A Measure of Danger

I've learned that you can get used to danger. Or at least, to the idea of putting yourself in danger. Isn't that odd?

Of course, I'm a magizoologist, so it comes with the job, really. There are always risks, but you can't let yourself be too worried by them if you want to discover creatures unknown to wizardkind, can you? After all, most of the magical beasts I try to meet like to hide themselves away, so it's only fair if they defend themselves when you surprise them. I still have a scar from where a Razor-Tailed Mousedog lashed out at me when I accidentally trod on him one day near Xunhua, but we made friends eventually. And some creatures can be really dangerous - you should never go looking for the Flickering Moonbat of the Andes without proper neck protection.

But I never thought of myself as brave, not really. Not like Harry. I always knew he was a hero, of course - I thought it was so brave of him to fight You-Know-Who ... oh, we can call him Voldemort now, can't we? Even after all this time I keep forgetting! And Harry seemed surprisingly nice when I first met him, not at all like the things the Ministry said about him. And I always thought Dad was terribly brave, too, to defy the wrath of the Ministry and tell the public what they needed to know, all the things the Daily Prophet wouldn't tell them. Because ridicule hurts too, you know. They both did it because they believed they were right.

But I suppose it's a sign of growing up when you realise that your parents can be wrong, isn't it?

I don't mean Dad was wrong about that. He was right about a lot of things, he really was. (If you've got the latest edition of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, you can read all about the Blibbering Humdinger, there's a picture on page 26.) But eventually I realised that he might have been wrong about some things. Like the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, for example - I've never found one. Or he might have been right, of course - lots of people do claim to have seen one. I think it's important to keep an open mind about things.

Well, about most things. Things that are just a matter of yes or no, like whether those people did see a Snorkack. Not things that are a matter of right and wrong, like the things that happened in the war. Not things like standing up to the Death Eaters. Not things like supporting my friends.

Because that was when I first realised Dad could be wrong, you see. It's rather sad, really.

I was so proud of him when he published Harry's interview, after the Prophet kept printing lies about him. He was so proud of me for helping my friends - both when we all went to the Department of Mysteries to try to save Stubby Boardman, and when they needed people to rally round the night Professor Dumbledore was murdered (although we know now that poor Professor Snape didn't mean it). But when I look back now, I can see how scared he was, scared that he might have lost me the way he lost Mum. I can understand now why he was so terrified when I was kidnapped - that was horrible, of course, and I feel so sorry for Daddy, but what he did about it was simply wrong.

Mum would have understood. She didn't really believe in all the things that Dad did - sometimes I think she didn't believe most of them, actually - but she loved to see him stand up against the Ministry anyway, because he believed in it. I know she believed that you have to let your loved ones decide their own risks - even children, once they know what they're getting into. She'd have been worried by what I did too, she'd have been worried by what I do now, but she'd understand - she knew she had to take chances in her work in order to find new things, just like I do.

I wish her last experiment hadn't gone wrong, of course, but it was right for her to try, because that's what she did. And I wish I hadn't been kidnapped during the war because of what Dad printed, but it was right for him to print it, because that's what he did. There were more important things than me, there really were. Helping Harry. Getting the truth out. Letting everyone know that there were still people resisting the Death Eaters. I understand why he tried to give Harry, Ron and Hermione over to them, but he should still have known that I wouldn't have wanted him to. Because it was wrong.

I didn't know about it for a long while, actually. I knew Dad had been taken to Azkaban, but I thought it was because of The Quibbler. I was sad and worried, of course, but really proud of him too. I was so horribly disappointed when Hermione finally told me what had happened at home that day they visited. (Although I'm glad the news never got out generally. Dad didn't deserve to lose his reputation for one mistake.)

Because although I knew Dad was opposed to You-Know-Who, and he didn't trust the Ministry (isn't it funny how things have changed? I trust it so much more now my friends are in charge, because I know I can trust them) - I didn't support Harry at the DA because of that. I didn't even go along to the meetings because I had no friends, although of course I didn't at the time. I went because it was the right thing to do. Just like in the war, it was the right thing to do to help Ginny and Neville with the DA when we went back to school without Harry, or to help poor Mr Ollivander when we were held prisoner, or to go back to Hogwarts to fight in the battle.

And if Dad was too scared of what might happen to be proud of me ... well, it was still the right thing to do. I know I might feel the same way as he did when I have children; I suppose that's why I can't really be too angry with him. But I hope I'll let them find their own path, like Mum. Parents have to learn from their children too. Although of course I hope my children won't have to face the same sort of dangers I did, because it was all rather horrible, really.

Don't think I didn't know it was dangerous. Of course I did. People sometimes seem to think I'm not very practical, but honestly, when I thought about going to do all the things I did in the war, obviously I had to face the possibility that I might not come back! But once I'd decided I should do them because they were the right things to do - well, it was settled then, wasn't it? There really wasn't any good reason to go back and change my mind.

There are some things even I don't want to keep an open mind about, because they're a matter of right and wrong.

And you know, learning that you can get used to danger - or at least, to the idea of putting yourself in danger - turns out to have really helped me in my career. Isn't that odd?

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Notes: Originally written for Femgenficathon 2007 on Livejournal for the prompt: "Of course I realized there was a measure of danger. Obviously I faced the possibility of not returning when first I considered going. Once faced and settled there really wasn't any good reason to refer to it". -- Amelia Earhart. Many thanks to and for looking this over before posting and making helpful suggestions.