Luck of Nines

77

       Linda woke up in St. Mungos.  Her grandma had taken her there before, as the only true witch in the family back when Linda had caught Dragon's Pox it had fallen to the aging muggleborn witch to bring her to the place where she could get the proper care she needed.  She didn't need to look around the room, oddly enough she could still recognize it from her much younger days of staring up at the distinctive ceiling, scared that she was going to die, but also relieved. Because it meant that she was a witch after all; she would get a Hogwarts letter. It was an odd fact to remember.

      Considering the tension that had always existed under the surface surrounding magic in their household, Linda had never felt quite comfortable there, actually it felt more as if she was always walking on pins and needles.

      Her grandmother disliked their own magic, her grandfather had fearfully accepted its existence, but he hadn't adjusted well to something he never could have really considered before, and which he never managed to understand.  Her grandfather had at one point been firmly grounded in muggle realities and, for as long as Linda had known him, he always seemed bitter that his wife didn't use magic to benefit them more.

       She had never met her aunt, they had run off to Beauxbatons the second they had gotten the chance, and her mother, whether you choose to call her mum a squib or a muggle it didn't particularly matter, either way she was incapable of creating even the most basic of potions, her mother had never forgiven them for their swift departure. And then Linda had been born, not quite two years later and already the small hints of accidental magic which each time made her family suspect magic, sent the just barely settling tension erupting all over again in spirals of I'll disguised accusations and slighting commentary.

        Family had always been complicated for Linda, from what she could tell, it often was for Hufflepuff students. They came from broken families, or absent ones, what they sought the most was people to call their family, not power, glory, or knowledge, they looked for something the other three houses readily took for granted; a place filled with people that they could comfortably call home, and who they could call family.  Where they could be themselves without worrying about being scorned for their oddities or who they were.

        And now...

         Linda broke down into tears, each pained cry that left her mouth jerking at the still tender wound in her stomach.  The stab wound.

          It was too horrible to think about, the way they had been betrayed, the way- the way...

         The screams still echoed in the back of her mind.

          It had been her job to protect them. 

           "Woah, hey there, it's alright, you're safe." Whoever was in the room, or had entered the room, rushed to her side as the tears and snot flowed, holding her still in such a way that each minute jerk didn't pull at her injury.  Comforting her. "It's okay, you're okay, everything is going to be fine. Shhhh, let it out."

        They whispered empty, meaningless, soothing words to her and Linda let them. She didn't ask about the others.  She knew what had happened and she shouldn't bear to hear about the deaths now. The person was still talking, attempting to soothe her cries, but the words seemed distant, though it seemed as if they were trying to get her to be still and lie back in the bed. Just lie there.  Lie there...

        She had laid there on the cushioned floor, bleeding out, until the pillows staunched the flow, pain pulsing from the wound, unable to move, unable to do anything but listen.  Laid there for hours.  Laid there listening to the crying, pleading, and screaming, the scrambling, desperate attempts to escape.  Listened as all of those sounds slowly died down, leaving only Ansel Rowle still making any sound.

     She desperately hoped he wasn't the last one alive, but he was alive, she could hear his almost giddy, smug, sounding chuckles and just barely inaudible, mumbled comments to himself.  She had never hoped for anyone's death before, but she did now. His and whatever monster he had brought into the common room.

     The screams had stopped.

      "Linda? Are you awake?" Rowle seemed as if he was different now, not in that she was seeing him in a different light, no. His mannerisms were different. "Oh..." his hand trembled as they touched her bloody wound, but she couldn't move her hand to slap him away, he finally drew his hand away, there was blood on it, there wasn't any anywhere else on him though. 

       "I'm glad it was you that opened the door to come looking for me." He finally said, "Of course I knew you would. If not for me then for that Tonks girl and Diggory." He wrinkled his nose, "You've always been the one most interested in taking care of the first years. Most protective of the prefects. But... well. You aren't able to protect any of them from this, I'm not going to even go to trial. You're probably cursing me in your head right now, promising to make sure I'll pay. But I won't. You're paralyzed, but you can still hear me. I know you can.  So listen well, I'll tell you a secret."

     His voice hitched and changed slightly, "There's nothing you can do about this in the real world, you're the victim, that's all you are to anyone outside of Hufflepuff, you were never going to amount or anything or achieve anything anyway, you need power to make change; do you really think Albus Dumbeldore will support you? He only wants change when it's beneficial to him. You always paid so much attention to me, that's why I'm glad it was you who opened the door, because if anything was going to kill you, I wanted to do it myself. But it looks like you get to live after all."

     "Are you insane?" She whispered weakly with what felt like all of her strength. 

       "Maybe." He laughed, "Some of your little friends certainly thought so."

        "They were your friends too."  She gasped out.

         His foot stomped down hard on the stab wound and she gasped in pain, unable to do more than groan, stuck frozen, trapped under his boot. "I'm leaving now, so it's time for you to go to sleep," he leaned closer, "But you aren't going to tell anyone about what happened. Not a word. And do you know why? Because if you do, the next time I see you I'll leave an actual scar for you to remember this by. One you won't be able to hide and brush away, this one will be for you to see and remember your failure by, to remind you just how trapped you really are. Because you won't be able to do anything about that one either.  The next one will show the world how weak you are." He grinned, cruelly, "They'll all assume you begged for mercy, begged before the man who you claimed killed your fake little family.  Either that, or you say nothing. There's someone with true power coming. He's going to change things. He's going to bring things back to how they should be. I guess you're going to be lucky enough to witness it.  If you're at all smart you'll know not to get his way when you do."
  
        Linda choked back a scream tugging herself away from whoever it was holding her, hands clutching at her ears as if to prevent herself from hearing the words which she had already heard. She rocked back and forth with a terrorized screech.

      "Hey, hey it's alright, Linda," her hands were gently removed from her ears, held softly, but firmly, so that her nails couldn't dig into her own flesh, "You're in St. Mungos, I'm your healer for right now, do you remember me from Hogwarts?  I assisted Madam Pompfrey for awhile in the medical wing."

Theo blinked partially into wakefulness from where he had fallen asleep at his desk. Someone had entered the old master bedroom.

(An: So I know it's a little short, but I decided to split this chapter into two pieces since it was getting a little too long, anyway, hope you enjoyed. -T.A.L.A.)