Pull of Evil

Chapter Three: Learning

"Wingardium Leviosa."

Corrine cited the spell and the quill at the end of the table obediently flew up in the air. This was the third time she had managed it this morning. Now she was trying to get the quill to fly around the room according to her command. For a while it worked and the feather danced like an invisible puppet string connected it to the wand in her hand, but when she tried to call it back to her it just fell flat on the floor.

"How do you make it come to you?" she asked Albus.

Dumbledore chuckled as he lifted his head from the book he was reading. "The Summoning Charm is not usually taught until 3rd or 4th year, Corrine." He knew from the get go that she would be eager to learn as much as possible.

"Well I don't care when the other students learn it. I can do all the ones in that book," she said and pointed to the copy of Standard Book of Spells: grade one, that Albus had given her this morning.

"Very well. You say the incantation Accio and then the name of whatever object you would like to summon. I'll demonstrate." He held out his hand for his wand. Dumbledore had been letting Corrine use it. He had told her that he wanted to show an act of trust, show her that he knew that she would never be dangerous like her father. Corrine didn't think that she would likely hand over her only wand to the child of a mass-murdering monster regardless of how much she trusted them. That was, however, one of the things that made Albus different than other people; he always gave them a second chance.

She quickly placed the wand back in its owner's hand. "Accio Textbook," he said, and the Miranda Goshawk book landed deftly in his hand. He put it back in his bag. Corrine didn't know what kind of charm had been performed on the carpet style suitcase, but anything that he seemed to need Albus could pull out of the giant bag, even if it happened to be twice the size as the bag itself.

"Let's try a few of these." He removed more volumes and handed them over to Corrine. She quickly started reading their titles.

"Magical Theory, mom has that one, Standard Book of Spells: grade two, Intermediate Transfiguration." Corrine's head popped up as she read the last one.

"I assumed that you've already been through the Beginning Transfiguration volume of your mother's I saw on the shelf. It looked rather battered," he said with a smile.

Corrine blushed. Indeed, she had gone through the book with her mother's wand before she snapped it. She found Transfiguration a little difficult. Charms were turning out to be one of her strong points. "Well, I could use a hand with it anyway. I'm not that great at the Transfiguration."

"Practice. That's the unfortunately integral ingredient to good Transfiguration. Not something students always want to hear. Try the Summoning Charm a few times, then maybe we'll make a few needles out of some matches," he said pulling yet another item from his bottomless bag.

He handed her back the wand, and she tried it a few times. The quill she summoned fine, but when she tried to summon a book it went zipping through the air and she had to duck as it violently hit the wall behind her sending dust and debris flying.

"Let's concentrate on smaller items, I think," said Albus. "Something unbreakable, I might add. We should also fit you with a wand of your own. Your own always works better than someone else's." He started pulling little oblong boxes out and placing them on the table. "I don't have a huge selection, but I'm sure we can find something that works for you. I hope to persuade Helen to take one as well. Since you will be unable to use magic during the year, it would be a great help if she could perform at least some household spells."

Dumbledore proceeded to open about a dozen boxes so Corrine could see the wands inside. She handed him back his wand and then gently picked up the closest one to her. It had a strip of paper on the bottom of the box labeled "blonde-wood, unicorn hair, ten and a half inches." Corrine thought it looked longer than that. "How do I know if a wand is right for me?" she asked.

"Matching wand to wizard is an art unto itself. Ollivander is best at it. Wave them around. If you can manage a spark or two, try a charm," he said.

After only second of trying the blonde wand Corrine put it down, knowing that it wasn't right for her. The second one she tried was yew, dragon-heart-string, and nine inches long. She managed a few sparks but it didn't have the warmth or power of Dumbledore's. The third did nothing whatsoever at all when she tried and the fourth she began to have the terrible buzzing and dizzy feeling again. Quickly she replaced it in its box after reading the label, "holly, phoenix feather, eleven inched." She closed the box and pushed it over to Dumbledore.

"Well that one's a no," she told him. He smiled but didn't tell her why he seemed to be feeling very pleased.

"Keep trying them. The leftovers I'll send back to Mr. Ollivander."

Corrine noticed on the back of the boxes were little labels with numbers on them. Seven Galleons, it read. It had to be a price tag.

"These are expensive, aren't they?" she asked.

"Please don't worry about that, Corrine. I have more than enough money to buy you anything that you may need. When I brought your mother here I agreed to take care of anything she, and you, may need as best as I could. They are all my gifts to you. Let us not speak any more of this," he said.

Corrine nodded and returned to trying wands. At last she found the one that worked for her. It was Mahogany, phoenix feather, eleven inches long. It felt warm in her hand like Dumbledore's. The charms just flowed out of it and when she held it, it felt like an extension of her arm.

"This is it," she declared. "Accio book," she said, and the book she was pointing at came sliding across the table, landing just short of her hand. "Well, that's better anyway."

As the morning progressed Corrine began trying even harder spells. After apparently mastering the Summoning Charm they worked on repelling and disarming. Corrine had the distinct feeling that Albus could have stopped any attempt she made to disarm him but didn't out of good manners. They had gotten an immense amount done, but as midday came and went Corrine realized how many of her daily chores she had neglected.

The goats were outside braying to be milked and Corrine jumped up from the table. "I have to go, Albus. I haven't done any of my work."

"I'll come and help you. There are a great many charms that I'm sure you'll find useful."

Together they gathered the goats into the shed and Corrine set up a bucket to milk one. As she began, Albus stopped her.

"Please, allow me." He pointed his wand at the animal and said, "lactare." Milk started free flowing from animal's teats into the bucket.

"Cool! What was the incantation again?" she asked.

"Lactare," he said more slowly.

Corrine set up a bucket for another doe and tried it. The milked sputtered and trickled out, missing the bucket here and there, but the spell worked well enough.

"Show me more!" said Corrine, a little too forcefully.

"Corrine, while I would never expect yours and my relationship to be like that I have with any other student, a modicum of respect would be nice. My students request, not demand information. They also call me "sir" or "professor." I don't expect that from you, however. You are like a daughter to me. Well, granddaughter would be more accurate. Nonetheless, it would be nice if you showed a little more of the good graces I have tried to instill upon you."

Corrine felt her face burn with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Albus. I guess I'm just a little too excited is all. Thank you for the lessons. Will you please show me another spell?" she asked nicely this time.

"Indeed I will. See how easy it is to be polite?" he asked.

This was a common and not very favorite subject of conversation they regularly have. "I'll do it for you, but I still don't see the use in watching everything I say when I live completely away from people and civilization. Out here who cares what I say?"

"I care, Corrine. And who knows, you may well one day leave Eynhallow. The world outside appreciates good manners even if they so seldom use them."

"I thought we decided that already. I can't leave," she said.

"Perhaps not now, but that may not always be the case. I don't like the idea that I've assigned you to permanent isolation. That was never my intent."

Corrine nodded. She knew that many things happen as a result of ones' actions, even if they were not intended. She also didn't want to admit to Albus that she was actually afraid of leaving, afraid of people and a life totally foreign to the one she knew. Still, a part of her would always want to leave.

After milking they brought the buckets in and set the cheese to fermenting. Minty had given the animals their morning feed, but midday was long gone so Corrine went out to feed them again. They managed the majority of the homestead's chores before sunlight faded with Albus demonstrating spells at every turn. Corrine really liked it when he showed her how to use the Vanishing Spell to clean up animal droppings. Her own Vanishing was going to take a little more work, however. When she tried it, only half of the dung disappeared, not much of an improvement.

Dinner was very quiet. Corrine was exhausted after a day of learning and Helen was extremely subdued. She was upset that Corrine had decided to study magic but would apparently never question anything Dumbledore thought was right. Her not quite seeing eyes made no attempt to focus on anything. Corrine didn't know the last time her mother had bathed and her brown hair was in mats. She was going to have to do something about that. After she had finished eating her mother returned to plying yarn, rocking back and forth as she spun, humming nonsense.

"Minty, warm some water for me, and fetch a soap wouldn't you?" Corrine asked the elf.

A moment later Dumbledore had conjured some wonderful lavender bubble bath and a nice brass basin full of steaming water. Minty brought in a brush and strong soap and they started gathering Helen over to be cleaned.

"Excuse us please, Al. We have to take care of mum," said Corrine.

"I can help you. It would not bother or disgust me in any way," he said.

"No," Corrine said quickly, "you can't. I'll do this. Just go to bed, Albus. We'll have another lesson tomorrow, right?" she asked.

"Indeed. Goodnight, Corrine," he turned and said the same to Minty and Helen, who smiled at him before retreating to his cell.

It took some work to persuade Helen to come to the fire and be bathed. Even after many years away from torment she still had trouble with people touching her. Every step of the process required great care and patience. Corrine sang while she washed her mother, silly little songs a normal child might sing. They sounded completely wrong from her mouth. A child she might be but her life of hardship aged her in a way only those who have lived it can know.

The hair was the hardest part. Minty and Corrine had to reassure her the whole time as they worked to clean through the knots. Helen's hands were shaking and Corrine could feel her mother cringing, almost pushed to past her limits. When at last they are almost done Corrine began to dress her mother; covering scars of such dark magic she didn't even want to know. When she was robed they began to brush the tattered brown locks. Corrine was completely unprepared when her mother's hand went up, and grabbed her face.

"I should be doing this," she said, her voice like a whisper.

"It's okay, mum. I don't mind," said Corrine, starring at her mother's face, firelight dancing across it.

"No," she shook her head. "I'm your mother. I should be helping you, not you helping me," she said.

But even as she said the words her body began to shake again and the moment's clarity passed. Corrine smiled as she braided the newly combed hair. She knew that she had made the right choice.

* * *

Corrine fell asleep almost instantly. She was so tired she didn't bother to undress but went to bed in her robes. The puppies were warm around her feet and her covers were barely unfolded over her when she began dreaming. Her head was buzzing, and even in the dream she felt the familiar spinning sensation as the world struggled to right itself around her.

There was a room, terrible and dark. A cold voice was laughing. It was a horrid sound, bereft of joy, or mirth, or goodness. It's issuer held a mocking contempt for everyone and everything. A woman was cowering before the laughing man. He was laughing at her. She was beautiful, tall and lean with shimmering brown hair. Helen was not yet the wreck she was in the present. She was suffering before the Dark Lord and he was laughing at it.

"Kill him," he commanded.

Helen wanted to cry, to die herself, to do anything but obey the order given to her. "My Lord, please," she begged.

He only laughed again. "You want my love?" he mocked. "You claim to give me yours, that you are my most faithful, truest servant. Then you must follow all of my orders. If you are to receive the great honor and gift I have waiting for you, you must prove your love and loyalty. Kill him!"

Helen whimpered as his voice rang out through the room. She could not look at the man in the corner. She knew he was unconscious, that he had been beaten and tortured. Thankfully she had not been required to do that, too. But now she must act. She only wished that she had the strength, had the will, to refuse him. Even if she did love him more than anything.

Helen closed her eyes and leveled her wand at Smith. She focused all the hate and venom she had for herself and let out the curse at the man. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

The man did not twitch even once as he died. The spell hit him, for a moment he glowed with green light, then he was gone. Yet he was the one and only man who truly did love her.

Helen collapsed on the ground. Silent tears were streaming down her face as Voldemort looked down on her with a satisfied smile curving his lips. If she would kill her own father for him, surely she would do anything. For what he needed she would do well, better than the others at the very least.

He reached down and brought her up to him. His grip was like a vise. Pain was piercing through Helen's arms where he held her. He pulled her tighter into his arms, savagely and harsh, bruising and tearing at her flesh. She didn't care anymore. He was touching her, holding her, not keeping the awful distance he usually did. He brought those terrible red eyes to her own and for once they did not hold the dreaded contempt they always wore. He was looking at her with satisfaction, not quite pride, perhaps approval.

He looked at her wet cheeks and the tears sputtered and boiled away, burning her face. "No more tears. If you are to be my wife, there will be no tears before the Dark Lord," he said coldly.

"Yes, My Lord," she whispered.

"I have many tasks waiting for you and you will perform them without question," he said to her.

"Yes, My Lord."

How she wished she could refuse him. At least then he would kill her for disobedience and it could be over. Why did she have to love him? Why was she so useless and helpless to stop it? But even as she despaired inside, he kissed her. Cruelly and savagely so that her lips were wet with blood but he was kissing her. Through the pain Helen's heart leapt. Maybe someday he could love. Maybe then, he could stop hating, stop hurting the world.

It was then that he first took her. Lying on the cold floor, the body of her just murdered father only feet away. It was terrible and violent. She could not call it rape, for Helen gave herself willingly to the man she loved, but it was then that Helen knew that she was wrong. This man could never love. Helen's mind cried out in terror. From that moment on, she wished for death.

* * *

Corrine heard the crying, at first in her dream and then from the next room. Helen was screaming. The buzzing and pounding in Corrine's head was excruciating. Everything was spinning. With all her might Corrine forced herself up and began walking towards the dreadful sound.

Staggering, she emerged into their main room. Helen was sitting in a chair. Albus was holding her hand as she wailed. He had his wand pointed at her head and he was chanting a spell like a song.

"STOP IT!" Corrine shouted.

Dumbledore didn't move. He continued to work his way into her mind.

"I said stop! NOW! STOP!" This time Corrine forced herself to run to her mother. She shoved Albus away from her, pulling their hands apart, and put her arms protectively around her mother.

His wand went flying across the room. The spell ended, and Helen stopped screaming.

Corrine held her mother tight stroking her head, and rocking her like a child as she cried.

"Corrine, I meant no harm. Please, allow me explain," came Albus' voice.

"Get out of here!" she shouted at him. "How dare you! What were you doing to her!" demanded Corrine.

Albus began to walk over to them.

"No, Back! Stay Back!" Corrine shouted. She pulled out her wand and without even knowing what she was doing a stream of flames erupted out of its end and formed a ring around her and her mother, keeping Albus out.

Corrine shrieked when she saw what she hand done and nearly dropped her wand. Now Minty had arrived in the room and was screaming, adding her voice to Albus' shouts, Helen's crying, and Corrine's shocked whimpers.

The flames were growing and Corrine didn't know how to stop them. Her head was buzzing even worse than before. The spinning was gaining speed and Corrine thought that she was going to pass out soon.

"Corrine," Albus called calmly. "I need you to listen to me."

"I don't know what I'm doing! I didn't mean to!" Even as she spoke the power of the flames was growing. They were hot, hungry flames. The fire called to Corrine, wanting to destroy, burn and kill. The power was there, flowing in her hands. Corrine was terrified at the darkness she knew was inside her.

"I did-didn't m'mean to. I'm sorry, I don't know-" Corrine could barely speak. She was concentrating on keeping the fire from growing as it wanted to.

"I know, Corrine. I understand. You need to make them go out," he said calmly.

"How?" she asked desperately.

"Visualize the fire going out. You can do it, just put them out," he said.

Quietly Corrine closed her eyes. She saw the flames go out in her mind and when she reopened her eyes they were gone. The floor was singed in a circle around her and her mother, who was still crying. Corrine held her, how she wished she could cry, too.

"Corrine." She did not answer him. "Corrine. I am going to get my wand now. I am not going to hurt anyone, do you understand?" asked Dumbledore.

She nodded but did not watch as he retrieved his wand. She didn't know or care what he thought he was doing to Helen. She wanted him gone. Whatever justification he wanted to give her for his actions would just not matter. He had hurt her mother. He had to leave and that would be that. She would spend the rest of her life alone with only her crazy mother and the elf.

"Corrine, are you calm enough to listen to my explanation?" he asked.

"Get out, Al. I never want to see you again," she whispered.

Albus' face hid the hurt of the words. "I was not hurting her, Corrine. The memories were. I meant no harm; I would never intentionally harm Helen. Those memories were well hidden, very deep inside her mind. They were painful to release."

"Then you should have just let them stay there! Who would want to remember that!" She shouted. "Why would you dare make her remember such a thing?"

She could see that Albus regretted terribly what had just transpired. "I can explain, but I think we need to discuss this alone," he said.

"I don't want to be alone with you now. I don't trust you anymore, Al. How could you do such a thing!"

"I understand how this must appear but your mother did give me permission to look into her mind. I would never proceed without that permission, Corrine. Such an act of violation I could not be capable of. Perhaps I am mistaken, it would not be the first time, but this is too important to ignore. There are things she knows, perhaps only she knows, having been closer to Voldemort than any other. I need to know what's in her head."

Corrine didn't care in the slightest. She would not simply let him explain away his actions.

"Minty, a sleeping draught for Helen, if you please," said Albus.

The elf squeaked and disappeared, returning almost instantly with a goblet full of potion. Minty handed it to Corrine. Albus came forward to help but Corrine held out her hand to stop him. "I'll do it," she said. Carefully she tipped the potion into her mother's mouth. Slowly she urged her mother to drink, and only moments later Helen was asleep in the chair.

Corrine would not let Dumbledore help lay her mother down. She and Minty nestled her into her bed and covered her quietly. When she returned to the main room, she was so exhausted she didn't know if she could continue to stand.

Albus was sitting at the long wooden table. The lines of his face seemed deeper and he was bent in a posture of fatigue, something totally out of place in the usually solid old man. A fire in the hearth was crackling and something had been set in the kettle to warm. Corrine did not think it was tea. She could barely manage to walk over to the chair, instantly collapsing in it as she reached it.

Albus walked over to the kettle and poured a mug full of some red-hot liquor for himself and Corrine. He placed it in front of her but she did not drink. A sad smiled crossed Albus' face and he drank for his cup. He did not like that she didn't trust him not to poison her.

Slowly, Corrine drank. It was red wine but not like before. It tasted sweater and buttery. The warm Port burned even worse as she drank it but it felt very good, almost too good.

"I think you should leave, Albus. Whether you meant to or not you were hurting her," she said calmly, putting down her cup.

"I regret very much that any pain was incurred by my actions. Even more so that you were able to witness the memory I released. Can you tell me how much of it you saw?"

"All of it. I saw all of it!" she spat. "How? How come I could see it?"

"I suspect that you were again experiencing the buzzing and dizziness, even through your sleep?" he asked.

Corrine nodded, not wanting to talk to him.

"When you encounter magic of great power, or an object or person effected by great and powerful magic you feel this, I think. You are more sensitive to the emanations left by this kind of magic than most witches and wizards. Very few people are gifted thus."

"Gift," she snorted.

"Yes, Corrine. It is a gift. A gift to be sensitive to magic, and precisely, you are effected most by the remnants of your father's magic. This is why you were so effected tonight. The wand you tried yesterday, the one that bothered you, is the only brother wand to Lord Voldemort's that exists in the world. This gift has passed down through the ages; a true Sensitive is rare in the extreme. It was one of the gifts of Helga Hufflepuff. The line from which you mother descends. The reason that Lord Voldemort chose her for his wife."

The words hung in the room for a while. Corrine didn't know if she could speak. She didn't want this gift whatever it was. She knew that Albus had a purpose for it. He had a purpose for everything. He manipulated everyone and everything like a grand puppeteer. All Corrine knew was that she would not dance to his strings.

"And just what do you want me to do with it?" she asked.

"To help me, Corrine. To help me learn what I must in order to help destroy your father," he said calmly.

"How can I help?" he asked. "I'm just a child."

"For now, perhaps. I have searched throughout the world for the remnants of Lord Voldemort's magic. Looking for traces of him. You would make that endeavor remarkably easier."

"Why would I want to help you after what you did?" she said.

"Because your father is as close to being immortal as any man could ever hope to become. I do not know, but I suspect what he has done. Only your mother may have been witness to it. That is why I search through her memories. If we do not learn more about Lord Voldemort we cannot destroy him."

"Well, you'll have to learn about him another way!" she shouted. "I don't want you to ever do that again, you understand?"

"If that is your wish, I will abide by it. This is your home. I understand that I am only a guest here. A moment ago you asked me to leave and not return, if that is still your desire I will comply. It would hurt me terribly to leave you, but I understand that I have lost your trust. I cannot hope that you would give me the opportunity to regain it."

There was terrible pain in the words as he spoke them. Corrine felt her heart aching, torn apart not able to decide what to do. She was, at eleven years old, the head of the house and had to make the decisions.

"I don't want you to leave, Al," she whispered. Albus smiled and sighed with relief. "But I don't want you to ever do that to her again."

"You have my word, Corrine. I will never attempt to unlock her memories of Lord Voldemort."

Corrine nodded. Deep within her, she knew he spoke the truth. He had, after all, never outright lied to her. She knew whenever someone lied, but Albus was completely honest, even if it did hurt just now. She knew he had truly meant no harm. Voldemort was the one who had caused harm to her mother.

"How could she have killed her own father?" Corrine asked desperately, the images pounding through her eyes. She brought the palms of her hands up to her eyes, pushing on them until she saw stars but the images did not dim.

"She had very little choice, Corrine. Had she refused him, Voldemort and his followers would have no doubt continued to torture him. They would have waited until Helen could obey with such a senseless act of loyalty to your father. Eventually, he would have been killed. Perhaps she saved him from months of torment. At least from that point of view there is some redemption to the act."

Corrine didn't feel like her mother was redeemed from anything. But she could not blame or hate her for what she did. All Corrine felt was pity. Helen mourned terribly after killing her father. Corrine could still feel her mother's suffering. The terrible harms done to her were worse than she could have imagined. Why did her mother love him? Why was she so compelled to follow him? She could not imagine how weak her mother had been to follow such an order.

"Why was she so weak, Albus? How could she obey him?" she asked quietly.

Albus sipped his wine for a moment before responding, forming his answer in his head. "She was beaten down, Corrine. Very often the abused are unable to leave their abusers. It is an unfortunate truth of domestic violence. In effect, she had no will of her own left. He made her feel as though she were nothing, completely nothing without him. All she could be was his tool. She had no will to refuse him. That is, until she knew about you. Try and remember that, my dear. You gave her the strength to leave him, you saved her from a lifetime of torment."

Corrine sat, listening to his words without trying to understand them. Her head was swimming. The night had been traumatic. Every part of her was drained. Magic could indeed be a terrible thing, yet for some insane reason she still wanted to learn it.

"Can we still have another lesson tomorrow?" she asked. Corrine felt very embarrassed about the fire she had conjured. She thought, perhaps, after that he would not want to teach her anymore. Maybe she was destined for evil after all. The fire had pulled her, wanting to burn and destroy. She knew that her father's evil hand would always try and work its way into her life.

"Of course I will teach you, Corrine. For as long as you desire me to do so," he assured her.

Corrine nodded, too exhausted to speak anymore. She took another sip of the wine and before she knew what happened, her head thumped down onto the table and she passed out asleep.