Chapter 3
DORCAS MEADOWES POV
Dorcas is running. She doesn’t know where she’s going, but she is running and running and running away. Anywhere, just anywhere away from her old best friends that are supposed to be dead, but they weren’t, so she killed them again, and they came back again and-
She needs to calm down. She trips again,and she doesn’t keep running this time. Dorcas props herself up against the nearest tree, and she gathers her breath, and with all her might, she screams.
She screams until her throat is raw and all her mind-numbing anger has evaporated into only misery.
Marlene.
Marlene, Marlene, Marlene.
She’s dead.
Marlene is dead.
When Dorcas first heard this (a patronus from Albus Dumbledore, at that) she immediately cleared a warpath to Voldemort. She killed and she injured and she tortured, and all that she did was done right back at her. Dorcas killed body after body and felt no remorse because Marlene is dead. And she put up a damn good fight with Voldemort- but she was already weakened and bleeding and no matter how horrible Voldemort is, he’s still powerful.
If Dorcas survived Voldemort, she thinks she’d have gone after Dumbledore next. Dumbledore, who inspired Marlene to get herself killed in her own blasted home. All her lovely family, her aunts who were staying with them, even her 9 year old brother, all dead.
For the greater good, Dumbledore would surely say.
But there is no greater good than Marlene.
Dorcas feels like her sun exploded. Marlene, her lovely Magnolia. Dorcas was born to be resistant to her burning, but Marlene’s beauty can still blind. Marlene, who is the creator of all things beautiful, who Dorcas’ life is dependent on. Marlene died in a fiery burst of violence and Dorcas was decimated completely.
Her Magnolia, the dead star. Dorcas, her adoring planet.
When she was in that… place, the first thing Dorcas remembered was Marlene. And then she woke up and saw her friends two Death Eaters and was once again blinded with rage.
It was… harder to kill them than she thought it would be. Dorcas didn’t have to see the faces of those people she killed before, they were just bodies responsible for her sweet Magnolia’s death. Dorcas didn’t have a past with them like she did Reg and Evan.
She hit Evan with a Bombarda Maxima before he even woke up. She was just so angry, so furious, and Evan was a Death Eater. He was a murderer, too.
But now it’s done and she doesn’t see herself having avenged Marlene, she just sees herself having killed her friend. The pieces of him were splattered all over her. Dorcas was hyperventilating when she worked up the courage to kill Regulus.
His murder was less motivated by anger than it was by obligation. No matter that Dorcas was going to kill Dumbledore, she is still an Order member. Reg is still a Death Eater.
She even gave him an out. But he didn’t take it. Reggie was just looking at her with such a sad look in his eyes.
And then… some child came along. Dorcas has started questioning that maybe she’s going completely fucking insane and hallucinating her dead friend’s faces on random people and proceeding to murder them. Or maybe this is her personal hell, repeatedly killing and killing until everyone she loves has been dead by her hand a thousand times over.
Dorcas wonder if she’s comparable to Barty now. Evan is obviously Barty’s bestfriend, has been since they met and will be until they die, but Barty was always hers. Until she met Marlene, obviously. Marlene is everything to her, a lover and bestfriend barely scratching the surface.
Regulus being confirmed dead was the last straw for Barty, Dorcas thinks. He came to her and Marlene’s flat to be comforted but Dorcas…
“He was a Death Eater. Probably deserved it.”
She should never have said that.
Dorcas falls asleep in tears and she dreams.
She dreams of a Barty before the madness took hold.
She dreams of her sweet Magnolia.
And she dreams of corpses begging her to stop.
—
HARRY POTTER POV
Harry keeps his eyes glued to the map the twins gave him as he stumbles his way to the kitchen. He’s just… he doesn’t know. He can’t parse through any of this. Back at the Dursleys’, he was always on high alert and there wasn’t any space for feelings other than fear.
But now… he feels safe. No, not safe, Harry just gets quick bouts of safety and then is left feeling 10 times more paranoid. And now it’s not just residual from the Dursleys, it’s also the blasted dark lord that’s after him! And his godfather that’s also after him. And the real risk of goddamned basilisks, which, even in the wizarding world, are not supposed to be real! Let alone be in a school full of children!
Harry just feels like any of them will just pop up behind him, at any moment. He’s laughing with his friends one moment, and then someone drops a glass and he braces to get thrown in a cupboard or accused as Slytherin’s heir or something. It’s not just the flinching and the accidental magic either, it’s the shame and anger at himself for forgetting because he can’t do that. He can’t afford to do that.
Being with the elves doesn’t make him feel better per se, but they distract him. Making food has bad memories involved but if he puts those behind a wall until he doesn’t remember them, it’s just a familiar routine. And anyway, he’s allowed to make food just for himself in the kitchens, even if the elves always appreciate an extra hand in making the Hogwarts feast. The slytherin common room is alright but it’s always so quiet. Unless Draco is yammering on, of course, but even he has a life other than annoying people.
The quiet just reminds him of his cupboard, stifling and waiting for the door to be kicked open any moment. Harry can’t filter out his fear in there, and he’s so much more on guard. And people notice. Of course they do. Even Theo, guarded as he is, lended him a book (which is equivalent to anyone else cooing at you saying you’re “just so tough, really, so tough” and pinching your cheeks). The silence there is terrifying and, more importantly, results in embarrassment.
He sighs, tickling the pears in the fruit bowl painting. Stepping in, he smiles at the increase of temperature and noise.
“Mr. Potter sir, Lottie would love some helps for breakfast feast, yes yes,” he pushes Harry towards one of the tables with swiftly working elves, “yes, Mr. Potter helps with the sweets, Mr. Potter makes the pastries, yes,” Lottie quickly pops away, leaving Harry to the mindless and easy task of kneading dough.
“Hello, Harry.”
Harry jumps back and yelps, turning to the voice. “Luna! What are you doing here?”
“My uncle and godfather are very sad in the woods right now,” she says, which Harry thinks really explains nothing.
“The woods again, Luna?” He asks, deciding to deal with the shame of not noticing her later. That could’ve gotten him knocked out if it was Dudley. “Are you at least using the invisibility cloak then?” Harry questions, exasperated. He’s been lending her the invisibility cloak because if he can’t stop her from going to the forbidden forest, he might as well help her.
Luna nods, looking somewhere to the left of the dough she’s kneading. “And my auntie too, if her wrackspurts have left when she comes back.” She frowns. “They all have so many wrackspurts. I’ll ask Death if that’s an after effect of resurrection.”
Harry traces this doubly confusing continuation back to her non-answer from before. He likes being around Luna. She’s a breath of fresh air from… well all of it, really. He doesn’t understand what she’s saying half the time but they can sit in silence and the silence with her isn’t actually quiet. There’s always some birds chirping that she makes him pay attention to, or flapping thestral wings, or even the singing of merfolk.
He’s still on edge in that “silence”. Some birds aren’t gonna fix all his issues immediately. But, it’s better than his common room. It’s enough.
They keep making pastries in the kitchen until dawn is passed and the sun has risen over the horizons. Classes haven’t started yet, but they will soon enough.
Harry taps Luna on the shoulder, “I’m going back to my dorm now. Want to walk with me?” he asks. Luna starts humming a song, one Harry doesn’t know. Chances are Luna made it up. He waits patiently for an answer.
“Yes, please,” she links arms with him, looking at the wand in her other hand. They just walk together for a minute or so, and Harry finds himself humming along with her to this unknown tune. Then, he remembers something.
“Hey Luna, you mentioned your aunt and uncle earlier, right?” he asks. Luna nods
“Yes. Aunty Dorcas, Uncle Evan, and Reggie,” she smiles at the last name.
“Tell me about them, please.” Luna’s humming slows down and her expression turns thoughtful.
“I think I expected them to like me. And like each other,” she says
“Isn’t that what family is supposed to do?” Harry questions. He’s always been pretty sure family are supposed to like each other. Everyone else’s does. At a very early age he came to the conclusion that the Dursleys just aren’t his family. Not really. Not if they act like that. They never really tried to make him believe otherwise, anyway. Until he learned about magic (and everything that he learnt alongside it) he believed that wholeheartedly.
“People aren’t supposed to do anything. Only expected to,” Luna replies. Harry is quite certain that is entirely wrong based off the dictionary definition of “supposed”, but he doesn’t really mind. It may not be right traditionally, but it’s right to Luna. “They didn’t ever meet me. I thought I was enough like mummy that they’d my friends, but I guess I’m not. Or maybe me being like mummy isn’t enough for them.”
“I think they’ll like you just because you’re you, soon enough,” Harry says. “I do.”
Luna hums again. They’re at the Slytherin common room door, now.
“Maybe,” she says. They both wave at each other until Luna turns away.