Chapter Six
Remus stops her on her way to Potions without his usual group of friends there to box him in on all sides like they were playing four square or something.
“You were at a Slytherin party?” He prods, eyebrows furrowed like he was dissecting a particularly tricky paragraph of a book instead of confronting his sister. Remus had that expression on his face that Mia couldn’t tell meant he was angry or confused. Usually, it means he was a messy mixture of both and couldn’t quite find the equilibrium to balance out his emotions.
She shrugs. Remus pulls them into an empty corridor away from the already prying of other students in the hall. A fight between the Lupins? That’d be gossip until next year. During the passing of months, Mia had slowly started to talk to Remus sometimes but it was rare on occasion and it usually only happened when Remus was, well, in a better mood then he was now. Now, Remus seemed like Alexander the Great, looking to conquer a new piece of land instead of reign in his sister.
“Why?” Remus pressures, as desperate as if he were stanching a wound, “Talk to me. Please?”
Mia rolls her eyes, “What’s it matter?” Her words come out like a whisper, scared to talk any louder. Her heart thumped a bit harder when she heard her voice but allowed herself to calm when the boy grabbed her hand. Even if he was mad at her, Remus was still trying to protect her. He was still a safe spot, a piece of solace just as he’d been when they were trapped in the lab together. They shared the same scars, the same hand lines, the same curse.
“You don’t want to mess around with the Slytherins. They don’t like us. Don’t you hear what they say?”
You know what she is.
Of course Mia knew what everyone said about them. She couldn’t walk down a hall without strained whispers crawling down her back like spiders. She couldn’t look in the mirror without the reminder herself. For Remus to insinuate to her that she didn’t; It annoyed Mia to her core.
“Everyone talks about us,” she whispers, shrugging. It felt like bugs were crawling up and down her skin, sinking into her and eating at her heart and soul. Talking, to Mia, almost felt like ripping out each rib of hers one by one. Deeply personal and surgical, with careful and precise movements in sterile situations.
“So why hang around them? I told you you could tag along with me,” Remus sighs, wringing his hands so much they burned red. Mia purses her lips, looking to the floor as she tried to hide behind her hair.
I don’t want to tag along, she wants to say but knows it would start a fight. Mia was so tired of fighting with people. It was exhausting feeling like she was walking on eggshells every moment of the day.
Remus sighs again, letting out all the air from his lungs. Perhaps he’d read her mind. Or maybe he just felt the same way as her.
“I just don’t like you around them, OK?” He mumbles, patting her shoulder comfortingly and then dropping his hand to his side. Mia nods, half understanding and half frustrated. The eleven year old could never decide whether she was a glass half full or empty kind of girl. Mia tried her best to come from a place of empathy and understanding, but it was hard to do that when all she could ever feel was frustration over everything. Frustration about who she was and how other people around her acted.
“I won’t be,” is what Mia says, because she doesn’t want to fight. Besides, she probably wouldn’t be around them anyway. The Slytherins, besides Cecilia, really didn’t seem to like her. She was just too different.
But, also, it just really was a boring party.
“I gotta go meet Sirius?” Her brother frames it as a question, more so asking if she was okay in his hidden tone. Okay with what Mia didn’t actually know. Why did it always feel like they were fighting?
Mia nods, giving him an assuring smile. He nods, clearly unsatisfied, but walks away anyway, long legs getting tangled up in his robes much like her.
She spends the rest of her day skipping class, feigning illness to go lay down in Pomfrey’s medical bay. Mia felt safer under the plush mattress and firm pillows, even if it reminded her of the full moon. It was better than facing her peers who constantly made her feel like a freak and unworthy.
All of November is spent like that, staying in Pomfrey’s for most of the week and then making up all her work by Friday. When the full moon comes, all Mia can remember the next morning is blood and the sound of her sobs. Her mother hadn’t been able to come to visit them either; Something about more shifts at work.
She didn’t get a new scar this time. Just more of the same old one that rendered her in an eyepatch the rest of the week. Pandora doesn’t mention it and neither does Frank but she can tell that they wonder about it and examine her when they don’t think she’s looking. She hopes they wont start noticing the repetition of her eye injury every month. She’d have to come up with a lie soon enough.
By the time December comes around, Hogwarts is pelted by snow and Mia is up to her knees in missing work. One day in the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall comes up to her while she eats her breakfast, grim face painted on her, “You need to come with me, Ms. Lupin. Please keep your breakfast on the table.”
Mia has wide eyes as she places her apple down and nods. Pandora gives her a weird look but doesn’t interrogate like she usually would. Neither girl was brave enough to question McGonagall. Mia keeps her head down, watching McGonagall’s robes swish across the stone flooring. They didn’t try to make conversation and instead the woman guides the girl towards a corridor with Gargoyles lining a grand door. Mia had never been over here before and her heart began to beat fast. Was she getting kicked out?
She stuck her sweaty hands into her pockets to stop herself from peeling her nails.
“Over here, child,” the older woman tuts, facing the grand door slightly camouflaged against the stone wall.
Mia gives the Professor a confused look.
“Dumbledore’s office,” McGonagall explains, “He’d like to speak with you.”
The Ravenclaw widens her eyes, dropping her head to focus on her feet. Dumbledore wanted to speak with her? The last time she’d even heard him speak was her first night at Hogwarts, when he’d made that weird speech. She couldn’t help but feel some trepidation, a deep anxiety pooling in her gut at the idea that something was terribly wrong. Mia wasn’t scared of the man or anything. He’d been perfectly nice when he allowed her and her brother into Hogwarts and even nicer when he paid for all their school supplies.
But had she failed him somehow? Had she not been worth all the expenses he’d paid for?
The thoughts make Mia suck in a breath, eyes slightly wet. She wouldn’t cry in front of McGonagall though. She didn’t want to seem like a big baby.
“Caramel drops,” the Gryffindor calls, the words causing the large door to swing open with a loud creak. Mia jumps at the noise, eyes being faced with the sight of a set of stone stairs lit by deep orange firelight. It felt like she was entering the stone age and Mia was beginning to wonder why the Wizarding World hated electricity so much.
“Go on then,” the woman beckons, hand placed gently on Mia’s shoulder in comfort. The girl nods, taking a breath and starting her trek up the stairs which seemed much scarier than they needed to be. When the stairs finally ended, Mia was left to the expanse of a large office made up of two stories and thousands of oddities and moving paintings.
When she stepped inside, the paintings greeted her kindly.
“What a weird looking girl!”
At least, sort of kindly. Mia scowled at wherever she thought the voice had come from.
“Oh please don’t mind Ser Finnick,” Dumbledore’s voice greets, gentle but fulfilling against the empty room, “He doesn’t much care for visitors.”
Mia nods, trying not to seem spooked. McGonagall had stuck behind the door, hand gone from her shoulder. The brown eyed girl silently wished for the comfort to revive itself so she didn’t feel so small against a world so very looming and large.
Dumbledore gestures to one of the plush, leather chairs and Mia sits down obediently, wringing her hands in her lap. She still didn’t know what this was about and hoped her Mum hadn’t been called. She hadn’t heard from her in quite awhile and didn’t want this to be the first thing the woman hears about from her daughter.
In trouble with Dumbledore! Her Mum would kill her if she knew.
“You’re wondering why you’re here.”
Mia nods.
“Try a lemon candy first. I’m quite fond of them, I’m sure you would be too.”
Mia shakes her head. She’d lost her appetite somewhere between the gargoyle and the trek up the stone age stairs.
“Well then,” Dumbledore claps his hands, gentle smile on his lips that were rippled by wrinkles. Mia had forgotten how old the man was. He looked a hundred at least. She hoped he couldn’t read thoughts and blushed in embarrassment when the Wizard gave her a look as if he really could. “I guess we’ll get straight to it.”
“You have not been attending class or turning in assignments,” the man begins, taking a seat in the leather chair beside her. When Mia turns her head to see where McGonagall had been standing, the woman is gone. Her heart begins pattering nervously. They were going to kick her out, surely, and she’d never hear the end of it. Her Mum would have her doing chores for months.
“Late work is not a full grade and your Professors have expressed concern that you are not trying for the future you deserve,” the man states placidly, looking at her like he wasn’t mad at all. Mia still felt lectured though and shrunk into herself.
Future she deserved? What future? Mia couldn’t see herself past seventeen. The wolf would pry kill her by then anyway. It’d be better if he just yelled. Mia was so used to people screaming at her; In the lab they’d call her horrible names. Mutt. Abomination. Feral dog. It’d been awful, yes, but the eleven year old expected it. Adapted to it even.
But for someone to expect something from her and her not to measure up? It was awful. It was worse than awful.
He must’ve read her thoughts again. “Madam Pomfrey has expressed concern for your wellbeing.”
Mia gives him a look. He knew she couldn’t control that. She would be destroyed every full moon. That was just that.
“Not physical,” Dumbledore explains gently, “But mental.” He taps his temple and gives Mia a soft look, like he was scared she was going to run away. But Mia couldn’t run away even if she wanted to. She felt glued to the leather chair and her legs felt like pieces of jello. She didn’t like where this conversation was headed.
Was he trying to pick her brain like the lab did? Was that what this was?
“I am not trying to put you on the spot, Ms. Lupin,” Dumbledore sighs, looking very sad even though he was smiling, “But you cannot go on like this. You cannot keep shrinking in on yourself. Coming to Hogwarts was meant to be an opportunity for you. It was meant to be a chance to help you thrive.”
These words hurt Mia for some reason. They remind her that she didn’t come to Hogwarts for the normal reason. She did not come to Hogwarts because of her magic. She came because Dumbledore and her Mum wanted her to have a chance to be a normal kid. The reminder is deflating. It is another reason she will never be like the others. It is another reason she is different.
“Madam Pomfrey, your Mother and I have decided it would be a good idea to get you someone to talk to,” Dumbledore eases the idea onto her, like he was talking to a baby or something. It made her feel embarrassing. Someone to talk to? Mia didn’t want to talk to anyone. She just wanted to sleep. And why had her mother formed this idea and not talked to her about it one bit?
“Where is she?” Mia whispers, too hurt to be scared. She needed to say this. Needed to.
Dumbledore does not seem surprised by her voice. “Who?” He asks.
“Mum,” is all Mia says before she’s silent again, giving the man a look with bleary eyes. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t.
“Your mother is very busy. She wanted to be here today, really she did. But I thought it best if I was the one to tell you. Because this is not a choice, Ms. Lupin, and I don’t want it framed as such.”
Dumbledore doesn’t seem like a nice old man anymore. Mia doesn’t know how to filter her feelings and thoughts. All she knows is that she feels rather controlled. If she didn’t feel in debt to Dumbledore, maybe she would have run out of his office. But he’d given her the chance to be at Hogwarts, and he’d given her the clothes on her back, and Mia couldn’t refuse him no matter how much she wanted to.
He seems to notice her defeat.
“Every Saturday morning, you’ll come to my office and speak to Ms. Harmon. She’s a kind woman and has helped many Hogwarts students like yourself. I think you’ll find this healing,” Dumbledore smiles, standing up from his chair to signify the conversation was over. He did not pressure her to stand up though, and let her sink into her chair and mind wander as he went about the office.
Her brain was going to be picked by doctors again. It would be just like the lab. They would try to decipher whether or not she was a rabid animal. Did Remus have to talk to this woman? Probably not. Remus knew how to be normal. Remus knew how to acclimate with the outside world in a way she didn’t even know how to begin to try doing.
Mia’s heart beat a million times per second and she didn’t think she remembered how to blink her eyes. All she could do was stare at a particular piece of carpet, thinking about a thousand things. Mia remembers suddenly when they put the lightning in her brain and the needles up her back. She remembers the time she didn’t have a mother and slept in a cage. She remembers the time when she was wholly animal and not a girl. She remembers a time when they called her it.
Did everyone still see that animal inside her? Was Dumbledore trying to tame her by getting her to talk to some shrink?
“I would like you to remember, Ms. Lupin,” the man says from the upstairs of his office, “that your mother wanted this and she would never allow any harm to come to you. I expect she’ll send a letter to you soon. For now, Professor McGonagall is outside and ready to escort you to class.”
Mia blinks and tries to breathe. She ignores Dumbledore and makes her way over to the stairs, skipping as many steps as she could to get out of there. Sure enough, outside the door, McGonagall was there waiting for her, looking like she was braced for a storm. When the woman saw that Mia wasn’t screaming or crying, she seemed to become less broad and stern, more relaxed and worried.
“You have Charms, yes?”
Mia nods, feeling angry at the world and angry with herself. If she’d just gone to class. If she’d just done her work. If she’d just talk to people more.
What? What would happen if she’d do all those things?
She’d still have the same thoughts. She’d still have those same memories.
Mum’s letter came in the mail on Wednesday of that week. Inside the envelope, Hope had tucked a dozen caramel candies inside and the owl that dropped it off clearly wasn’t very happy with its weight. Mia pops a candy in her mouth to chew on as she examines the letter, trying not to get angry. She didn’t understand why she was so angry all the time.
Mia,
By now Dumbledore has told you about the Saturday meetings. I hope you know that this is in your best interest. It was the only way I could get you help without a cost and I’m sorry I couldn’t discuss it with you further. Trust that I did my own thorough research on Ms. Harmon and have only found her to be a top notch woman. You know I don’t trust easy but know that I trust her. I love you a million caramel candies.
Miss your sweet face,
Mum xx
The eleven year old sighs in defeat and folds the letter small enough that it fits into her jean pocket. Then she sweeps the caramel candies into her robe and makes her way over to the Gryffindor table where Frank is sitting. Unfortunately, he’s sitting next to a particularly annoying crowd that makes up her brother’s friend group and tries to ignore them as best she can. They were always trying to talk to her.
“Little Lupin, there you are!” James grins, his freshly chipped front tooth shining in all its glory. Apparently he’d fallen off his broom in Quidditch tryouts and hit the ground straight on his mouth. He was still set to be the youngest on the Gryffindor team though besides Marlene because it’d been a pretty daring dive. Not that Mia kept note or anything.
Mia gives the group an unimpressed look but smiles at Peter, who smiles back.
“What are you doing here, Mia?” Frank asks, taking a gross bite of his toast and chewing with his mouth open. Mia takes her robe pocket and shakes it out onto the table in front of him, letting the caramel candies fly and somewhat land on his lap. She gestures her hands out with a smile.
“Godric Gryffindor! Thanks girl!” The boy smiles, bringing out a fist that Mia halfheartedly bumps, shrugging her shoulder. She can feel Remus’ eyes on her and tries not to squirm.
“Where’d you get all that candy?” Remus asks, one eyebrow shot up quizzically. He was looking at her like he actually expected her to answer.
Instead Mia just shrugs, allowing Marlene to come over and ruffle her hair before she was on her way, set to go to the library for a nice nap in the window bed. She didn’t have class for an hour and that was usually how she spent her free time.
On Saturday, Mia is walked to Dumbledore’s office by McGonagall, wrapped in two sweaters and pants lined with fleece. Hogwarts had been caught by a snowstorm and most kids were spending the day cuddled up in the Great Hall, playing Wizard’s Chess or studying for final exams. Mia was jealous of them all.
“Here we are,” Professor McGonagall hums, placing a comforting hand on Mia’s shoulder. The girl purses her lips and pushes down her feelings deep, all the way down to the guts of her stomach where it would take a while for them to come back up.
“Gumdrops,” the older woman calls and the large door swings open, beckoning the eleven year old inside. She purses her lips and heads in albeit her queasiness. The faster she gets this done, the faster Mia can go take a nap in her dorm. She takes the steps two at a time and welcomes the warmth of Dumbledore’s office with a sigh. It was still just as cluttered from Wednesday, except this time, the paintings didn’t greet her with insults.
Dumbledore must have told them off or something.
“You must be Emilia,” a woman hums, coming into the warm light. She was tall, with long silver hair and plenty of wrinkles curated from a long life. Mia stares at her uncomfortably. Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen.
“He won’t be in right now,” the woman, most likely Ms. Harmon, sends a warm smile, countless smile lines showing through, “I didn’t want him eavesdropping.”
Mia nods, slightly anxious as she takes a seat in the familiar plush chair. She didn’t like that it was just her and this woman. Despite the comfortable surroundings, Mia still felt as though she were back in the lab, about to be poked and prodded for being a monster.
But her mother had trusted this woman, so Mia told herself she could too.
“You know who I am?”
Mia nods, watching carefully as she takes a seat in front of her.
“Good. I know who you are,” Ms. Harmon smiles, snapping her fingers as a pad of paper and quill flies into her hand. She clicks her tongue and glasses slide perfectly onto her nose. Mia watches with eyes wide. She’d never seen someone do such remarkable wandless magic before. Not even Dumbledore.
“It takes years of practice,” the woman sighs, as if she could read Mia’s mind. The Ravenclaw shifts in her seat. She probably could. It’s not a welcome thought.
“Well then,” Ms. Harmon grins, crossing her legs so the long slit of her skirt falls slightly, revealing a leather boot. Mia couldn’t lie, Ms. Harmon looked cool. Like really cool. And not in the way adults always tried to be but in a natural way.
“Did you know I’m older than Dumbledore?” The silver haired woman asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Mia raised her eyebrows and shook her head. Hard to believe anyone was older than Dumbledore. Wasn’t he like a million years old? This lady only looked seventy.
“I’m a thousand years old,” she states simply, floating her purse over to dig through it. Mia watches in interest as she digs through the leather bag, before finally pulling a piece of gum out (completely unwrapped) and popping it into her mouth. She chews aggressively and Mia cannot stop watching, slightly disgusted.
“And, knowing Dumbledore, he pry introduced me as Ms. Harmon,” the thousand year old woman goes on through her saliva, “But really I’m just Betty. Plain, old Betty.”
“Now,” Betty claps and Mia jumps, “shall we get into the juicy stuff? Do you want to talk about the selective mutism part or the skipping class part? Good ol’ Albus told me to not be so blunt, but I think you can handle it. You seem like a tough girl.”
Mia sinks into her chair, pursing her lips in discomfort. What was this woman talking about? She sounded crazy! Maybe that’s what a thousand years did to the brain. How did her Mum approve of this?
“Listen,” Betty huffs, blowing a strand of hair out of her face, leaning over so her face was right up against Mia’s, “I was like you once.”
Mia gives the woman an unimpressed look.
“Don’t believe me?” She smiles, eyebrows raised. Mia shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest. The eleven year old couldn’t wait to get out of here and send her Mum a strongly worded letter. Something along the lines of crazy and a complete waste of time.
“Lookie here,” she sighs, pulling down a part of her turtleneck to reveal a long, angry scar that scaled up and down her neck like the root of a tree. Mia widens her eyes, absentmindedly touching her own scar along her eye.
Ms. Harmon was a…
“Werewolf,” the thousand year old smiles, stretching out her limbs with a proud smile. Mia feels her heart racing, feels her leg start to shake absentmindedly. The only other werewolves Mia knew was her brother and him. No one else. Mia didn’t even realize there were others. She figured there couldn’t be or they would’ve been stuck in the lab like her. Right?
“You can talk with me,” Betty explains calmly, “because I will understand. You’re trying to hide but there’s no point. I already see you.”
I already see you.
“There’s more of us?” Mia whispers under her breath, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.
I already see you.
I already see you.
She couldn’t stop hearing it. She couldn’t stop seeing the scar. Mia felt overwhelmed. Had her mother known what Ms. Harmon was? Did Dumbledore? And if there were more of them, did they have to suffer the same way Remus and her had? Have. It didn’t seem fair. It should have been a comforting notion, that Mia was not alone, but all she could think about was teeth sinking into throats. In lives spent being treated like less than.
“Oh! There’s plenty,” Betty hums, “And don’t go thinking we’re attackers. You can be violent and you can not be. It’s all about control. And I,” the woman pops another piece of gum in her mouth, “have control.”
Mia blinks her eyes. Thinks about all the times the wolf has hurt her. She could control that? She could be something that’s not a monster?
“Everybody can gain control,” the woman explains, reading her mind once more, “But everyone has their own ways of doing it. I’m here to help you figure out yours. I was supposed to help your brother too but he seems to have figured it out on his own.”
Mia raises her eyebrow. That didn’t seem likely. Remus woke up with scars the same as her. Whatever the woman was throwing down, the eleven year old wasn’t picking it up.
“It’s not about the scars, Emilia,” Betty leans in, looking Mia right in the eyes as she aggressively chews on the gum, “It’s about the mind.”
The mind. It was the notion the lab constantly drilled into her. They always told her that after the bite, she’d lost it, and it was their job to bring her back to civilization. To bring her back to being the girl she once was. But that girl, the one who was scared of trampolines and liked sunsets and knew how to be gentle, was gone. Dead. He had taken that away from her and no shrink was ever going to get her back.
“What do you like to do, Emilia?” Betty asks, leaning back into her chair and popping one leg over the other. Mia stuffs her hands into the pockets of her pants, huffing out a sigh as she looks over to where a fireplace was going steady. She shrugs. The girl couldn’t think of one thing she was actually passionate about. All Mia ever did was exist.
“Nothing?” The woman guesses. Mia scowls. A headache was forming inside of her like a piece of yarn spiraling up and forming a knot through her brain chemistry. She wanted a break from it all. She wanted to be in the library with Frank, silent as ever, making jewelry to their liking. She wanted to be with Pandora, letting the girl braid her hair and talk about her studies. She’d even take timing James’ quidditch practice if it meant this dissection would stop.
“Well then,” Betty claps her hands together, “My first task for you will be finding something you like to do. Essentially, I’m telling you to get a hobby over break and then come back to me. Tell me how you feel about it.”
Mia gives Betty a flatlined expression, trying to make her feel as dumb as possible. Finding a hobby seemed stupid and fruitless to her, a small increment of an idea in the grand scheme of things.
Betty seems to take the negativity with a grain of salt. Her smile never falters from her face.
And when Mia leaves the office, she’d been given a book of about a thousand different hobbies for young Wizards’ and Witches. The Lupin girl thought maybe to throw the book out, but that seemed like a total waste. Maybe she’ll give it a read, if she has time over break.
But only if she has time.