone, none of your friends, I swear on the blood of my father. The strongest promise a witch can make without resorting to an Unbreakable Vow.

He shakes his head, and cries, but she tells me that it's never going to get better, unless you try, Graham, but I'll be with you, and I'll make sure he never hurts you again. Trust me, Graham. Trust me like I was your sister. She relaxes his grip, and he's still holding on.

We'll make it alright, Graham. Here's the plan... she leans up and whispers in his ear, pretending she doesn't feels his tears cascading onto her neck.

So it's hours later, now, and the train is going ahead, full steam. Graham is huddled in an unused room, and Susan is hiding in a corner, wand at the ready. She's sent an owl to the Headmistress, but she knows it won't reach her until later tonight, per her orders to Martin, her pet owl.

Susan's stomach is churning, and she's afraid Graham will weaken in his fear. There are no lions, here, just a baby snake and a middling badger. So she waits, and the minutes fly by and turn into hours.

Hold on, Graham.

She freezes. It's him. At the appointed hour. Just like Graham told her.

Make no deals with the Devil, child, and the Devil will have no power over you.

And the fallen angel himself strides in. It's almost time. She grips her wand with an iron fist.

She hears Graham being to sniffle, and sees Smith sneer at the small boy's form. Almost time... almost there...

The Devil touches the child's head, and Susan springs into action, having heard McGonagall's footsteps down the hall. She jumps with speed and strength and smashes full-force into Smith's head. She imagines that his body burns hotter than the flames that consumed Rome.

But Nero's not fiddling. Not this time. This time, Nero falls.

And who knew that the Devil could fall? But the Devil in his many forms has never understood that love will freeze the most ardent, stinging flames.

Graham scrambles away as Susan kicks Smith away from him, pinning his arms down and standing up.

McGonagall strides in, tartan hat bobbing imperiously. She stands sternly, her hat looking rather deadly in the waning light.

Tell her, Graham, Susan urges. She holds out her hand, and Graham takes it, crying. And he talks, clutching Susan, tears spilling like a waterfall of purity. He tells of pain, and suffering, and silence, and why he's never spoken before. He talks of pain, and blood, and filth. McGonagall can only stare as Susan looks on defiantly.

I made no deals, Auntie.

I know, Susan.

Graham holds on to her as McGonagall binds Smith and not-so-gently leads him towards her offices. Susan stumbles along, supporting Graham, promising him that she's not going anywhere, and we'll make this better. Together.

Like families are meant to do.

And they both know that this will not be easy, but they can keep a secret. She smoothes his hair back, and for the first time she's ever seen, he smiles. Weakly, briefly, veiled behind tears and snot and fear. But he smiles.

They walk down the hall, holding hands, Susan whispering promises of comfort and healing. And Graham knows that Susan will make everything okay. And Susan knows that Graham will try, and there will be moments of frustration.

But they'll stick together. They'll watch each other's backs.

Because, you know.

That's what brothers and sisters do.