Circi | 2

FORTY

"Fight or Flight"

April 1998, one month later

The rest of the holidays seemed to drag on as though time itself wanted to keep Circi in the Manor. She rarely left her room, grateful that her family didn't try to force her out to dinner, and a house elf often brought her meals with shaky legs.

After the appearance of Harry Potter and witnessing the torture she could hardly imagine anyone could inflict on others in the right mind, she was dragged hopelessly back to Hogwarts. Back to Mica and the target on her back because of her closeness to Circi. It seemed more than cruel for the Carrows to target them, a bunch of fifth-years, without direct orders to do so.

They were playing games. Running circles around Snape and Lucius, testing their limits. No student had died under their care, but no student had returned the same and Circi could only wonder when they would go that step further.

After all, there was no ministry to arrest them.

Circi sat against her velvet headboard, hugging her knees and staring down at a letter she had just finished drafting. It would be her sixth letter to Mica since Harry had escaped the Manor and yet she had received no responses. In fact, she hadn't heard from any of her friends except Myrna who simply wrote 'we're okay.'

This did nothing to ease her mind. While her thoughts were reeling with images of Mica writhing at the mercy of the cruciatus curse, she could only assume Myrna's concerns were with her own wellbeing and that of her closest friends- among whom Mica had never been considered. Sure, Rhiannon and Myrna were the safest. They were not only Slytherins but Purebloods and that had to amount to something for the Carrows. Leslie, also, was a Slytherin and a valuable one at that. If he wasn't so defensive with everyone he might have been recruited back when Draco was.

But, it was his secrets that made her worry. All the Carrows had to do was take his glasses and he would hardly be able to see what they were doing, he wouldn't be able to observe others and gather secrets, but he could be wrung off the secrets he already knew.

And Mica? She was everything the death eaters despised. Gryffindor, halfblood, and her father had been a traitor to everyone. It was information she had been told in an attempt to connect with each other, Mica thought it would be a comfort to Circi to know that her father had also been a death eater in the early years of the first war. She referred to him only as Amon and spoke about him with a scowl set on her face. Circi had never seen her look so resentful of a person. And, even if she did renounce her father, he had married a muggle in the end and had her. The death eaters would not forgive that.

Circi's eyes widened, coming to a realisation that the torture they forced Mica to endure was not about her.

She'd been selfish, self-centred, and trusting of her father's words that they would punish her to punish him. But there was no one around to laugh at his hurt anymore, just those he had hurt. Hell, the death eaters barely knew Mica was connected to Circi until she and Dexter intervened.

It was all starting to click and Mica's radio silence chewed at her consciousness more and more.

Tearing up the letter, she tossed the fragments off the bed and refused to touch them. How could she be so selfish? How had she been so caught up in herself to see only the half truth of danger.

She must have known. Circi could see that look in her eyes as the train left the station. It wasn't a 'see you soon' goodbye, there was permanence in it as if she knew that might be the end. The weight of it all settled on her shoulders and Circi rocked forward, bit her knee and screamed in frustration.