Metamorphosis

Metamorphosis:

~*A transformation from a immature form of being to an adult one*~

E.g. A caterpillar into a butterfly

Prologue

In a cold, dimly lit doorway a young woman stood. She stood defiantly, as defiantly as her weak body could withstand. Her normal curvy figure was reduced to a thin layer of fat and bones. Her ashen complexion sallowed and sagging. Her thick brown hair greasy and limp, she was the living dead. The only things alive were her eyes. Living sapphires, bluebell flames caught in the iris of her eye. They could stare down a wall any day.

She was awaiting her trial.

For days, maybe months she had been sitting and starving in that hellhole of that prison. Dementors were constantly at her cell feeding on her distraught emotions and powers. Yet they could not rob her of all her powers and they knew it. Her grief and situation had turned her numb. She felt as if she was immune to any emotion, but then again she hadn't had her trial yet.

She heard Bagman ooze his way through a close call, she heard Crouch betray his son and she heard the black hooded woman pledge her utter, dying faith to the dark lord.

"The dark lord will rise again, Crouch! Throw us into Azkaban, we will wait! He will come for us; he will reward us beyond any of his other supporters! We alone were faithful" "We alone tried to find him!" taunted the black hooded woman.

Within earshot, she began to weep, all her represses emotions coming out. This was the final straw.

The black hooded woman surged out of the court, dementors on either side. She paused to look at the woman with the sapphire eyes. "Good bye Blanche," whispered the blue-eyed woman. "My name is not Blanche," the other hissed, though for all her brave faith to the dark lord, she could not meet the other's eyes.

"No, you are quite the opposite of that now," the other mused, her eyes filled with sadness and wishes of better times. Before anyone could retort to that she was given a huge thrust forward, and stumbled even for her queen like stance. The dementors hurried the blue-eyed woman to enter the courtroom, but they didn't touch her.

She entered the courtroom; a cold sea of faces greeted her, this wasn't going to be easy. She glanced, scanning the crowd for a familiar face; she saw many, yet she knew she was not familiar to many. Her eyes stopped at a would be handsome man, despite being the perfect picture of ill health, he would not look at her. She knew what he thought, like many others did, the bitch of the betrayer. She saw an old, white haired man, he held her gaze, yet he couldn't for long. For once the great Albus Dumbledore was stumped, he didn't know what to think. And then she withheld him in her gaze. A person of whose opinion was very important to her. Severus Snape looked her straight in the eye and bowed his head. Faith, utter faith was in his eyes. With renewed confidence she smoothed her tangled web of hair and straightened her knee length Jersey dress and cardigan. It was time to be judged.

"I call Ms Natalia Shycock to take the stand," roared Crouch, with a lining of hatred in his tone. "On the grounds that she was a Sirius Black's ally in the betrayal of the Potters and for jumping to his defense from several hit wizards. What plead you?" He spat. Gathering all her courage and finding her voice, she began.

"I, Natalia Shycock am innocent. I will not to plead to be something I am already. There is no evidence whatsoever that I betrayed the Potters, I would never, and I loved them far too much. The exact same goes for Sirius, he would never . . . . .."

"Do you acknowledge that Black was the Potter's secret keeper?" interrupted Crouch viciously.

"To my knowledge, that is the truth, but under no circumstances, would he betray them,"

"Clearly you do not know your bastard of a fiance as well as you think," smirked Crouch.

She thought her anger and hatred had been stretched to their limits, yet they were renewed in an instant.

"Don't you ever speak about him that way!" she roared furiously in response, about to lunge on top of him, forgetting all magic and restrictions. She stopped immediately when she saw herself at many a wands' point. She tried to collect her thoughts and prepare her speech. "Sirius Black was not a saint, yet he was not a Judas either. He loved the Potters with all his heart and he would never betray them. That is why I leap to his defense without questioning his honor, I know him to well, I love him so much to question it," She paused, realizing that admitting how much you love a supposed betrayer and murderer was going to cost her heavily. Her eyes focused on certain people in the crowd, all were spellbound by her, yet horror and disgust were apparent on their faces. She winced, it hurt. "Blind faith some may call it, but without faith and hope what are we? So I hope you have the faith in me to see that I am innocent. And the faith in Sirius to see that in him, at least give him a trial," She snarled the last part, glowering irately at Crouch. He almost spat back as if she were lower than any house-elf that walked the earth.

"Jury," he commanded, "What say you on this matter?" They discussed in hushed voices for a few moments. Then a wizened wizard stood up and in a feeble voice began "There is no evidence of her betrayal to the Potters, except the obvious relationship between her and Black. She came to his defense against several hit wizards, betraying her colleagues, though not injuring them exactly; we conclude that does suggest dark arts activity and betrayal of the Ministry of Magic. While this is merely suggested not proven, we cannot put her in Azkaban, but suggest exile of a form."

"What form?" questioned Crouch.

"Exile from The Magical world, Britain and never be able to perform magic for . . . . . . ."

"Please don't say forever," she begged silently.

"For a period of fourteen years,"

"That is it then, that is sentence, Shycock," roared Crouch, banging his hammer for finality. Anger welled up inside of her at this.

"You think you are doing justice? You son of a.... You are destroying it!" She screamed. Then she was whisked away by dementors, never to see the man she hated so again, and knocked out cold.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hours later (she presumed) she found herself and her meager belongings outside the cold fortress on a bench, beside a concerned, yet smirking Severus Snape. "Finally up?" he said. "I would like to see how long you'd be out for if you were smashed on the head by a dementor," she grumbled. "I wouldn't," he told her. Now, it was her turn to smirk. On a more serious note he added, "How are you Natty?" She sighed, realizing how awful she really was, it was good to hear him call her that though. "Awful, my head hurts and my whole life has been ruined," she responded, keeping the bitterness in her voice to a bare minimum. "Four of my friends are dead, one is in Azkaban, one hates my living guts and the man I love is in Azkaban on false accusations. The whole world hates me, that's how I feel."

"I'm sorry," he said

"Thank you," she replied.

"I believe you," he said

"I know," she replied

"Yet, why do you defend him? He did it you know. Why do you defend him?"

"Severus," she reprimanded severely "We've had this conversation before,"

Severus Snape's eyes turned cold at this memory, yes this was a conversation, a discussion, a disagreement, an argument or a full out fight they had had many times before.

"I love him Severus, I know him Severus, he would never, could never do that,"

"I never thought, that you of all people would let love blind you like this, remember what he did to me Natalia?" he retorted, scratching out, old deep wounds.

She winced at her full name, but her heart turned cold. "I've told you Severus, never bring that up with me again, and how would you know if love is blinding, since you've never loved someone that isn't dead," she spat at him wrathfully. As she said this her throat filled with dread and guilt at her statement,

"How dare you!" he hissed in a low, dangerous voice."How dare you speak about her like that,"

"How dare I? How dare you speak about my fiancé like that! As if he was a servant of Voldemort, which he is not! Only you would know what that is like", she screamed. "At least I was open about it and turned it into good! I never betrayed Dumbledore, which is something you and your bastard fiancé did!"

He immediately regretted this. Her eyes rounded in wrath and disgust. "Don't you ever say that Snake!" she hissed, reverting to his childhood nickname, given by Sirius. He looked at her, that cold, distant look filled with anger, disgust and hate. He had never looked at her like that. She returned it and started to walk away.

Saying: "Goodbye Severus Snake,"

He didn't reply.

As she sauntered out of the fortress she stopped when she saw Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore, looked at this young woman, she had surprised him to say the least. She had turned out the furthest from what he had expected, even when she had first tried on that sorting hat. She was one never expected to go to the dark side, yet he was sure she had. Maybe she deserved this banishment, maybe they all needed it. This was a case where he didn't know who to trust, he trusted Severus, yet he just couldn't trust her. He forced himself to meet those strange, ex-raying, forbidding eyes.

She winced when she soul searched his eyes, she saw confusion and she expected that, yet she also saw loathing that marred her soul. To be hated by Albus Dumbledore was not a good thing.

"I know what you will to ask," he said to her concisely, "and the answer is no."

"Who is he going to live with then?" her voice reaching a pleading note

"That does not concern you," Dumbledore spoke harshly; he had never talked to her like that.

Tears began to well up in her eyes; her world was slowly coming to an end.

"Never try to find out where he is, ever. Do you understand me?" He spoke with hate as an undertone to his voice. This angered her, how can he not believe her?

Gathering all her emotions she spat,"No, I won't Sir; he won't be dirtied with my pitiful excuse at a life. Maybe you will let the Dursleys do that?"

He didn't flinch, but his eyes showed otherwise.

"Promise?" he stated steadfastly.

"Promise, professor," She spat sarcastically and irately.

And with that she left, the wizard world had had enough of her and she of it.

For now.

The Nit: Nat

~*Small and insignificant, the beginning of metamorphosis*~

1.

A turn to tragedy

Far away in a strange country, in a strange land, in a strange province, in a strange town, there lived a girl. Far away from the wizarding world that you know, was she, in the muggle world, who would change many lives, of whom you do know, forever.

The country was South Africa, the province was Natal and the town was Kloof, Durban. There, lived a girl called Nat. At the tip of Africa, in a country torn apart by turmoil and racial prejudice, there she was.

On the 21^st of May 1961, Annette Shycock gave birth to twins. First, Elisabeth Anne Shycock, then ten agonizing minutes later she bore another, whom was named Natalia May. The last birth was especially long and hard, on the already frail woman's fragile body. She died, soon after the birth of Natalia.

Leaving, two barely an hour old twin girls, a distraught man and a two year old son, with nothing in the world, but each other.

From then on Natalia was just Nat, nothing more or less.

She and her twin were extremely close, identical at first glance, but demanded a closer look. Nat had dark, almost black hair, and eyes, so blue, people wanted to look at them, but were disturbed by their intensity. Elisabeth was like her father, lighter brown hair and aquamarine eyes. Nat was cursed (in her opinion anyhow) to look like her mother.

It was a known fact; Elisabeth did the talking enough for both if them. She did the listening. Elisabeth was better at basically everything that Nat; she was daddy's little girl. Nat was the follower and the blamed on the topic of her mother's death. Only herself and her father really did this though. Their brother, Tristan adored her though and made up for any hurt she might suffer from her father's dismissal. She endured the first years of her life with a very low self-confidence. Though there was one thing that gave her a shred of it, She remembered the moment exactly.

They were seven. It was time for their first tennis lesson. Elisabeth took her first forehand, a strong and confident stroke. The tennis coach watched the other twin, a mere shadow of her sister. How would she fair? Nat gripped the tennis racket, she was so nervous! She almost closed her eyes and just whacked. Wow! Her stroke was powerful and exact. From then on it was one of the only things that could make her forget something awful. Elisabeth had at first been astonished at it, yet she accepted it. Though, she refused to play the sport.

Then on Christmas Eve 1971 everything changed.

Nat sighed heavily, here they went again. Why did Elisabeth always get the front seat? It was so unfair! She got into the back of the car next to Tristan and did up her seat belt. Though he loved her very much, he was still a twelve-year-old boy and was prone to teasing his sisters. "Sulking Natty!" he joked as he sat himself beside her and buckled up. Her already swelling temper was fused by this and was set off. "Don't call me that you domkop!" she retaliated.

"Natty! Watch your language," Elisabeth reprimanded as she sidled into the desired front seat, dismissing her seatbelt in order to reprimand her twin.

"Yes, Lissie dear," she retorted in her most sarcastic voice.

"Nat, don't be sarcastic with your sister," her father reprimanded severely as he slid into the driver's seat and buckled up.

"Why not?"

Nobody answered her.

All continued in this vain in till Nat got sick of it. Addressing her father she said: "Why am I always blamed for everything? Why do you always take the other side? Why do always praise her and not me? Why do love her more than me?" he father's mouth gapped at her like a Jellyfish and Elisabeth looked violated. Tristan kept wisely quiet. "Don't say such rubbish Natty!" Her sister said.

"Don't speak to me like that Miss perfect," She screamed. "I HATE you!"

"No you don't," her sister said, though tears of hurt welled up in her eyes.

"Yes I do. I..." But she never got to finish her sentence, because at that moment something ran across the road, the car in front swerved back to avoid it and they rammed into it. Her father was thrown against the steering wheel; the two in the back safely tucked into seatbelts were chucked into the back of the front seats. Yet, the twin in the front, whose seatbelt was absent want flying through the windshield, never to know a thing again.

Nat groggily opened her eyes; she could taste blood on her tongue. All these people were swarming around her, a siren blaring in the distance.

"How do feel dear?" a fat paramedic asked her. "Where's my sister? Where's my twin?" she fretted. "Well dear," the paramedic stalled. "She...."

But she was up and away,"No dear," she wailed. But, it was two late, lying there on a stretcher was her finally beaten twin, as dead as a doornail.

Elisabeth was rushed to the hospital, yet there was nothing they could do for her, she was dead.

When she had first seeing Elisabeth just lying there, her body had gone into a state of shock, it didn't know what to do with itself.

Now, at home, after the accident, it did. It cried. Her entire being racket with sobs as she replayed her last words to Elisabeth. She didn't have Christmas, for a week she ate nothing, did nothing, just stayed in her room and cried nobody could even try to comfort her.

The funeral was horrible, she was made to talk about her twin, to honor her memory, and all she did was cry instead. All she wanted to do was tell people to "footsak" when they tried to offer her sympathy. They didn't how she felt; none of them had lost Elisabeth as a twin.

At school she declined to do anything, she refused to play tennis, talk to her friends or go out. She refused to acknowledge her Birthday. She started to wonder how she could go on without the one person who had meant the world to her, even though she hated her at times. She still loved her more than any other being.

Little did she know the answer was being delivered to her window by an owl, on a piece of parchment at that very instant.