The Hollow Beneath Hogwarts

37. Bad Blood

Sloane slammed her office door behind her hard enough that several picture frames rattled on the walls.

She was furious. Absolutely furious.

Her chest heaved with angry breaths as she paced across the room, dragging frustrated hands through her hair. Magic sparked faintly at her fingertips in little silver flickers, reacting to her emotions.

How could he preach about second chances while refusing to truly give them himself? How could Kingsley stand in front of the wizarding world demanding unity and fairness while still instinctively distrusting people like Draco and Blaise?

Hypocrite.

The word echoed bitterly through her mind.

She kicked lightly at the leg of a chair as she paced past it before immediately wincing guiltily and straightening it again.

The argument dragged old memories to the surface whether she wanted them or not. Summer. The worst summer of her life.

The moment she told Kingsley she had applied to Hogwarts without asking permission.

At the time, Sloane had genuinely thought he would be proud of her. She had thought he would see it as maturity. Independence. Strength.

Instead, he had exploded.

The acceptance letter had arrived in early July. Sloane still remembered how excited she felt holding it in her hands. Hogwarts. A fresh start. A chance to finally live.

Joanna had cried when Sloane showed her.

Actually cried.

She hugged Sloane tightly and told her how proud she was for wanting to finish her education despite everything that had happened.

Kingsley's reaction had been very different.

He had been furious. Not disappointed. Furious.

He had called her naive. Reckless. Selfish.

He forbade her from going before she had even finished explaining herself.

And the worst part—

The part Sloane still had not forgiven—

Was when he told her her parents would be ashamed of her decision. Ashamed. The memory still hurt like a knife twisting between her ribs. That had been the night she decided she could no longer live under the same roof as him.

So she moved out.

Well...

As much as Kingsley and Joanna would allow.

Joanna had eventually brokered peace between them by convincing Kingsley to let Sloane move into the small cottage on their property instead of remaining inside the main house.

Neutral ground. Freedom with supervision. Kingsley hated it. Sloane loved it out of pure spite. Eventually Joanna forced them to sit down and talk properly.

Kingsley apologised for mentioning her parents. Sloane never forgot the look on his face when he did. Genuine regret. Fear too.

Because beneath all his anger had always been fear. He told her the truth that night. The real truth.

Not the watered-down version she had grown up hearing. He explained why he was terrified of her powers becoming public knowledge. People would want favours. Others would want control. Some would want to study her. Experiment on her. Turn her into a weapon. A lab rat.

He told her about her mother.

About Kendall. About the paranoia. The isolation. The fear that consumed her long before Voldemort ever found her.