In the Melancholy Moonlight, Part 5: Dark Matter

Chapter 212: I'm Destiny

LUCY:

October 28, 1996. The only way to describe the day was heavy.

It was the first year I knew what the day itself meant for me. Amos and Susan had never told me the day I had been bitten; I hadn't known until the day I read my medical record in the Hospital Wing. There had been other dates on there that had been notable, such as October 14, 1989, but that first one, October 28, 1985, had been seared into my brain.

I had been dreading it, this first time experiencing October 28 with the knowledge of what it meant for me, but I hadn't counted on Harry knowing about it, let alone remembering it, let alone doing something sweet for me, let alone Ginny becoming involved too. I hadn't counted on the way my spirits were lifted so easily by two little collages in the front pocket of my bag.

It was far from an easy day, by any means, but my friends helped me through it.

Herbology carried with it reminders of Susan Diggory, who had tried to step in as Abby Everlin's replacement. I wondered if it was nature or nurture that made nurturing plants come so naturally to me. Ron could tell my mind was distant and continued cracking Venomous Tentacula jokes to try to cheer me up, and I did my best to smile and chuckle even though genuine laughter seemed impossible — I'm ashamed to admit that I didn't genuinely laugh until the Venomous Tentacula wrapped itself around his finger and he screamed like a young child before swearing like the experienced connoisseur of curses he was.

Potions was just a review day, meaning I could afford to space out a bit while I went through the now-familiar motions of the Draught of Living Death, complete with the Half-Blood Prince's edits to the recipe. Cam had continued to sit at our otherwise-Gryffindor table in Potions, and her blossoming friendship with Hermione in particular was fascinating to behold. Cam was the daughter of two Muggle-born parents, and as such had grown up more in the Muggle world than in the magical world. As it turned out, both Hermione and Cam had an affinity for an old Muggle playwright named William Shakespeare, and they spent the entire Potions period trying to explain the plot of As You Like It to the rest of us. It was dreadfully complicated, but trying to keep up with their rapid-fire explanations was a good way to stop my mind from drifting back eleven years.

Charms had been challenging as of late, because I did my best to rely solely on my human magic rather than my wolf magic. I hadn't realized how heavily I had relied on my wolf magic in the past until I made a concerted effort not to do it. I was still able to perform the magic, which was comforting — I wasn't powerful only when using wolf magic — but it was frustrating, having to devote effort to Charms of all classes, when it had been so effortless for so long. That day, more so than most days, I was determined to use only my human magic, and I had to concentrate so hard on separating the two that I didn't have any room left in my brain to think about anything else.

Quidditch practice was something of a release. Each swing of my bat, each daring maneuver, each shouted formation allowed a bit of the tension to drain from my body, allowed a bit more of my pent-up emotion to find a channel through which it could escape. But as the anger burned away, at Greyback, at myself, at the world, at the ocean that separated me from my family, at the eleven years that separated me from my family, I was left with only sadness taking up space in my chest.

When Quidditch practice came to an end, Ginny bumped my shoulder with her own.

"You want company tonight?" she asked. "I can head up to your dormitory once I've showered, if you'd like."

I shook my head. "I'm okay, I'll be okay, but thank you."

"Come and get me if you need anything, okay? Come wake me up, interrupt my studying, I don't care."