You're Scaring Us
No spells. No curses.
Brooke Scott was a russian doll.
When she was eleven years old, she had made the single best decision in her prepubescent life, and talked to Max Caulfield. She had no doubt that, without Max, so much of her life would be so different.
She’d probably have no friends. Total loner. She probably would’ve been happy to have no friends, too. Less people to bother her. She never would’ve stayed up all night, trying in vain to teach Max and Chloe to be decent at potions. She never would’ve been forced to spend Christmas in the Gryffindor dorms, surrounded by idiots cheering about their presents. She never would’ve had to spend all her saved up money on presents.
She never would’ve worn muggle clothes.
Brooke was a russian doll. She was shells upon shells upon shells, false masks over masks, a puzzle inside a riddle locked in the center of a labyrinth with a mystery on top. And, below everything, was just…
Emptiness.
One day, a long time ago, she’d fallen asleep in one of the chairs in the Gryffindor dorms. She’d stayed up all night with Max and Chloe, studying over their History of Magic notes and managing to learn things about next year’s classes while she helped the blonde - former blonde - straighten out the mess of a notebook she had.
When she’d woken up, she’d been forced to stand and get ready right after for the first time in years. Every step had hurt.
Kate told her that she should smile more.
‘
No spells. No curses.
She sat next to Max when they arrived at the carriage. Rachel and Chloe had gone off on their own - they had friends their own age, anyway. Kate sat across from them, and gave them a wide smile when they entered.
Brooke did her best to hide as far in the corner of the carriage as she could. Two walls to her back. It made her feel less small - being surrounded.
Her hand fisted some of the cloth on her robes.
No spells. No curses.
That’s what Max had said.
Max. The only girl she’d ever spent a Summer with. The one who had first shown her muggle clothes, and made her try them. They were weird. Tight.
She’d looked at herself in the mirror, wearing a white button-up dress shirt tucked into black pants, and felt…
Felt like the person looking back at her wasn’t a stranger.
She’d bought them.
Her parents had burned them, and told her that she wasn’t to wear muggle clothes.
No spells. No curses.
She was a lesbian.
(Her parents had once told her what happened to gay heirs of pureblood families. They either ‘got better…’
Or the parents tried again.)
“Woah - uh, Brooke? Your hands… um…”
Brooke blinked - and glanced down at her curled up fist.
Smoke was gently billowing up from her robes.
She blinked.
“...Hm. Fascinating.”
Kate and Max were both staring at her, with something between worry and confusion, as she reached into her pocket and pulled out her wand.
She fit it into her curled up hand - and thought about her parents. About what they would think when she came out to them.
A gentle flame lit at the end of her wand.
Brooke stood - while Max and Kate both got as far as they could from the open flame.
She began to gently trace the flame through the air with closed eyes, as she thought about the danger she was in. The scorn on their faces. The impossibly sickening feeling in her stomach - like a black hole had opened up there.
About Kate. How beautiful she was in the candlelight, that first time Brooke had seen her in the Great Hall.
She opened her eyes.
Multicolour fumes were crawling along the roof of the carriage, and spilling out the window.
She’d always been good with fire. It had been one of her favorite charms - ‘incendio’. Apparently, though, emotion wasn’t just a gateway to having that memory-like gateway between incantations and that part of your brain that influenced your use of magic - apparently, emotion could pull magic from you all on its own.
Fascinating.
“Brooke - maybe you should stop… whatever you’re doing…” Max muttered, eyes firmly on the flame at the tip of her wand.
She raised an eyebrow at her best friend. “What’s wrong, Max? Not okay with a little danger?”
“I just-”
Brooke cut her off by glancing at Kate - and flicking her wand.
A pink, yellow, and blue flare burst at the tip of her wand. Kate yelped, and Max flinched back.
A sort of sick satisfaction brewed in Brooke’s gut.
Scared, Katherine? So am I. That’s what you make me feel. That’s what you made me into. Look close - and be scared.
She flicked it again. Another bright flare went off, with a sound like a gunshot - purple, pink, and blue this time.
Kate backed as far away as she could. “Brooke - Brooke, please, stop! This is dangerous!”
Max stared at her with wide eyes. “Brooke, you… you’re scaring me.”
Brooke blinked.
Glanced down.
The flame at the edge of her wand was slowly turning a weird, light blue colour.
Suddenly - fear flared in her gut.
She lurched to the door of the carriage - and slammed it open. The cold night air spilled in, and hit her like a slap in the face.
She whipped her wand outside - and a flare of emotion burst in her ribcage. Fear, anger, denial, pain. It all clung to her ribs like sparks and dug into her nerves.
“NOX!”
It was a scream. The spell to put out a light.
It was a scream for help.
The flame shot out from the edge of her wand, and glided through the air for a long, silent moment. Her shout echoed into the fields.
The flame burst into a rainbow of sparks.
No spells. No curses.
It was dead silent in the carriage.