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chapter nine

"TAKE NO PRISONERS"

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     The courtyard was filled with a handful of students, their houses unknown since it was a Saturday, and they were trusted with making their own outfits that day. Also Sundays.

     Carmilla had sat Emilia down on one of the benches lining the courtyard, taking advantage of the decent weather, which was surprising for early October. It was cold and crisp, but both were wearing thick jumpers and only shivered a little. Emilia didn't mind being chilly. Or getting a cold.

     As Carmilla put an arm around Emilia, she couldn't help but think how good her best friend was at this. Emilia didn't feel stressed, or panicked, or anything. Because her best friend was, miraculously, keeping her calm, keeping her still. Emilia knew that, if her friends hadn't appeared, Emilia would've freaked out in the hall. She would've started to panic and those girls would've made some sort of remark and Emilia would've snapped and hit them and everything would begin to fall apart and Emilia was getting stressed just thinking about this—

     Carmilla put Emilia's head on her shoulder. "Do you want to read the article, Em, or should I read it to you?" she said. Emilia regretted what she said a minute ago. She felt like she was being babied.

     "I'll be fine," said Emilia.

     She was handed the newspaper. Emilia felt her heartbeat pumping faster than usual. The headline sat on the corner of the front page, guiding readers to turn to page four to read more than the introduction, and the caption of a picture of her grandfather. It had been taken a couple of months ago, apparently, and he looked like he always had — wispy grey hair on his head, and his skin tanned after moving and living back in Colombia for the past twenty years.

     Emilia had only met her grandfather a couple of times. The first was when she was five, and during the entirety of the visit, her godfather had been standing somewhat in front of her. The second was her eleventh birthday, when she got her Hogwarts letter. Her grandfather had insisted on staying at their house that time, which had resulted in Capulet taking time off work. She didn't know why.

     But, she remembered, the night before her eleventh birthday, when the local muggles were preparing for Halloween the following day, Emilia had been playing with her dolls and Ripper upstairs as her grandfather arrived. And she had moved to go downstairs and say hello, but froze the second she heard her godfather question why he was there.

     "You've never paid an interest in the other three," said Capulet. This had also been the day when Emilia found out where the house-elves' secret corridors were in the house. Because, as she sat in the normal hallway listening in, she saw one of the house-elves (the one called Daylily) peer out of the corridor, but hide back in when she saw Emilia and heard the raised voices downstairs. "Why now? Why with Emilia?"

     "I didn't realise how much I wanted to be a part of their lives until now," said Rupert. Emilia imagined him to be holding the walking stick he saw him for the first time, with thorns and flowers etched into the wood, like the Salvatore crest. "You can't blame me for that, can you, son? All I want is to become a part of their lives."

     "No," said Capulet. Emilia had closed her bedroom door so that Ripper wouldn't accidentally walk into danger; she peered over the banisters, carefully watching. "You know exactly what she might be capable of—"

     They had walked into the dining room, and closed the door behind them. Emilia knew she'd get into trouble if she tried to listen in, so she had given up. The thing about being capable had worried her for about a day, until she dropped it. She was already getting nervous about being around her siblings every day the next September. She was more worried about that than some random thing her godfather said, and not even to her.

     Emilia turned to the page with the full details inside. The main message was that her grandfather had been staying in London (which was news to her — he had been living in Colombia ever since she and her siblings fell under her godfather's care). The hotel staff had, truthfully, thought he might've died of old age in the hotel room when three days passed without the door opening. They knocked, no answer, they peered their head into the room, and nothing.

     They alerted the Aurors when they found blood stains on the carpet. And, now, it was presumed that someone had broken in, attacked him, and taken him elsewhere to finish the job.

     Emilia felt terrible for saying it, but she wasn't particularly surprised someone had gone after him. He had helped Grindelwald. But, he had cleared off before it was made illegal to help Grindelwald, so he got off Scott-free. He was still hated for what he had done, and Emilia figured this was the work of someone Grindelwald had terrorised.

     "He's going to be dead," said Emilia. Carmilla frowned. She was still treating her like a bruised toddler; Emilia had trouble not snapping at her for this. A mixture of emotions swam in her bloodstream, and she could feel it. She could her insides warming in anger but cool down in worry. The energy they held weaved beneath her skin, between blood and bones. She imagined rods of electricity, almost. It was just a little thing that made her feel nice. Special.

     "Maybe, he hurt himself, and he went to a pharmacy, or something, to get bandages," said Carmilla. She scrunched her nose up. "Oh. Spells. I forgot."

     "From what he's done, he's probably been hunted down by someone he's hurt, or someone related to someone he hurt—"

     "Do you think—?" Carmilla paused. She frowned. "Voldemort, maybe? They say he might be the next Grindelwald — even worse, maybe... He could've done this..."

     "What, gone after an old geezer who's barely stepped foot in the UK since the sixties?" said Emilia. Carmilla raised an eyebrow at geezer. Emilia shrugged. "He is. Was. I don't know. I should write to Capulet, see if he knows anything..."

     Carmilla nodded. "I'll come with you—"

     "I'll be fine on my own, Cam," said Emilia. "Really. I'm fine. I was angry and worried earlier, but I'm guessing that had to do with who was telling me. I'm getting a little tired of finding out about my family's drama through the Daily Prophet. The Daily Prophet! Of all the places, it's that newspaper! I can't stand this, I fucking hate this—"

     "Hey, Em," said Carmilla. She tried to move forwards, to try and comfort and calm Emilia. But, Emilia stepped back. Emilia watched her best friend's expression soften, and form a frown. "Is there anything else going on? You're acting differently."

     "I'll be fine," said Emilia. "I just need to—"

     "Don't worry about those girls," said Dinah, walking beside Melanie. Both stood either side of Emilia, smug grins on their faces. Emilia's jaw dropped. "We didn't kill them. But they won't be troubling you anytime soon."

     Melanie wiped a speck of blood off her forehead. "They're all bark and no bite," she said. Emilia felt the need to check that the four girls hadn't been murdered. She wouldn't be surprised. Really. "I hope not all Hufflepuffs are like that. For your sake, Em."

     Emilia shook her head. She had to speak to her uncle, she was fed up of only knowing things through the newspaper. She needed to ask him, she needed to go to the source. She didn't care if the source was slightly biased. She just wanted to hear something about her family from her family.

     "I'll see you in a while," said Emilia. She darted off before they could question it, weaving through groups preparing for the day's Quidditch match. She didn't have the heart to see that. Not now.

     Everything was crashing down, and she didn't know why this is was getting her so worked up. She just felt so terrible! Her grandad might be dead, she found this out through a fucking newspaper, she didn't know whether her godfather was good or bad and she knew she was supposed to be proving to them that she was rotten or something but she was desperate. She needed to speak to her godfather, she needed some information that isn't written by some reporter that's never even met her family.

     Emilia ran into her dorm room, scribbled a letter to her godfather, and bolted to the owlery. As soon as she appeared, she spotted her godfather's owl, an ugly big one that looked like he had seen the four horsemen during their weekly shop. He dropped a letter in her hands.

     Emilia Elodie,

     Meet me in The Hog's Head, Hogsmeade. 3PM. Saturday. This is urgent.

     Your Uncle Capulet

     Emilia tried to pat Capulet's owl in a "thanks, pal" way, but, he had already flown off. She discarded her letter. It was ten o'clock now; she had time to waste. She figured she may as well go to the Quidditch match, but, then again, she'd rather die than go there. She felt bad, truly, because her house was playing, and she also sort-of maybe wanted to support Sirius. But she couldn't. Her bones were close to shattering with all the emotion and energy in her body.

     You feel too much. It was the most common insult spat by her siblings, and it was always something that her godparents would reassure her, tell her that it wasn't a bad thing. But was she supposed to feel things this badly? She felt like she had fire burning under her skin, tornadoes spiralling, tsunamis destroying.

     The thing was, she didn't get why this was affecting her. She barely knew the man. And, yet, her entire world felt like it was caving in because he might be dead. It isn't even certain. It's a possibility. The grandfather she's seen twice might be dead, and here she is, feeling like she's about to die.

     She was tired. Admittedly, she ended up trudging back to her dorm room and sleeping from half-ten to half-two. Thankfully, the alarm she had set had caused Ripper to begin moving around because if it wasn't for him, she would've slept until her dorm mates returned. And possibly killed her. She had no clue what happened earlier.

     Emilia changed. She wiped off the red and yellow flowers. Her stomach hurt doing so. She didn't want to dive into the whole question about why she was beginning to feel butterflies in her stomach every time she saw that damned Gryffindor. Because, (a) she'd end up worrying so much she'd destroy the nice friendship they've got, and (b) she felt like if she didn't address the butterflies, she wouldn't fully comprehend how painful they were.

     She put Ripper into the hutch she had conjured up for the room, desperately wishing that she could get back before the others did. She couldn't deal with her rabbit getting killed. She'd probably combust into flames if that happened.

***

     Hogsmeade was quiet for a Saturday. Admittedly, it was because the usual crowds caused by Hogwarts students weren't dotted around, but it still felt weird to Emilia. She was wearing a lemon-coloured hoodie, and had the hood hiding her face, just in case. She had used one of the passageways in the castle, the one that led into Honeydukes, to sneak out, and so far, it was working out fine.

     She made her way towards the pub her godfather had specified. She had only been in there once, and that was because The Three Broomsticks had been overflowing and it was quicker to get a drink from The Hog's Head. For a reason. The place was dirty and dark and felt like countless ghosts and germs were lurking and lingering. But, it was known for it's customers, whom would wear dark cloaks to hide their features in fear of being recognised.

     Emilia fit right in. Because, now that she had the blue hair, she stuck out in a crowd. And, since most of the people there wore black to stay inconspicuous, she didn't think she'd fit in, considering her hair was blue and she had a light-yellow hoodie on.

     She walked into the pub. A man in a dirty old cloak sat at the bar, and growled at her. Emilia was this close to crying and asking the man why he was scary. She was having a rough day. She wanted a holiday.

     She spotted her godfather in the corner, and bolted towards him.

     "Emilia Elodie—"

     "Rupert," said Emilia. She sat down. "What's up with him?"

     "No pleasantries?" said Capulet.

     Emilia ignored the eerie feeling he always had. She didn't have time for that. "Look, Uncle Capulet, I'm under a lot of pressure for no reason because he might be dead," she said. "And, I also feel terrible for being here because I didn't get to support my house or my friend at the Quidditch match today because I, I don't know, I felt too much, I guess, and I got tired, and I wasn't up to it, and—" She paused. "Please, just tell me what's going on. I'm tired of being out of the loop."

     "Your grandfather was terrible, I hope you're aware of that," said Capulet. Emilia nodded. Not the best way to begin, but okay, cool. "But, as far as you're concerned, you don't need to worry about him. He isn't our family, and he hasn't been for years. He decided to show up twice in your life, because he wanted to make a profit."

     "A profit? What the fu —  what the hell?"

     "He viewed the way that you... felt too much as an advantage," said Capulet. "When Rupert became aware of this, he thought that he'd be able to rise in the ranks of Grindelwald's successor quicker than usual."

     "I don't get it," said Emilia. "How is that enough—?"

     "Your grandfather was a very greedy man," said Capulet. "He wanted more than he deserved. And he got what he deserved."

     Emilia felt her heart stop. Did her uncle—?

     "How's school?" said Capulet. Emilia felt like she had been hit with a Stunning Spell. She might be talking to a murderer, her godfather might be a murder— "I got those letters from your head of house. You should know better to hide this from me. I could've easily gotten you out of all punishment... And I did, didn't I?"

     "Um, yeah," said Emilia.

     "That's because we Salvatores deserve the best," he said. Emilia wished her seat would swallow her whole. She wanted to get out of this. "Our family is strong. It's a shame that some taint the blood. Your grandfather, especially." Emilia stared in shock. Capulet clapped his hands together, and she jumped, and he smiled. "So! How's school?"

     "Good," said Emilia. She had to elaborate. She didn't want to elaborate. She wanted to leave, quite frankly. "They've been giving us a lot of advice for what to do after school... Um, and I made a new friend."

     "A new friend?" said Capulet.

     "Yeah," said Emilia. "Um, Sirius Black?"

     Capulet's eyebrows rose. She narrowed her eyes. She also felt incredibly confused. Why was she feeling so defensive over him? Why was all of this happening today, of all days? Why, why, why?

     "The one that was kicked out?"

     "The one that left his family," said Emilia. Capulet didn't look approving. "He's really nice, though! You know, all of my close friends are in Slytherin, it doesn't hurt to branch out—"

     "I see," said Capulet. "You're friends?"

     "I think so?" said Emilia. Why was she questioning this? She needed another nap, honestly. She had thought too much today. She needed to rest. Her tongue felt tired from talking and explaining. Merlin. "But, yeah, I made a new friend, I got an A on my Potions essay last week—"

     "You do understand that he doesn't believe in the current rise to power?" said Capulet. Emilia squinted and nodded. "I'm sorry, Emilia Elodie, I just don't understand how you can befriend someone like that — and with that mudblood—"

     Emilia snapped, "Don't call her that!"

     Capulet stared at her. Emilia felt her stomach drop. She talked back. She argued. She was dead. She was going to get murdered. She was fucked, she was going to die, she was going to come back as a ghost to protect Ripper the Rabbit.

     "You've changed considerably," said Capulet. Emilia felt her palms go sweaty. "I suppose you're busy with homework and whatnot. And this new friend, I suppose. But it should all work out, Emilia Elodie. You'll come back around."

     I'm not doing that if it means abandoning my friends.

     Emilia stood up. She forced a smile. It physically pained her to smile. "I'll see you at Christmas," she said. Capulet nodded, and she left. She tried her best to walk at a normal pace until the door to the pub closed behind her. Straight after that, her hood was back up, and she was darting back to Honeydukes.

     She didn't get it! Why was this freaking her out? Why did she feel so defensive towards someone she's only really known for, what, around two months? Why was she so dense, not realising why her godfather had such a thing against Carmilla? Why had it taken this long for her to realise this?

     Emilia slipped into the basement and the passageway back into school. The whole time, her thoughts were racing. She had always known that her family was dark in terms of how many scandals they've had over generations, but she didn't think it was like this. Her uncle most likely killed her grandfather. Or, at least, knew about it. Approved of it. She couldn't believe it.

     Her godfather was fine with the murder of his own father. Rupert had been around to see Capulet and Marie's upbringing, it wasn't the way Emilia's relationship with her father worked. Capulet knew his father's name. Emilia had to make one up. Capulet knew his father. Emilia probably would've thought Capulet was hers if her siblings weren't around to call her the reason their parents ditched them.

     She needed to speak to someone. She knew that. But her friends wouldn't get it, not entirely, they were all lucky and had good families.

     It took a minute, but she finally got there. She had one friend with a shitty family! He would understand! He'd been fine listening to her talk about it! Probably. Hopefully. Well, she had to risk it. She wanted to speak to someone with the same sort of family as hers — dark and grim and most likely hiding a body under the patio.

     One of the girls in Ravenclaw turned the corner and into the corridor Emilia had been walking down. Emilia thought it was Laurel Crouch, and, the thought was quickly confirmed when she smiled, in the way that they knew the same people.

     "Hey, um, you know Sirius, right?" said Emilia.

     "Since I was a toddler," said Laurel.

     "Okay, lovely," said Emilia. "Do you know where he is?"

     "Remus said they're going to the party in the Hufflepuff common room," said Laurel. She put her hands in the pockets of her jeans and smiled. "Apparently, there's some girl Sirius wants to snog."

     "He—?" Emilia paused. No, she wasn't doing this now. "Um, thanks — I'm guessing Hufflepuff won the match, then?"

     "Weren't you there?" said Laurel. Emilia pulled a face. Again. She wasn't doing this now. She wasn't going to try and explain what was going on with her family. At least, not to someone she didn't know. She normally trusted people easily, but not with this. She can't risk this. Not with how Capulet's dealt with Rupert. "Um, yeah, Hufflepuff won. They're celebrating."

     Emilia frowned. "Aren't you—?"

     "I'm planning on relaxing for a while," said Laurel. She grinned. "In a few hours, I'm going to have to deal with my friends being drunk, so."

     "Oh, well, um, I'm going to go to the party," said Emilia. I guess.

     "Wait — you're the Hufflepuff! Shit!"

     But Emilia wasn't listening. She was in a daze. She had an issue with not properly listening and processing what people said, and normally she tried her best to listen and understand, but not right now. Her brain was going a million miles an hour. She felt physically pained from how much she had been feeling.

     And even then, that made no sense! Everyone else felt emotions, why was it that she couldn't deal with this? She feels emotions the same amount as other people, but it doesn't make other people's skin itch and burn and hurt. Why hers?

     Why was this happening? Why now? Emilia didn't know what was going on. On top of the family thing and her body being incapable of feeling emotions, she was very completely aware that the butterflies in her stomach were swarming and pulling her lower, closer to the earth's inner core.

     And she didn't know how to control any of it.

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laurel!!!

i know that this chapter was kinda just em running around but i think it was okay? maybe a little interesting? who feckin knows i sure don't

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