It's All Right

"They annoy me, those who employ me, they could destroy me, they should enjoy me" The Servant - Cells

I arrived in Hogwarts after Voldemort's rise became publicly known. Since I had been working for the Ministry in Brazil, Egypt, Algeria, and Japan, I only learnt about it in the Daily Prophet. I thought I had been lucky: had I been in England, I would be dead or working for Voldemort himself.

But the time to hide was gone, it was time to unite all forces and start to fight back. Because of my abilities, I was an asset, and I knew it. You see, there are many Aura Readers, but I am probably the most powerful of them all. My readings are flawless, I am always right.

Doesn't that sound extremely conceited? Oh, well. I had experience to prove my abilities, and I was confident people trusted me: after all, the Ministry wouldn't have been sending me all over the world if they hadn't trusted me at least a little.

So they called me back. But the calling was different from all those I had experienced while working with those blinkered bureaucrats. It was not a long letter with lots of authorizations to sign, copies to keep, and so on... It was just a short paper.

The urgency I felt in the tone made me understand that things had changed. Our leaders were not the same. Oh, of course, it was still Fudge's name on the paper, but someone else had whispered the words in his ear, I was sure of that. Someone else was pulling the strings. So I did not wait for further biding, I packed, took my broom, and left for Hogwarts.

I got lost in the way. Nooo, I am not very proud of that, but you want to know what happened, right? So take some Pop-Corn, get in your seat, and listen silently. You know I am not a very powerful witch. I mean, with all this Aura-reading crap and my flying skills, one could think I am good at throwing curses here and there... Pfff. I never studied in Hogwarts, because I wasn't powerful enough. I couldn't even spell Lumos to save my life. I'm almost a Squib.

So after many adventures, which I won't tell you since you're having way too much fun, I arrived in Hogwarts. Dumbledore instantly spared some time for me, and the first thing I noticed about him is that I could not read him. He was an Occlumens. I had heard so much about the man that it frustrated me, I admit. I mean, I was dying to know what was in his mind...

He told me he wanted me to Read all the students and the staff, and point any person who might be a danger or an asset to the Cause. I swear, he managed to say "Cause" like that, with a capital 'c'.

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She walks in the corridor, contemplating her feet and thinking hard. One week or hard work in Hogwarts, and already most of the students have been figured out. Most of the staff, too. She did not rest, Reading even the Elves, the Ghosts, Goblins and Filch's cat. She hasn't slept much, definitely not enough. But there is a war coming, so no whining, let's brace ourselves and do what we can - must.

She trips on her lack of sleep. No, there was nothing on the floor, her legs just don't answer anymore. She leans over the wall, and slides down on the floor. She is going to stay here for a little while, sitting in the middle of the corridor, and think a bit more.

There is something more annoying than her exhaustion, it's the students' hostility. Somehow, they figured out what she was doing here, and each time she comes in a room, they leave it, muttering under their breaths. Their attitude is deliberately insulting without being offensive, and there is nothing she can do - except submit, and wait. They'll get tired. They'll see it's irrelevant. They'll see that when you're fighting a war, you can't stay innocent, no matter which side you're on.

For example, she sensed that Potter hates Dumbledore, for having used him. Oh, how she wants to shake some sense into the little brat! What would he do, were he in Dumbledore's place? Did he forget that the man was human?

Deciding to set camp in the corridor, she lights a cigarette. These teenagers are just so delusional. They'd even try to talk Voldemort into being good again! They'd call Dumbledore a Wizard Hitler for fighting against the evil guy with every means available! Don't they know that the main principle of a war is that both sides lose? Aren't they going to grow up?

She senses a surprised glance. She looks up, a student is here, one she never Read.

The student walks away before she can Read him further. Hmh. Interesting. What kind of student would think mainly about death? Strangely enough, she needs to fight the impulse to run after him, and rock him. Comfort him. It's all right, you know. Lie. It's going to be all right. I promise.

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She talked to many Professors, to know who the kid thinking about death was. She is morbidly intrigued. And this is why she stands out of that Slytherin Prefect room now, raising her hand and knocking at the door.

The young boy opens his door, a wave of self-hatred hits her hard in the face. He has his wand in his hand, and he's ready to strike. He doesn't say anything, though, when he sees her. He just closes the door in her face.

She opens it, this time without warning, and he seems about to tell her to go get lost, but she speaks first. "Are you planning to kill yourself?"

He starts. She is happy she could get a reaction out of him.

His thinking pattern is so shattered... He clearly is needing a lot of help. He seems so confused.

One short instant, it looks like he is going to be angry at her, but he just sits down on his bed. "It doesn't matter."

One thing she knows is that nothing should be useless. Yes, maybe that's cruel, but she sits down next to him. "If you're so willing to die, you should make your death worth it."

He doesn't answer, but he knows she just has to Read his Aura. And then, he laughs softly. "I was expecting something more along the lines of - But life is beauuutiful!"

She laughs softly too. "But life is beauuutiful. Only not for everybody."

His eyes are blank. There is no more will. Total submission has his face. "So what do you want me to do?"

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Sometimes, it's just like that. People stop believing that something good can still happen. Most of the time, suicides are just a call for help. She knows that. If he was calling for help, she would never have said that. She would have hugged him, told him it would be all right, and lied. She did that many times already. She is a professional.

Both of her hands are holding the sink. The mirror shows her how she looks like, with red eyes, tears streaming down her face, hair messy and runny nose. The boy's curse is his despair, he is positive that this world holds no second chance for him. He showed her the tatoo on his arm, snake and skull tangled, and she bit her lips.

Her curse is that mirror. She hates it. When you feel what people feel, you are not unique anymore. You reflect. Malfoy's despair is getting at her, more and more.

She takes a tissue, blows her nose.

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I know you understand, and for that I a more than grateful. I could never convince him to stay alive. He was too messed up. No one could have saved him. I Read it. I swear. The only thing I did is to show him that he could go as a Khamikaze. I gave a meaning to his death.

I told him about Japan, and their traditions, and he listened to me carefully. Sometimes his feelings were too strong, and I had to stop talking to him before my head would explode and I'd go with him. Was I feeling it, or was he feeling it for me? It's eating me alive. Who was feeling despair? He was, yes. But me? Was I only reflecting?

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He attended the Death Eaters meetings, like a good puppet he'd always been and still was, was - of course - thrown out of Hogwarts, and I went on with my life and my job.

However, doubts were visiting me by night time through nightmares. You remember, the first time we were together? How I woke up screaming my lungs out? It was a regular occurence.

A month after he was thrown out of the school, we heard the news. In the middle of a Death Eater meeting, one of them cast a spell, killing, along with himself, half of the wizards and witches present that night. I knew that it was him. thanks to him, Voldemort was weaker, leaving little to do for Potter, who got rid of him quite easily the summer after.

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People could go on with their lives. All was well again.

Except for me: the harm was done. Had I been mirroring him or feeling for myself?

If I had been feeling despair, and got out of it, you know what that means. It means that I killed Malfoy for the Cause. I didn't help him get out of a despair that - wrongly - I thought ineluctable.

I should have lied to him, tell him it would be all right.

Please, can you do that for me?

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In the dark, a silhouette embraces another, rocks her gently, and murmurs: "It's all right. I promise."