Disavowals

Chapter Twelve - Counterpoint

Anne peered around the corner of the second-floor corridor. She'd stayed behind in Arithmancy to ask Professor Vector something, and was well behind most of her classmates for dinner. Hogwarts' corridors seemed a lot emptier these days. Emptier of teachers and other students, that was; much fuller of seventh-year Slytherins. None of them had ever spoken to her, or got much closer than a packed hall away, but Anne had got the feeling that they knew who she was, now, and she didn't like it one bit. Hence her nervousness.

She didn't think they'd like her any more if they knew the whole story behind the small article in yesterday morning's Prophet about one Paul Amberley being committed for trial before the Wizengamot. It had taken her most of the day to track down Sergeant Tonks in the labyrinthine castle and ask her why it had taken so long. The reason - the one she didn't want to think about - was that, in the end, his guilt came down to her word, Eddie's, and Nicola's. Anne was sixteen, and Muggle-born; that put her word in doubt for many of the Wizengamot. That wasn't even addressing the fact that using her evidence was a red flag to the Death Eaters. Eddie's word was equally double-edged, with the added problem of Muggle eye-witness evidence being inadmissible in wizarding courts. An eight-year-old would be believed in neither Muggle nor wizard courts, so Nicola was right out. Tonks had been kind, but blunt about the facts. It had taken another two months to find sufficient usable evidence to commit Paul Amberley to trial. Anne had asked what had happened after the Aurors had taken him away.

"He was in custody," Tonks had said indifferently. "Too dangerous to let him out."

"Are you allowed to do that?" Anne said, appalled. Even if he was a Death Eater, holding someone in prison because the Ministry wanted to seemed a bit -

"Fudge pushed it through last year, just after the Dementors left Azkaban. It seemed necessary." Tonks frowned. "It is necessary, come to that."

"That doesn't seem fair," was all Anne managed.

"It's probably kept your family alive," the Auror reminded her.

Anne swallowed. "I don'tI don't have to like it."

"No one's asking you to. No one's asking me to," Tonks told her dryly. "I'd best be going."

"Thanks. For telling me."

"Anytime."

She hadn't had the chance to speak to Theo yet, and she was unsure what he would feel about it. On the one hand, she'd never got the impression he liked his uncle greatly. On the other, he didn't dislike him particularly, either, and Theo was feeling touchy about family. As anyone would.

Anne herself was simply relieved. The war had come too close to home the day Paul Amberley had Apparated to their street, and it had been sheer blind luck that had saved them. Even more than she'd thought; looking back on it, if he had believed their lie and gone away, there was a good chance he would have discovered it was a lie, and returned. Knowing they knew. Nic's indiscretion had been an unseen blessing. Of sorts. She still relived the following scuffle in nightmares.

All my magic couldn't save us when a Death Eater came calling. Just Nic's innocence and Eddie's stubbornness. Now there's an answer to the people who think Muggles don't matter.

I should pay more attention to them, I really should.

That guilt was familiar. It had been only enhanced by the arrival of a letter from the pair of them for Anne and Terry. They wrote to their parents, of course, who wrote back, on a regular basis. Nic and Eddie would often offer comments in those letters, but it had been years since Anne had got a letter from Eddie, a whole one. (Nic had been only three when Anne had left for Hogwarts.) This one, written, in Eddie's words, "since we don't see you much and Mum says we should quit whining and start fixing it," was both welcome and an uneasy reminder that Anne hadn't done enough to solve the problem. She was going to write back tonight, she resolved. Maybe she could find Terry and they could write a joint letterno, that was up to Terry to do.

Of course, if she doesn't write back, I'll have to do something about it. Mind you, Terry never misses a chance to tell anyone what she's thinking.

She jumped as the sound of quiet sobbing echoed down the next turn of the corridor. It was only a few doors and a flight of stairs down to the Great Hall and lunch; why would anyone be crying here?

Turning the corner revealed a girl hunched up in one of the window alcoves overlooking the front lawns. Anne could see the flash of a blue-and-bronze tie - a Ravenclaw, then - but the girl's face was hidden by a sheet of dark hair. Her hand was clutching the windowsill so tightly it looked as though she might break the stone.

"Are you all right?" Anne asked. She couldn't just leave her there. "Can I - do you need to go to Madam Pomfrey?"

"Go away," the girl said, not looking up. "Just go away, whoever you are."

"Are you sure -"

"Leave me alone," the girl snapped, raising her head. Her cheeks were blotched with tears. The face was familiar, but Anne couldn't quite place it.

Those half-recognised features narrowed in recognition of Anne, though.

"You," the girl hissed. "What do you think you're doing, talking to me?"

"I'm sorry, I don't -" Anne began, but the memory clicked into place, and she realised, indeed, that talking to Paul Amberley's daughter, Theo's cousin, was not something she should be doing. "Oh. I'll justI'll just be going."

The other girl made a quick grab for something in one of her pockets, but Anne was past her and heading down the stairs to the thankfully populated Great Hall.

"Bye," she said hastily. Because Celia Amberley really wants me to say good-bye to her. Manners are a pain, sometimes.

There was silence, and the echo of a sob as Anne entered the bustling Hall. It might have been her imagination. She hoped so.

"You took a while," said Brian Lochore as she sat down. "Were you talking to the Professor?"

"Mmm," Anne agreed, grabbing a plate. She was starving. Maybe eating would take her mind off the sobbing girl in the corridor -

- who is crying because you put her father in the Aurors' hands -

- because he wanted to kill you and your family -

- because you know Theo -

- and Theo ran away -

- because Theo didn't want to kill -

- because the Dark Lord demands that of his followers

"Here, have some shepherd's pie," offered Gabby. "It's really good. You okay?"

"Fine," Anne reassured her. "Justfine."

"You don't look okay," Gabby said, frowning. "Honestly, you look really upset, like Mary Clarke was in Defence, but that was because her boyfriend just dumped her, and - you're not fighting with Nott, are you?"

Anne bit back a smile. "No, Gabby, we're just fine."

"Oh. That's good, because, you know," she lowered her voice, "I know Sarah doesn't like him very much but you do so that's okay with me. Even if he's really rude."

"He - never mind," Anne corrected herself. "How was Divination?"

"It was so boring." Gabby rolled her eyes. "We had Professor Trelawney, so we weren't actually doing anything, and then Jeremy set the tablecloth on fire with the candles we were using, and -"

Anne used the time to eat her lunch. Gabby was one of the most annoying people on God's earth, but at least she was easily diverted. And she wasn't actively unpleasant. She liked everyone. She liked talking about everyone, as she was demonstrating with a diversion into Jeremy's girlfriends or lack thereof. Brian, across the table, met Anne's eyes ruefully and started talking to Mai.

"Anne, are you listening?" came Gabby's voice plaintively. Anne swallowed a hasty bite of the pie, which was delicious. "Yes, of course."

"You weren't." Gabby wrinkled her nose. "What were you thinking?"

Anne considered this for a moment, and the still overwhelming image of Celia Amberley crying, all for an interconnecting chain of events that both blamed and exonerated Anne.

"I'm thinking that You Know Who has a lot to answer for," she replied eventually.

Gabby gave her a puzzled look. "Anne, do you live on the same planet as the rest of us?"

Anne felt a sudden surge of annoyance at the intimation that she was strange for thinking about what mattered, when Gabby ignored the world. But there was no way to tell Gabby that.

"I've never lived on your planet," she said instead. "I don't think I ever will."

Gabby shook her head. "You're probably right. Oh, look, here comes Sarah!"

Anne stiffened, and tried to pretend she hadn't. Now she was going to have to keep up an amicable conversation. It was becoming increasingly difficult.

"Why're you so late, Sarah?" Mai's voice floated out across the table.

Sarah flopped into the chair beside Anne with a sigh. "It was stupid. There was this Ravenclaw fourth-year crying in the corridor, and I had to make her go to Madam Pomfrey - it took forever, she was really rude to me. Some people just won't listen when you're trying to help them." The last was said with a significant glance at Anne, which melted into concern.

"Anne, are you all right?"

Sarah cared; it was hard to remember, sometimes.

She's doing her level best to ruin my life because she's worried about me.

I'm sure Theo knows some quote about motives that fits.

"I'm fine," Anne said. "Just fine."

*

Theo glanced out the window of the Transfiguration classroom. It wasn't going to be much fun at the Quidditch on Saturday; the cold weather that had been threatening all week had finally arrived. Most of the nearby mountains were fog-shrouded, apart from those directly across the lake. They were hung with a veil of steadily approaching rain. Wind was whipping up the lake, too, carrying leaves with it. A gloomy day.

He turned back to his table. Transfiguration was not a good class, this year. There were enough people doing it that it was divided up by Houses, which meant sharing a class with his fellow Slytherins and the Gryffindors. Which was not particularly enjoyable. True, the Gryffindors did not ignore him, but there was a barrier of mutual respect and wariness that neither side cared to breach. Theo could respect and even grudgingly admire the Gryffindors in his year (at least, some of them; membership in the DA could not save Lavender Brown). But he didn't have to like them. The other Slytherins hated the Gryffindors, but they despised Theo. So he was by himself, leaning back in his chair and trying to work out why his attempts at conjuring a quill got as far as feathers, but stopped at points. He considered asking McGonagall, but she was busy chastising Draco Malfoy for talking instead of working. Theo could have told him it was stupid trying to plot in Transfiguration - plotting was for outside classes. Of course, there was no way Draco would speak two words to him - well, maybe a specific two words. Harry Potter and his friends were carrying on a very serious conversation behind McGonagall's back, but they did appear to have managed the conjuration.

Fortunately for Draco Malfoy, the bell rang at just that moment. McGonagall didn't let them leave without assigning an essay - the third Theo had got that day - but it wasn't due in for a week, thankfully. Seventh year was pure, unadulterated hell for anyone who disliked homework.

He looked out the window again as he began to pack his things away. A group of younger students could be seen crossing the lawn, probably coming back from Herbology; Theo could just make out Ravenclaw and Slytherin scarves on them. One dark-haired girl might even be his cousin Celia.

Now there was a thought to avoid. He hoisted his bag onto his shoulder and headed out of the classroom. It had taken the formal announcement of Paul Amberley's trial to drag the admission out of Anne that the Death Eater who had come so close to finding her home had been his uncle. That had precipitated a fight, one that had left both of them very upset. Anne had defended herself with "I forgot," which Theo had rightly denounced as rubbish. She'd fallen back on "It wasn't very important," but quickly abandoned that for "I didn't think you'd want to know." Theo perceived, dimly, that she probably hadn't told him from a mixture of genuine forgetfulness and a belief that he had enough on his plate. It was true, but Anne should have known better. Theo needed her to tell him the truth. That was the whole point of, of everything. He could trust Anne. Not that he'd stopped, but he'd never considered, before, that she would keep something like that from him even in a misguided attempt to keep one burden from him. If ignorance was bliss, and knowledge was power, well, Theo was a Slytherin. He knew which one he'd rather have.

The route from the Transfiguration classroom to the dungeons was short enough that Theo decided to drop his books off before dinner. He'd taken to keeping everything in his trunk, these days. Locked. There had been more than charms for letters in that book he'd found in the library, some of them closer to the Dark Arts than not. Not close enough for the book to be in the Restricted Section, but enough to warn the others in his dormitory if they tried anything (and they had) that "not a Death Eater" did not translate to "soft". In any language.

He had to walk through the Entrance Hall to get to the dungeons. His timing was perfectly unfortunate; the group of students he'd seen crossing the lawns earlier were just walking in. He'd been right. The dark-haired girl was Celia.

Theo wasn't sure what benighted part of his brain led him to say hello as he walked past her. Thirteen years was not an excuse. It should have been a warning.

"What's the matter with you?" Celia spat, rounding on him. "First those stupid Hufflepuffs, now you - are you that idiotic, Theodore? I don't have anything to do with you."

Her friends looked torn between agreement and embarrassment; Theo felt much the same.
"In that case, you'd better just ignore me, then," was not the most sensible of follow-ups. He said it anyway.

Celia hissed. Theo was rather impressed. He'd never heard anyone do that before. "You don't get it, do you? I knew all along. I knew you weren't one of us. You had those Muggle books, all hidden, and you thought you were fooling everyone, but not me. But I didn't say anything, because Mum and Dad trusted you. And now Dad's going to prison, and it's all your fault. You're going to pay, Theodore." She said the last with a certain vicious pleasure.

Theo took some time to process this - he'd known Celia was nosy, but not that she'd suspected anything. By the time he formulated a suitable reply, Celia had left. It was a classic tactic on her behalf. You were supposed to follow and beg forgiveness. It had never worked with Theo, and he didn't think she had any intention of forgiving him now, so he headed for the dungeons, instead. Several pertinent things occurred to him on the way down, and back up to dinner.

I knew there was a reason I'd been avoiding her. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Those stupid Hufflepuffs? Plural? Anne mentioned she'd seen her, but who else?

My fault? How does she know - oh, yes. She would have known he was looking for me. Great job I'm doing, alienating everyone. My House, my family

The purest treasure mortal times afford is spotless reputation.

Shut up, Mowbray.

*

It occurred to Theo, later, that he wasn't feeling half as guilty as he should be. Whatever way you looked at it, if he had not chosen flight over the Dark Lord, Paul Amberley would not be rotting in Azkaban awaiting trial. But he couldn't force himself to feel as guilty as he had even over Catriona being attacked, and the connection between that and him was far murkier. (Perhaps non-existent; the O'Neills were all quite well, two months after.) Responsible, yes. He certainly felt responsible. Just not guilty.

That frightened him, in a dim way. His uncle might not be family by blood, but he was family all the same; he and Karena had looked after Theo for the last two summers. Theo had been brought up with the mantra drilled into him that family mattered. No matter what. It was a necessary off-shoot of an attachment to purity, but there was genuine affection bound up in it as well.

But then, by those lights, I never should have left.

Possibly it wasn't a lack of guilt. Just too much, all at once; it was too hard to care about what happened to his uncle and aunt, too hard to care about Celia's hatred, too hard to wonder about what Lucas must think of him. It was too hard to care about any of them any more, when all caring could do was make Theo feel worse about himself, about the world, about everything. He could remember worrying over something like this, back in April. Worrying that it was too easy to let go, when there were so many good reasons to do so.

In the end, it wasn't that it was too easy to let go; it was that it was too hard to hold on. Too hard to pretend it was still the past and that there was a point to finding Celia and apologising, because it was the future and there wasn't a point.

The next time he saw Celia, she didn't ignore him, as she'd promised; she couldn't restrain herself from a spiteful stare. Theo was the one who ignored her. Too hard. Too hard to try safeguarding the ruins of bridges he had burnt, bridges that, in any case, he did not want to rebuild (did he? Did they?)

Still, Theo sat down that night in the common room, and wrote a letter. It was long, once he finished; there was a lot to explain. He couldn't send it, of course. It would almost certainly not be read, and if it was, and there was a reply -

Well, that would be too hard, as well. Too hard to try and pretend when all that was asked was one of the few things he could not give for his father. So the letter went into the bottom of his trunk. It was joined, over the course of the year, by more.

*

For once, nothing was happening, and Anne couldn't believe it. It was simply Saturday evening, and she wasn't doing homework, or at a DA meeting, or catching up with Terry, or talking to Theo, or worrying about Theo, oranything. She was sitting on the floor in the common room, playing Patience, while Gabby and Ellie sat on the couch and talked. The common room was filled with the quiet hum of Hufflepuffs talking, working, and dozing. It was peaceful.

Two years ago it was normal. Not special. Mum was right about there being a few minutes less in the day the older you get.

The sheer normality of the evening was evident in her success at Patience; absolutely none, which was exactly right. Mai was always curious as to why Anne played a game that she never won.
"Don't you get sick of not winning?" she'd ask. "Most games, you can win once, but I've never seen you finish a game."

"That's not the point," Anne would tell her. "It's something to do. I don't play to win."
Mai would shrug. "If you have fun."

She was presently at a nearby table, close enough to enter the conversation but able to pretend to herself that she was working. Anne wasn't paying much attention to the conversation; she was concentrating more on the cards. It was much easier with a spell to shuffle them properly (she'd never learned the Muggle way, though Theo had spent an hour trying to show her how. Terry, to Anne's chagrin, had picked it up in three minutes.) With this game, you kept going back to the beginning. She was turning over her first card when Gabby's voice caught her ears.

"Well, it's not just all gossip and stuff. Of course the Death Eaters are wrong, but you have to admit -"

"What do we have to admit?" Ellie said coolly. "It is just gossip. And rumour. And stupidity. Muggle-borns aren't magic enough. Muggle-borns don't fit in. Muggle-borns aren't as upright and nice as the rest of us. It's all rubbish."

"Some of them don't exactly fall over themselves to go against all that," Gabby sniffed.

Anne considered a comment, but the problem was that Gabby would be honestly affronted if Anne suggested Gabby had been insulting her. She picked up another set of cards, instead. Mai should be coming in just about -

"Gabby, it did occur to you that Anne is Muggle-born? Not that it ever does." Mai's tone held long impatience. A pity Sarah wasn't here; she did manage to exercise authority, however tenuously.

"And so is my father," Ellie added unexpectedly. "Do you even know anyone who fits the Death Eater propaganda? Look at the Muggle-borns we know. Hermione Granger, smartest witch in the school. Dave Hewitt, in our class, for God's sake, most morally upright person I've ever come across. Anne, who'sAnne."

Anne met the uncertain glance with a wry smile, but said nothing. She could have finished the sentence, herself. Anne who fits in so well we don't notice her, who's so normal she fades away, except that she isn't anymore and how the hell do we deal with that?

"Oh, of course most of it's gossip," Gabby said carelessly, tossing her hair back, "but you don't know everything, Ellie." For a moment her mouth tightened. Anne blinked, laying a jack down; it was an unexpectedly hard look for Gabby. She was many things, some of them decidedly annoying, but malicious, never.

Sarah wasn't - isn't - malicious, and now I can barely carry on a civil conversation with her.

"What don't we know?" asked Mai from her table. "If it's one of those old stories about Hermione Granger dumping Harry Potter, don't bother."

"It's not about anyone at school," Gabby began, then hesitated. That was unusual enough to get Anne's attention; Gabby did not hesitate in stories. Discretion was just another long word where she was concerned.

"It's nothing very important," she said, slowly. Anne frowned at her cards, only half-seeing them. Maybe if she moved that queen out of the wayThere was a rustle from the couch as Ellie unfolded her arms.

"We're listening," she said. "Evidence from all sides, after all."

"My father's first wife was Muggle-born," Gabby said. Anne looked up, studying her. A slight frown marred Gabby's forehead; she wouldn't look directly at Ellie. "They got divorced, oh, ages ago, but they had a son."

"I didn't know you had a half-brother," Anne commented. "Is he much older?"

"Lots. He's got a couple of kids himself, now; they're about three and five. That's not important." Gabby flicked her half-brother away with a wave of her hand. "I don't know him very much, or them. His mother got married again after she left Dad. The thing is"

Anne had never known Gabby this reluctant to tell a story, even one that impacted on her. The details of her first boyfriend, in fourth-year, and their break-up, had been told with a light tongue and wicked humour.

"So your dad got divorced once. It's not the end of the world," Ellie shrugged. Even the scritch of Mai's quill had halted, now.

"Yes, but it didn't matter until now, because they hated each other," Gabby burst out, eyes bright with anger. "But now Dad's gone and started talking to her again - just because they're grand-parents, it's ridiculous- and even Mum gets on with her - and I know she's really horrible!"

"What did she do?" Anne asked.

Gabby bestowed upon her a look she normally reserved for blind idiocy. "Because Dad divorced her, of course she must be horrible!"

"Of course," Ellie muttered.

"And now I have to see her son and his kids, and she even came over for lunch in the holidays with her husband. She should just go away and leave us all alone. If she was aa decent person, she wouldn't have got divorced. Decent people don't do that."

"But what does this have to do with Muggle-borns?" Mai said, looking bemused. "Sure, we wizards don't get divorced much, but it happens."

"She's Muggle-born. It's all her fault," Gabby said, with the air of one pronouncing sentence.

"And if we know people like her, then -"

Anne remembered Gabby's pure-blood innocence at the idea of the war coming to her doorstep, and completed the sentence.

"- then the Death Eaters will have a reason to come after your family. For tainting themselves."

Gabby blinked, and looked at Anne for the first time. "Well, yes! It's all right if you're Muggle-born anyway, but Dad should know better!"

"There are no guarantees, Gabby," Ellie said wearily. "My aunt. She was as pure-blood as most people get, these days, and they killed her. No promises. No safety."

"There are two sides, in wars, not three," Mai explained. Again. "Gabbywe're all in danger, a bit, or a lot, as long as there's a war. Merlin, just look at Cedric Diggory. As pure-blood as they come, innocent, harmless, and he was the first one to die. If your family get in their way, who your dad used to be married to won't make the slightest bit of difference."

Gabby shook her head stubbornly, hunching into herself. "We'd be safer."

Anne thought of the Martins, seemingly so long ago, and Theo, broken out of his exquisite trap into another one. Dean Thomas, another Muggle-born, another casualty. Her own family. And Gabby's determined, patient denial; looking for someone and anyone to blame, somewhere, anywhere, to hide.

"What about your little sister?" she said into the silence. "What does she think?"

Gabby looked even more sullen. "She likes having a niece and nephew. She thinks they're cute."

"Well, are they?" said Mai, sounding amused.

"Yes." Gabby scowled.

Anne let out a noise of frustration. "I'm stuck. Ellie, can you see any moves I could make?" Ellie leaned over to peer at the cards. "Uhnope."

"Why do you play that, anyway?" Gabby rolled her eyes. Then her expression cleared. "Muggle cards. They're so boring. I'll go and get my Exploding Snap cards, shall I?" She bounced up off the couch, pausing only to call back "Mai, you have to play too!"

Mai sighed and corked her ink-bottle. "All right."

"Nice save," Ellie muttered, sliding down onto the floor and helping Anne pick up her cards.

"Well, you know Gabby, she'll forget all about it in three minutes," Anne shrugged. "She's like that."

"You're a saint, sometimes," said Ellie, half-seriously. "You know that?"

Mai, joining them, laughed outright. "A saint? Excuse me? For all the dirty looks you've been throwing at Sarah -"

"I don't throw dirty looks at anyone," Anne protested.

"She means well," Mai said, stretching out on the floor. "Just let her be. She gets over things."

"I know she does." Anne took a breath. "But I'm not going to if she doesn't stop interfering. It's my life, and my choices. I don't need a mother."

"And how happy would your mum be about Nott?" Ellie said, eyebrows raised.

"My mother," Anne announced with dignity, "likes Theo perfectly well, thank you."

Mai pushed herself up on her elbows. "You're not serious!"

"I'm very serious," Anne said grimly.

"You need to tell Sarah what you think yourself," Ellie told her. "She's not a mind-reader. If you just avoid her, she can't know."

"I - well, I don't want to start a fight," Anne replied with an awkward shrug. "You know how Sarah gets. If - things could get veryuncomfortable. With all of us."

"You did say it was your life," Mai said dryly. "Deal with it."

"We'll see." Anne folded her arms around her knees.

"Sorry I took so long, they were at the bottom of my trunk." Gabby plopped herself down, apparently oblivious to the tension. "First I thought I'd lent them to Sarah, and I couldn't look in her trunk, and she's at that Prefect meeting, then I remembered I'd got them back, and then they were under all my socks -"

"Shall I deal, or do you want to?" Ellie said.

"I will." Gabby chattered on as she dealt out the cards. "I'm so glad I'm not a Prefect, it must be impossible with all the meetings -"

Anne wondered if Gabby really had forgotten her anger, or whether she was burying it; it was impossible to tell. She had far too much practice at, well, people, to let something like that dissuade her from her talk.

Talking to Sarah. They're right, I suppose. Ignoring the hints will only get me so far.

But I don't have to like it.