The Heart Is Not Black or White

Chapter 32

Grumio's POV

Throughout dinner with the Malfoy's, I kept looking over at Marissa. She looked fairly comfortable with these people, this other family. It was... odd. Almost scary. No, it terrified me. Yes, the Malfoy's were close friends of mine. But I knew what they were. Even though I was once one of them, I couldn't let Marissa turn into that. Not like me. And certainly not like my father.

Marissa's paternal grandfather was a half-blood wizard. I never knew my mother or anything about her, just that my father missed her every minute of every day.

My father was part of the Death Eaters. He always wanted me to be one too, he wanted me to be powerful, but I didn't want that. I told him that I wanted to go to America, to become an auror.

I was almost hexed into oblivion that day. My father screamed, "Do you know what aurors do? They hunt wizards like me! You are to be a Death Eater, it's what your mother wanted."

That day I almost gave up my dream of traveling to America and becoming an auror. Once my father calmed down, he told me a story about the future, or at least his version of a utopian future. It was about an empire. There was an emperor and an empress who ruled over the world, and they were the most powerful witch and wizard in the universe. They ruled over every wizard, muggle, and creature. My father described the empress in detail, and I couldn't help but wonder if he was describing my mother, that he was living vicariously through this fable where he was the emperor. As I grew older and became a Death Eater, I thought maybe the story was about me as the emperor, my father living vicariously through me instead. But then I met Beatrice, the love of my life, who looked nothing like the empress my father described. Bea had flaming red hair, a kind, round face, freckles, and striking green eyes that I've only ever seen on one other person. The empress had long glossy hair so black it almost looked blue, with a pallid face and cold grey eyes. I came to realize that this empress my father had described was my daughter, Marissa. The only difference was that she inherited Bea's green eyes, rather than my grey ones. She also inherited Bea's humor, wit, and fight, my looks, the passion of Bea's father, and unfortunately, the talent for dark arts like my father and I.

The day she came home from Hogwarts, I could tell she was changed. Her emotions changed extremely sometimes. One minute she would be quiet, thinking very deeply about something, the next she was talking up a storm with stories from her first year at Hogwarts.

This summer, Marissa was very angry at us for a few days. She hated that we didn't tell her about Harry Potter, the boy who lived. According to Marissa, every kid at school knew about the boy, Voldemort, and the Death Eaters. But I had just never worked up the strength to tell her. It would lead to talk of Death Eaters, and knowing what her parents vocation had been would break her heart.

The last thing I wanted to happen was have the thought of being a Death Eater placed in Marissa's mind. She was a very smart and talented witch, and she could be anything she wanted to be. Knowing that someday Voldemort would rise again, I prayed, even though I had no faith in a god, that Marissa would never be a Death Eater. I tried to always make sure Marissa knew she was smart. I wanted her to have dreams like me, but have options like I never did.

Alas, I saw my worst nightmare coming true right before my eyes. That damn prophecy said she would work with a dark wizard, but I didn't know how likely it was. Marissa had the ability to accomplish amazing things, I just hoped that she would make the right choices along the way.

That night, after dinner with the Malfoy family, I vowed to myself that I would keep my family away from the dark arts. No matter what. I will not let Marissa be bound to the dark side as I once was. I had done so much to get myself and my family in the place that we are now... and I couldn't let that go to waste.

Before heading off to bed, Bea and I sat down for a cup of tea. We stopped our conversation about Voldemort when we heard Marissa padding down the hallway. She appeared in the doorway and I said, "What are you doing up, Marissa? I thought you went to bed?"

"I did, but you guys are being too loud," she replied. "I heard you talking about Voldemort."

"Please don't say his name, dear," said Bea.

"Whatever," Marissa grumbled.

I gave her a stern look. "That's not how you talk to your mother."

"Fine, I'm sorry," she huffed. "But I'm not here to ask you guys about the Death Eaters again."

I flinched.

Marissa took a deep breath and said, "Do... Do you guys know anyone who was named Assyria?"

Beatrice dropped her mug and it shattered on the wood floor. Marissa and I looked at her inquisitively. The name Assyria did not sound familiar, but from her panicked expression, I could tell it sounded scarily familiar to Bea.

"Marissa, please go to your room, we have to be at the Burrow early-" said Bea.

"But Mom," Marissa pleaded. She sounded so defiant, and it scared me that my little girl was growing up to be this way. "You obviously know who Assyria is, and you won't tell me. I don't see what's so bad about telling me-"

Beatrice was twisting her head and her neck, a tell-tale sign that she was highly comfortable. I needed to step in.

"Marissa." I stood up. Sternly I continued, "Go to your room. Now. Do not come out until it's time to leave for the Burrow."

My daughter just stared at me with this look in her eyes. I wasn't sure what the look was, but it was intimidating. Every year the green in her eyes became more prominent, and one accusatory glance from her could scare the heck out of a gown man. But I couldn't let up. I was the father of the family, and I needed to show that I held the power. Father and daughter stared at each other with confusion and anger before she fled back up to her bedroom. As she turned away, I could have sworn that Marissa had tears in her eyes. That was the scariest thing I saw that night, because Marissa was not a crier. Letting down my family was something I had vowed to never do again.

When Marissa was out of earshot and I heard the slam of her bedroom door, I turned to face Bea. Her complexion was pallid, instantly reminding me of the empress from my father's story. Apparently the mention of this Assyria brought back a terrible memory buried inside her. Bea gripped the arms of the chair tightly, the shattered pieces of the mug at her feet, bathing in the puddle of tea on the floor.

"So," I started. "Are you going to tell me about Assyria or is this going to be another one of you secrets?"

Bea turned red, blushing and bringing color back to her face. She gulped and said, "No, you definitely deserve an explanation for this. Sit, if you faint I don't want you to hit your head on the floor."