Friends
Amira wanted to sit down. Or run away. Really, she wanted to be anywhere but here. Previously, she had thought her uncle's bedroom had been the place she hated the most. Very quickly, she was realizing that that was a sanctuary compared to the Dark Lord's study.
After the large meeting, he had commanded her and her uncle to follow him while he dismissed everyone else. He had sat behind the desk and made her stand in front of him. He simply looked at her. At one point, she had decided she wasn't going to die looking scared, so she had decided to meet his eyes. She had been looking into red eyes now for at least 20 minutes, keeping her head held high. She felt some magical force pushing at her mind. It couldn't get in. She wasn't doing anything to stop it, but the dark presence was failing to find any entry into her thoughts.
Finally, the Dark Lord looked to her uncle who was standing nervously next to them, wringing his hands.
"Were you aware of her father?"
"No my lord, surely it could not be Dumbledore... my sister-"
"Enough!" the Dark Lord snapped. "I don't care what you have to say."
He looked back at Amira.
"Her father is not Albus Dumbledore," he said, "He has a younger brother. I believe that's who sired her. Your sister, she was quite older than you, yes?"
"Yes my lord, it was unbelievable that she had fallen pregnant at her age," Yaxley explained.
"Yes, it would be. It would also require incredible magic from both parents," the Dark Lord mused. "You thought she was a squib though."
"Yes my lord, she has never once shown any ability to do magic," Yaxley said hurriedly, defending himself, "I tried, endlessly."
"I believe you," the Dark Lord said, raising his hand to stop Yaxley from talking. "You may go."
Yaxley looked between the two of them.
"You will go, Yaxley. Do not make me say it again."
Yaxley hurried out of the room. Amira almost laughed. Her uncle was stressed because if the Dark Lord decided to kill her on his watch, Yaxley was dead too. And the Dark Lord knew it. It would come down to whether or not he cared enough about Yaxley as his servant to spare her life. Clearly, Yaxley wasn't confident.
"Amira." He stated. "Take a seat."
She obeyed smoothly. She ignored the pain the movement caused from her rough treatment the night prior.
"Did you know you weren't a squib?" he asked her. She shook her head. "Interesting. You are guarding your mind from me."
She raised her eyebrows but still didn't speak. She wasn't trying to guard her mind. She didn't even know how to do that.
"I can see that you are honest, you do not know what you are, or what you are doing," he mused. He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms as he observed her. "I am not often surprised, Amira, but you, you are unexpected."
"I apologize," she spoke for the first time.
"I did not say you were unwelcome, just unexpected," he said, "You may prove to be the answer to very many of my problems."
Amira did not particularly enjoy the sound of that. She preferred to keep to herself in the shadows. She didn't want to be a solution to anyone's problems, especially the Dark Lord's. She didn't want his attention at all. Unfortunately, it seemed that she didn't have much of a choice.
"You have a great deal of magic inside of you," he said, "More than most anyone I have encountered. Only under myself, Albus Dumbledore, and very few others. I should kill you."
"Why don't you?" she asked. She didn't know why she was challenging him, it was insane behavior from her. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation. He chuckled, and she hated it.
"I can see that you would prefer that," he said with a smile, "But... I need weapons. And you, my dear, will be my best one."
He stood and went to his bookshelf. "First, we need to unlock that magic inside of you, and then we need to train you. And we will need to do it quickly."
He flipped through the pages quickly.
"Why your magic is locked, I do not know," he said, "You can interact with magical objects, yes?"
She nodded.
"You can use magical transportation?"
She nodded.
There was a pause.
"Can you sense magic?"
She paused before she nodded. He cast a spell at the chair next to her.
"Tell me what you feel."
She took a deep breath and decided it was in her best interest to be honest. She didn't know enough about what was going on to lie. "It is cold. It is prickly, and it is heavy. Very heavy."
"Very good," he breathed, "You can really feel it. Remarkable."
He rifled through pages again, looking like the insane madman that the stories painted him out to be. He glided back to his chair. He sat there reading for a long time. Every once and awhile, he pointed his wand at her to test something. She always braced herself, but it was never more than the barest touches of magic that engulfed her.
He sat back.
"Did you experience great pain when you were young?" he asked. She stared at him.
"Pardon?" she dared.
"When you were young, was there great physical pain inflicted on you?" he asked. Amira thought about the beatings and the punishments. She didn't know if that counted.
"Your uncle was, and is not kind to you," he stated. She didn't react. "You need not answer, the truth is clear."
"I will explain this to you only once, so pay attention," he said. "This is my theory. Your parents were extremely strong magical individuals. I know this, having interacted with both of them. They were also old. Magic herself would have haad to step in for you to be a possibility. That is why you hold so much inside you. There would have also been a cost. Such magic could not possibly be stable. Additionally, the Dumbledore's already have a history of unstable magic, especially in females. This combination would lead quickly to a fractured mind, body, and soul. You would have died young. You shouldn't be here. However, to deal with the abuse you sustained, you learned to shrink into yourself. It blocked the magic from you, and forced it into a box. It has been growing while it lay dormant. And the more abuse you have endured, the more it has grown inside of you, and compacted itself further."
"Had the abuse stopped, it probably would've grown lax, and exploded out of you. Again, you would have died, or your mind would have broken at the very least. Or maybe not. We'll never know. That's not important now. What is important is how we are going to unleash you."
He sat back. Amira's mind whirled trying to process all of the information.
"A few things concern me. First, the backlash and destruction that this will surely cause. Secondly, is if your magic will be at all tameable because you are already fifteen years of age. And thirdly, is if you are going to be sane in any way after we do this. I can deal with insanity in my people as long as it is tameable and you are functional. If not, I will strap you to a table for the rest of your life and channel your magic into something else. I would not like to do this, but I will not waste your magic in the case that you cannot use it," he said, "You are much more useful to me, if you can make decisions on your own."
"You may go, for the time being, I will call you back tonight," he said finally, "I will push back the Azkaban escape until we deal with you. You are much more important to me than anything else now."
With that chilling statement, Amira stood, and left his study in shock. Before she could quite exit the room, she heard.
“One more thing.”
She paused and turned.
“I may not be able to see in your mind but I do know that you would not side with me by choice. I do not care what cause you support,” he said, “You are mine now. You cannot escape, so you should accept it, and make things easier for yourself.”
She simply stared back at him until he nodded, signaling she could go.
It was all too much to process. She didn't even know where to start.
She made her way to the garden and dove into her hiding spot as fast as she could. Her breath was coming quickly, and her vision was spinning. Blood was roaring through her ears and her chest pounded painfully. She curled in a ball and squeezed her eyes shut and covered her ears. Her thoughts rotated at light speed between magic, the Dark Lord, magic, her father, Yaxley, magic, the abuse, magic, the Dark Lord, insanity, and most of all magic. She had magic. She wasn't a squib. She wasn't sure if this was real, or if this was a cruel prank. Just days ago, or less, she had told Draco she didn't wish for magic. That had been honest. She didn't want it. She'd never allowed herself to want it, not since she was young anyways. There had been no point.
Now, she had magic. Well, it was still locked away, but she had magic. And she didn't have a choice on if she wanted it or not. The Dark Lord was going to give it to her, no matter what cost it might have on her mind. Amira knew she had issues already. She was too shy, afraid of people, and more. But she wasn't crazy. She wanted to remain that way. Her mind was all she had. Her body wasn't hers. She didn't have magic. She had her mind. And the Dark Lord was going to risk it to make her a weapon.
Beyond that, she didn't want to be on the Dark side. Before, she'd been a bystander without a choice. She couldn't choose a side, even if she had wanted to. Now, with magic, she was going to be forced onto the Dark Side and carry out horrible tasks to better the Dark Lord. Amira wanted to scream. She didn't want to be on the Light side, she didn't want to be on the Dark. She didn't want magic at all. She wanted to fade back into the shadows and live the life she had been living even twelve hours ago.
Amira unlocked her body slightly and stretched. She couldn't believe she was wishing for the horrors that her uncle inflicted on her. Last night was especially bad. Amira did wonder if there would be an end to those activities now. It would be a relief. Maybe enough to make it slightly more worth the stress that was to come. She was sure Yaxley would be furious about this. If he was smart, he would take the role of "proud uncle" and profit from her success. She would try to prevent any benefit to him. He was a horrible and cruel man, and she didn't want anything good to come to him.
It felt like a sick and twisted joke that his abuse is possibly what had hid her magic from her. He had hurt her so badly, so young, that he had made her a shell of who she was supposed to be. She was going to choose to ignore that her magic might have made her insane if she'd had it. She didn't care. He'd had no right to take it from her. She could have gone to Hogwarts. She could have had friends. She could have been a witch, her entire life.
She couldn't even comprehend that her father was Aberforth Dumbledore. The brother of Albus Dumbledore. Leader of the Light. She'd always wondered about her father, but she'd always imagined he was some hidden nobody whom her mother had an affair with. She supposed that Aberforth wasn't super well known, she hadn't known he existed. But his last name, her last name, was incredibly famous. She wasn't blind to the fact that the Dark Lord would be broadcasting that he had a Dumbledore on his side. It would be a huge power move for him, and he would exploit it. Just as he was going to exploit her, and her magic, however he could.
He was a scary man, the rumors were true. She understood why she always saw Death Eaters looking pale and shaken before and after meetings with him. But she was slightly disappointed. He hadn't lived up to the rumors of him being almost a godly being. He was just a man. A monster too. But a man. He was insane. That's where the uncanny and unsafe feelings came from. His face was serpentine, and his eyes were red, but he was still just a man. He was strong, cunning, manipulative, cruel, and powerful. But he had weaknesses, like they all did. He was rushed, egotistical, suspicious, and alone. He was alone, despite everyone surrounding him. He didn't truly trust anyone. Much like her. And he was moving too fast, too sure of his own strength and his own resources. He was going to make a mistake, if he wasn't making them already. Amira was shocked that no one else saw it.
Even that day, he had flipped his plans so abruptly that she was left questioning the importance of them in the first place. How could she, a girl with an unknown amount of power and an unknown ability to control it, paired with a questionable mental stability and no training, take priority over rescuing his closest advisors and strongest fighters? It shouldn't, but he was making the decision that it did. And it was a mistake. He was taking a huge gamble on her. And in doing so, he was showing everyone else that he didn't care about his followers, strength, or stability. He only cared about weapons. In the end, the risk might not pay off at all. It was as if he wasn't even thinking about it. It was as if he thought he was invincible. No one was.
Draco paced around his room worriedly. Amira was dead. He was sure of it. As soon as his red eyes had landed on her, her fate had been sealed. Draco shouldn't care. She was just a squib, or not a squib now. Maybe that changed things. It probably didn't. Still, she should've meant nothing to him. She did mean nothing to him. But he was worried about her. So extremely worried.
Being taken to the Dark Lord's study alone wasn't good. His face had been unreadable. She had a lot of power, apparently. That was going to be seen as a threat. And it was messing with whatever ritual he was trying to do. He was most likely going to kill her. If he didn't, that wasn't good either. She had pain in store for her. Draco hoped she knew enough about the Dark Lord to avoid stepping out of line or being accidentally disrespectful. He wasn't sure if Yaxley had ever discussed proper etiquette with her. She looked at her feet anyways, that was good, and she was quiet. But did she know when to bow? When he expected an answer and when he didn't?
Then a cold chill ran through him. Her mind wasn't guarded. And they'd had conversations that could surely land Draco in a lot of trouble. If he saw her musings about Draco and his true character, Draco was screwed. Maybe he'd write them off as a boring day dream, maybe he wouldn't look at them at all. But if he did-
Draco didn't want to think about that anymore. There wasn't anything he could do. He would just have to wait and hope for the best.
Draco sat down on the ledge next to his big window that looked out over the grounds. He often read books here, or did summer homework. He sighed as he looked out over his mother's flower garden. His thoughts continued to race for an unknown amount of time until he noticed movement in the garden beneath him. Amira.
She darted out and into the garden, before veering off into a covered path. Draco waited for her to come out the other side, but she didn't. Maybe there was a hidden nook there that he wasn't aware of. He tended to only stick to his, there could be many more.
Draco felt an overwhelming sense of relief at seeing that she was still alive. He had thought for sure she was dead. And that would have been more upsetting to him than it should have been. He found himself standing and heading out of his door. He was going downstairs to check on her. Partially, he was nosy, and he wanted to know what had happened. Mostly though, he was worried about her, and he wanted to check in. She'd been through a lot in the last twenty four hours. And she was alone.
He tried to remember where she'd gone, and followed the path. He ended up walking in an entire loop, and did not find her. He tried another path, to end up with the same result. He raised an eyebrow. She would've had to come out of the entrance if she'd already left the garden, and he would've seen, or heard her. She was hiding somewhere. Draco debated leaving. Clearly she wanted to be alone, and she was upset. But he was worried about her. Extremely so. He teetered between leaving and continuing his search for a few seconds more before he took a seat on the bench that they normally talked at. If she wanted to talk, she would know he was there, but she could also leave without having to speak with him.
He sat and waited patiently as the day passed. He practiced his meditation and Occlumency exercises. He was becoming quite good at them, and had finished the entirety of the book his aunt had given him. It wasn't hard anymore. He was starting to build his wall. It had started as a thin sheet. More of a curtain than a true wall. Now, it was as thick as a few boards of wood. It would be broken easily, but it grew thicker every time he practiced. It was almost easy, and Draco pushed himself harder and harder every day. He was starting to experiment with placing a few chosen memories in front of the wall as well, but that made his wall reduce back down to its curtain state. Still, he was proud of himself.
A rustling disturbed him around mid afternoon. He looked up and saw Amira approaching from a path. He stopped his exercises and looked at her as she came to sit next to him. She looked more uncertain than she had since they'd first met.
"You're alive," Draco said dryly to break the tension. She nodded.
"Unfortunately," she muttered. Draco raised his eyebrow.
"What happened?" he asked carefully. He wanted to know desperately, but more than that, he wanted to be sure that she was okay. He didn't know where this protective streak in him was coming from. They'd only begun conversing last week. He didn't know her, not really. He now knew what she had been through, but he didn't know her. Still, he was invested in her.
Amira opened her mouth for a moment, and then shut it. She shrugged.
"I don't even know," she said, her voice cracking. Draco's concern doubled. She sighed. "I have magic, apparently."
"I gathered," Draco nodded, "What did he mean when he said you were a Dumbledore?"
"That I'm a Dumbledore," she said lamely, "My father, my real one, he... he's Aberforth Dumbledore."
"Aberforth?" Draco asked. The name sounded familiar, but the only Dumbledore he knew of was the headmaster.
"Albus Dumbledore's younger brother," she explained.
"Aren't the Dumbledores... old?" Draco asked. She chuckled without humor.
"Yeah, too old to have kids, even fifteen years ago," she said, "That's a part of it."
"I don't understand," Draco admitted.
"Apparently, my mother and father wouldn't have been able to conceive without magic, due to their age," she said, "Which is why I have so much magic."
"But you don't?" Draco asked. He wasn't trying to be rude, but if she was a squib, or even had appeared as one, her and the Dark Lord's recent claims that she had so much magic didn't make any sense.
"It's locked away," she said, "I don't fully understand it. Apparently... Dumbledore magic has a history of being unstable. So... my body protected me and kept it away? I don't know."
They sat in silence as Draco pondered that. It wasn't unthinkable. The magic and the mind and the body were very linked, and worked in mysterious ways sometimes. What was more wild was that Yaxley's sister had been in an affair with a Dumbledore.
"He didn't kill you for this?" Draco asked. It was surprising, if she had so much magic and she was related to the leader of the light, death was almost certain when it came to the Dark Lord.
"No," she said, "He... he wants to use me as a weapon."
"A weapon? How?' Draco asked. Dread curled in his stomach.
"Well, he's going to figure out how to unlock my magic, and if I'm still sane after that, he wants me to fight for him," she explained, "And I don't doubt he'll be announcing to the world who my father is."
"Political weapon as well," Draco concurred, "What do you mean if you're still sane?"
She shrugged, "It's not going to be easy, and if my magic was unstable in the first place then.... there's going to be side effects."
"What is he going to do if it does make you.... unstable?" Draco tried to say politely. He didn't want to scare her even more. He would be terrified to be in her position. If he thought he didn't have many choices, she really didn't have any. And, at least he had his mother, and hopefully his father soon, to look out for him and do what they could to protect him. She had no one.
"Strap me to a table and siphon my magic," she said in such a matter-of-fact tone that he thought she must have been joking. One look to the side told him that she was being completely serious.
"That's...." he trailed off. He couldn't think of anything that he could say that would make it better.
"He told me that I didn't have a choice, and that I would be fighting for him, whether I wanted to or not," she said.
"You told him you didn't want to?" Draco asked in alarm. No one told the Dark Lord no. She shook her head. "He read your mind then?"
"No, he tried to, but apparently I'm blocking him out," she said. Draco felt immense relief and also confusion.
"You can do Occlumency?" he asked.
"No, I don't know, I guess?" she said, "I'm not trying to, it's happening on its own."
"Must be nice," Draco muttered.
"Yes, it more than makes up for everything else," she muttered.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
"It's fine," she assured him, "I just don't know what to make of it all."
Draco didn't know either. All of that was surely too much for one person to handle.
"...Well, at least you'll get to experience what it's like to have magic," Draco tried. "I know you mentioned you didn't wish for it... but still."
She nodded, "I don't even know what I would do with it."
"Whatever you want," Draco said, "That's the amazing thing, if you're willing to work hard enough, you can do whatever you want."
She looked at him. "I think... that's true even without magic."
He thought about it. "I suppose so. It's harder though."
"There's limits of course," she added.
"Limits of what's reasonable," he corrected, "Technically... you could do anything."
"So why don't you?" she asked, turning to him. He was shocked by the abrupt turn.
"I can't-" he cut himself off, not wanting to get defensive or offended with her, "It's not reasonable."
"Right now," she said quietly, "It's not reasonable to do what you wish while he's here in your house and your father is in prison."
"It's not reasonable for me to go against the only side I agree with," he said in a low tone.
"Fair," she said, "I have a choice too, I suppose."
"Do you?" he asked. It didn't seem like it.
"Yes, willingly work with the Dark Lord, or be forced to comply," she said. "I can choose."
"That doesn't sound like a choice," he said sadly, "You still have to work with him."
"For now," she amended, "Yes."
Then she sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Draco took his chance to look at her face while her dark hair wasn't falling over it. Her eyes, they were so clearly from her father. The piercing blue color was so unique that Draco was shocked that he hadn't put it together before. Her hair, it was from her mother, the Dumbledore's didn't have such dark hair. Her features, it was hard to say. Draco hadn't seen many pictures of female Yaxleys or Dumbledores. Before he could look at her further, her hair fell down and covered most of what he could see. She hugged her arms around herself.
"I just want to run away," she whispered, "I always have... but now... I should've done it when I had the chance."
Draco felt his heart pang for just a moment. Of course she'd always wanted to. She'd been abused her entire life. And now, she was only being pulled further into the snake pit. It was a world that she didn't know.
Draco reached an arm out and gently touched her shoulder, not knowing what was compelling him to do so. She flinched slightly and Draco cursed himself mentally for the lack of thought. She obviously wouldn't want to be touched. He kept his hand light, and tried to be comforting.
"It will be alright," he said softly, "If he hasn't killed you yet, he won't."
"That's not what I'm afraid of," she said, relaxing a bit.
"No, but it's something," he said, "I can try to help you, where I can."
"Why?"
"You don't deserve this," he said. He was referring to more than just their current conversation. He was referring to her entire life and the abuse and neglect that she had sustained, but of course she didn't know that. "I will help you get through this."
She looked up into his eyes. Draco held his breath as he took in the brilliant blue.
"You mean that," she breathed, "I don't understand why."
"Me either," he admitted, then cleared his throat, "I might not be able to do much. But it might help... to know that you aren't alone. I can be.... a friend."
"I've never had a friend before," she said, looking down and breaking eye contact.
"Well, you do now," he said more confidently than he felt. He tried to regain his haughty composure, "And it goes both ways. If I need help..."
"I will help you," she said with a smile and the ghost of a laugh.
"Alright then," he said. He dropped his hand when he realized it was still placed on her. He mourned the loss of her warmth.
"I won't be a very good friend if I go mental," she said. Then she giggled. "Sorry, I'm sorry, it's not funny."
She kept giggling. Draco felt an incredulous smile tugging at his lips.
"It's not funny," he said, feeling a contagious laugh bubbling up in him as well.
"It's just..." she broke into hysterical laughter, and Draco could not contain his any longer.
"You're already mad," he chuckled. She nodded and covered her mouth.
"I am," she agreed, gasping though her laugh. The pair laughed for a second longer. It was hysterical and it didn't make sense. In fact the thoughts were quite serious and dark. They were laughing to cope. And laughing in relief at finally having a friend to share their situation and relate to. Eventually, reality came crashing back down and their laughter stopped and turned into solemn stares at the flowers in front of them.
"All will be well," Draco said, copying his mother's words that he'd heard so many times throughout his life.
"I hope so," she murmured. Then she flinched. "My bracelet."
She stood to go back inside. Draco's stomach clenched. Her uncle was calling on her. Draco knew that could only mean one of two things. He wanted to use her, or the Dark Lord had come up with a solution. Neither were ideal. Draco wanted her to stay in the garden with him for a long time. It was safe out here. They could be teenagers here.
"Good luck," he said quietly. She nodded, and left him in the garden by himself. Draco sat for a half hour longer, and then wandered in as well. It was good, he ran into his mother almost immediately.
"Draco, I was looking for you," she said quickly, "The Dark Lord has called us all to return to him."
Draco swallowed. He put up the walls in his mind and followed his mother to the grand dining room.