Anarchy ((Hebe))

[Melody Bang-Bala G6]

Her uncle gave her the creeps. It might be wrong of her to think that, but it couldn’t be helped. He had creepy eyes: calculating, shrewd, unforgiving, angry eyes. Her shade of green, but his penetrating, the flecks of orange and black more widespread, fire and anarchy dashed into the green pool of his irises. Contempt. Melody shuddered as he broke his captivating stare. She had been scrutinised, and deemed beneath him. She could tell by the witheringly slow turning of his head in the other direction, the disdainful upward curve of his mouth.

“Thank you,” said he, slowly, deliberately, awfully politely, creepily. He was only accepting a cup of tea from Hebe. The saucer clattered noisily against the fragile bone-china cup; Melody, stealing a glance in that direction, saw her cousin’s hand trembling. She supposed her uncle must have a similar effect on Hebe.
“Do be careful, Hebe!” her grandmamma snapped in reproach at the racket.

Hebe flinched, and took her seat next to Grandmamma as quietly as was possible, seemingly trying to fade out of everyone’s consciousness. She was so different from at Hogwarts. At school, Hebe, although largely reticent, would be outspoken and stand up for herself, for Melody, her few friends and even other random downtrodden students. She expressed her opinions openly and without taking any prisoners. In the month that she had been at grandmamma’s over the holidays, Hebe seemed to have become almost mouse-like: scared, jumpy, eager-to-please and almost completely silent. Although she was concerned, Melody couldn’t understand it… she had never really understood her cousin.

Melody tried smiling at Hebe, wanting to comfort and reassure her by the simplest upturning of her lips, all that she was free to do within the social restraints of the family circle. She received a glower filled with hatred in return, her cousin coming out of her withdrawn shell for a second, her eyes becoming almost as scary as those belonging to Melody’s uncle. Melody looked down, taken aback, and when she looked again the mouse was back in her cousin’s eyes. She sipped her tea as non-obtrusively as she could, wondering whether she’d be just like Hebe by the end of their fortnight staying with her grandmother in Hull. It was going to be a long one.

[Hebe Bang-Bala R7]

Life – the act of living – had been difficult for Hebe for as long as she could remember, but the last few weeks had been closer to intolerable. Grandmamma became more impatient each passing year, demanding all the magical knowledge Hebe could pass on to her, and yet more. Her uncle tightened his ever vice-like grip on Grandmamma’s judgement, his malicious influence spreading out its tentacles in the months that Hebe was away at school. Hebe was almost sure that he was the source of the nasty curses and dark magic her grandmamma suddenly knew that Hebe certainly wouldn’t touch or teach. Now Grandmamma was using them as a threat to coerce her into teaching ever more, and ever nastier, magic.

It was a vicious cycle and a miserable situation for Hebe, but, even without her lingering respect and love for her grandmother, there was no one for her to confide in even had she wished to. She couldn’t tell a figure of authority at Hogwarts because she suspected that she’d already broken some branch of wizarding law by teaching what she already had to a witch with no formal magical schooling. If she ended up being expelled from Hogwarts, everything that she’d endured over the years would have been for nothing. What would she do with her life if she couldn’t finish her NEWTs? Her current plan was to get the grades that would open doors for her wherever she went, most importantly her own front door to allow her to get out of here and carve her own way in life…

Hebe’s self-sufficiency had got her this far, but it was also to be her undoing. There was simply no one who she cared about enough that she could trust them with her confession of weakness. Melody… yes, she cared about her little cousin more than she cared about anyone else on this planet, but she couldn’t offload her burden onto Melody, for God’s sake! As it was, Melody had a chance to be happy. And what use would it be to worry the girl, anyway? It wasn’t as if she could do anything to help.

All this passed through Hebe’s mind at the speed of thought as she took her seat after her grandmamma’s rebuke; she had already debated each option of escape and endurance with herself countless times. Suddenly Melody smiled at her, a private smile meant only for Hebe. For a moment the Ravenclaw’s heart warmed, but that slight chink in her armour almost opened the floodgates for the oppressive misery that threatened to devour her. The first kindness she’d received in almost a month was too much for her, and she scowled at her cousin suddenly, bitterly.
‘Damn you,’ she thought viciously. 'Why do you get to be happy?’ For Melody’s smile was one that only someone happy, someone with a tranquil soul, could have produced, and Hebe was very, very jealous.

[Melody Bang-Bala G6]

Melody scrubbed at a plate with bad-tempered gusto, the enormous soap bubbles in the sink getting more and more monstrous as her hands swilled the water round and round. Someone placed a hand on her shoulder and she kept scrubbing pigheadedly, resisting the restraining pressure, shrugging away the unwelcome gesture although tears were in her eyes despite her defiance.

“Thoo’ve been very rude to thy grandmamma, Melody,” her mum told her. “We’re staying in her house – we’re her guests – and thoo should do as she asks.”
“But askin’ me to give ‘er me wand is like askin me to cut off me arm,” Melody protested, knowing that there was very little possibility of conveying to her mum, a Muggle, just how important her wand was to her.
“Dunnot be so melodramatic!” her mum ordered, sounding thoroughly annoyed. “Thoo know as well as Ah do that she’ll be givin’ it back when we leave. She jus’ wants to make sure you can’t do any ‘magic’ while thoo’re here in a house where the school isn’t monitoring thoo… Ah’d expect thoo to understand all that better than Ah possibly can.”
“Okay, so like askin’ me to cut off me arm but promising to sew it back on?” Melody edited.
“Ah’m not goin’ to argue wit’ thoo, Melody,” her mum said threateningly, “and thoo are goin’ to apologise to thy grandmamma and do as she asks.”

There was no arguing, and later on that evening Melody presented her wand in its tattered black box, her beautiful ebony wand, 10 inches, unicorn hair core, to her grandmamma, albeit with singularly bad grace. Her uncle’s eyes glittered as she handed it over. Melody retreated to her room and tried to calm down, flicking through photo albums, stroking a stone cat that Hebe had sculpted for her as a present, reading a chapter of her new Transfiguration textbook… and she did manage to calm down. However, she still felt a deep sense of unease and loss – being without a wand was almost like being a Muggle again, powerless and helpless, and she didn’t like it.

[Hebe Bang-Bala R7]

((Almost certainly PG-13... sorry. Read on if you want to.))

It wasn’t premeditated or anything.

She’d gone upstairs early, around 9pm, wanting to escape an evening family circle as tense as she’d ever encountered. Melody was in her room, in a strop – something, incidentally, that only happened once in a blue moon (well, her little cousin usually got what she asked for without any need for a strop!) – all because she’d had to hand her wand over to their grandmother. Hebe could understand why Melody didn’t like it, but the Ravenclaw had relinquished control of her own wand so many times now that she barely batted an eyelid at it. From Hebe’s point of view, it was nice to see a little bit of fighting spirit coming out in her younger cousin; it was good to know that the trait was there.

Anyway, so there Hebe was, upstairs, getting ready for bed in a lazy, luxurious kind of way. She changed into her pyjama trousers for comfort and ran some hot water in the sink to wash her face. Hebe’s mother was visiting tomorrow, another thing that happened every once in a blue moon. Hebe didn’t know the woman very well; she’d been a strict parent when Hebe was a little girl, and proved to be just an unenlightened Muggle when it came to the question of whether Hebe could attend Hogwarts or not. But still, there was a part of her that longed to be closer to her mother, and that part of her wanted to make a good impression tomorrow. She washed behind her ears with meticulous care, and then, deciding to wash her hair, she ran more hot water in the sink until it was almost full. She turned round to grab the shampoo from its home by the side of the bathtub, and then with a huge shock, noticed that Grandmamma was standing in the doorway, two wands in her hand and a strange, twisted smile on her face.

“Hebe, darling, could you give me some help, please?” Grandmamma said in a manner as unfamiliar and disturbing as the smile. Hebe began to demur, pointing to the hot water in the sink, but Grandmamma wasn’t interested. “It’s a little early to be getting ready for bed, don’t you think?” Grandmamma said, her intonation strained and disapproving. “Our guests will think you very uncivil; I had to make your excuses for you. My own son come to visit, and little miss Hebe hoity-toity won’t stay up past nine pm for the benefit of her family? I never imagined you could be so ungrateful,” Grandmamma hissed, stepping closer, breathing her stink into Hebe’s nostrils.

“So I thought,” continued Grandmamma, stepping even closer as Hebe quailed, “I thought you might like to remind me why I bother with you, miserable wretch that you are.” She stroked one of the wands she was holding down Hebe’s cheek; the tip was hot and Hebe gasped. “Yes, that’s right, my dear,” Grandmamma said. “I can’t learn unless I have the chance to test out what I’m taught, mm?”
Grandmamma laid Hebe’s hand flat and pulled open her trembling fingers, placing a wand into her palm. It was not Hebe’s own: it felt strangely light and insubstantial, compared to her own wand. A glance downwards confirmed that it was Melody’s wand. Hebe looked back up at Grandmamma, her eyes wide.

“A duel!” Grandmamma proclaimed. “Let’s see how high and mighty you really are... what's that? No?” Grandmamma’s voice shook with rage and incredulity as Hebe mutely shook her head.
“No,” Hebe said in a very small voice. “It’s Melody’s wand. She’s underage. She could be expelled.”
“Would that be such a bad thing?” Grandmamma asked slyly.
Oh Merlin. Can she read my mind?
“I won’t,” Hebe said simply.
“Oh, you won’t? Well, let’s see whether you don’t change your mind, shall we?” Grandmamma threatened, magically sound-proofing the room. Hebe suddenly realised that the door was closed. What was…?

“Crucio!” Grandmamma suddenly flicked her wand (my wand!) at Hebe, a look of savage delight flitting across her wrinkled features. Hebe screamed as she endured a searing physical pain worse than anything she had ever imagined. No one could hear her, only Grandmamma. She didn’t know how long it went on for, but just as she thought she must surely lose her mind, it stopped. She was lying on the floor of the bathroom, curled in a ball, and Grandmamma was there, except she wasn’t Grandmamma anymore, but some grinning, dangerous, sadistic lunatic whom Hebe had never seen before in her life.

“Are you ready yet?” the lunatic asked, mockingly. There was a pause as Hebe stared at her, trying to remember the reasoning she’d been so sure of before… and then the stranger lost her patience and started to cast the same, hateful spell again. Hebe knew she couldn’t endure it, not again.
“No!” she shouted desperately, springing up and causing the other woman to pause in surprise. “No, don’t, don’t…”

But she heard the beginning of the curse again, the herald of torment, and she cast her own spell before the ending was completed. A powerful gust of cold air knocked the lunatic backwards, eyes bulging in rage. Seeing the murderous anger in the other woman’s eyes, Hebe acted to finish what the spell had started. The woman was old and feeble, no physical match for Hebe’s youthful strength, and underwater no words or curses held any power. Hebe’s wand dropped out of the lunatic’s hand as she went limp.

But Hebe would make quite sure: she didn’t want any nasty surprises. Before letting go she would leave enough time to make quite sure that the lunatic was dead.

Wait. Dead?

Oh God. Oh God.

What have I done?

[Hebe Bang-Bala R7]

The woman’s eyes stared up at Hebe, unseeing but still somehow accusatory. Hebe found herself mesmerised, unable to break the gaze of the dead... until she heard someone turning the door handle of the bathroom. The door was not locked.
“Oh! Oh...” Hebe cried out, startled and panicked, but still the door opened. In stepped her uncle – not Melody’s father, but the other uncle. He quickly took in the situation, but did not seem shocked or grieved in the slightest. Possibly he looked momentarily surprised.
“ ‘Oh’ indeed,” he said, raising his eyebrows. They stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, realising that he wasn’t going to say anything further and was leaving her to take the initiative, Hebe spoke up.
“What are you going to do?” she asked haltingly.

Her uncle laughed. “I might ask you the same question,” he responded, almost cheerful. Hebe couldn’t help but continue to stare at him. “What are you going to do, Hebe?” he asked. “Are you going to take the consequences of what you’ve done? Or will you accept my help?”
Hebe couldn’t help but gawp at that one. “Your help? Aren’t you going to turn me in?”
He laughed. “Well, I could do. It would be very convenient. But it would seem rather uncharitable. After all, you’ve done me a favour. Your grandmother was becoming a nuisance, far too insistent on controlling everything. You’ve merely brought forward the inevitable.”
The gawping continued. “Are you serious?” Hebe asked weakly.
“Perfectly so,” her uncle assured her, smiling broadly as though there was not a dead person between the two of them.
“But I...”
Her uncle suddenly seemed to lose a little patience. “Hebe, the matter is entirely in your own hands. It is your crime.” His tone softened. “But why should you take the blame for it? You, who have already endured so much, made to suffer for ending it?”
Hebe couldn’t break eye contact. “How... how can you help?” she asked, not believing that she was asking her uncle this question. But then nothing was quite real right now.
“You will have to shift the blame to someone else. I will help you do that.”
“To...”
“To someone else.”
The staring was back. “I can’t,” Hebe said, shocked and awed.
“No? And an hour ago you couldn’t have killed your grandmother. Yet here we are.”

He had a point. “Who would take the blame?” Hebe asked.
“Someone who has already been quite clear in demonstrating her dislike for your grandmother this evening,” her uncle replied. Hebe staggered back as she realised who he was talking about.
“Melody? No... no! No, I can’t.”
“You will go to Azkaban, then, Hebe?” her uncle asked. “Why should it always be you who suffers, hmm?”
“Azkaban?” Hebe repeated, aghast. “How long? How long in Azkaban?”
Her uncle gave a couldn’t-care-less shrug. “It depends, doesn’t it? On what mood the judge is in. Did the house elves burn his toast this morning? Will it be ten years or fifty?”
Hebe whimpered involuntarily. “You’re an adult witch, fully responsible in the eyes of the law,” her uncle pressed on relentlessly. “Melody, on the other hand... she won’t get more than five years, I shouldn’t think. Plenty of her life left.”
Hebe turned away. “I need time to think,” she said. Her mind was in a whirl.

“There is not much time left,” her uncle reminded her. “My offer only stands for so long. You must make your decision quickly.”

[Melody Bang-Bala G6]

There was a soft knock at the door; Melody started involuntarily, and hid petulantly underneath her duvet. She didn’t want to talk to anyone at the moment, because it would break into the calm and contentment that she’d been building for herself in the privacy of her room: any conversation was bound to be framed by the context of her disagreements with mum and grandmamma. The knock came again, a little more persistent.
“What?” Melody asked impatiently, her voice muffled from inside the covers. Hebe answered from the other side of the door; Melody could make out that it was her voice, but her cousin had spoken too quietly for her to hear the words. Sighing, Melody stood up and went to open the door. She could stay in a mood with her mum if she wanted to, but Hebe had nothing to do with any of it so it was only fair to talk to her. Upon opening her door, the first thing – and the last thing – she saw was her uncle’s wand pointing at Hebe, an anguished look on Hebe’s face and the wand in Hebe’s hand... pointing directly at Melody.

*********************************************

Her head was resting on something hard and uneven: that was the first thing she noticed as she woke from her troubled sleep, at around about the same time as she realised that she was a bit cold. And something small and round was digging into her left arm, on which she was resting. In fact, lots of small and round things were digging into her left arm. She was thirsty, she was achy, she was damp. She was outside?! The wind was ruffling through her hair and some sort of insect was definitely crawling up her face. Eurgh! Not a nice way to wake up. Melody sat up rather quickly, swatting the beetle off her face. It turned out that her head had been resting on a rock, and her arm had lots of tiny, sharp stones stuck to it, which had been digging into her. She brushed them off, leaving red imprints where they had been. Where was she? What was she doing here? She stood up stiffly, brushing more little stones off herself, and then froze as it came back to her.

Of course. Last night...! How could she forget? How could she ever forget what she had done? – the terrible, senseless atrocity that... she could never excuse herself for committing. She could barely remember why it had happened, just that it had happened... and she remembered a burning anger that had been replaced by cold, trembling fear. She had run away onto the moors, too afraid to face up to what she had done. And finally she was so exhausted that she stumbled and fell... she must have hit her head as she fell. That would explain why she had such a bad headache... Melody rubbed her temples, trying to think. What could she do? Rather, what should she do? What would she have done when she still tried to live her life by moral guidelines, rather than giving in to murderous rages at an instant?

Melody stood there for some time, just thinking. She was afraid of what would happen to her now, but she felt that she deserved whatever was coming to her. She hated herself for what she had done. She was a Gryffindor... she was supposed to be brave... and that included facing up to your fears. That was it. She must hand herself in to the authorities, and let them deal with her as they saw fit, as she deserved. It might be too late to start doing the right thing, but she couldn’t imagine any other way... all other paths were repulsive. Slowly, stumblingly, Melody started towards the road, a few metres away from where she had fallen, towards civilisation and retribution.