Scopophobia | H. POTTER [4]

11 | isolation

"So when's my next trip into the Dark Lord's mind," Abigail inquired. She had been with Sirius for a week now and it hadn't been brought up. She would have thought that now that she was home they would be doing it more often.

Sirius placed down whatever book he had been reading and looked at the girl, "You're done with that."

"Oh, am I now?" she replied. Ever since she had arrived, she had stopped trying to fight down whatever her first initial response to things were. She stopped using her filter, as her father would say. Not that she was very good at that to begin with. "Under whose orders?"

"Dumbledore's," he answered and Abigail couldn't help but roll her eyes, "He thinks it's doing more harm than good."

"Wild guess," Abigail began, crossing her arms over her chest, "He thinks that's the reason I'm, how did you guys put it, 'lashing out'?"

Sirius let out a huff as he crossed his legs and rested his hands on top, "He thinks it's definitely a contributor."

"Ever think it has more to do with the whole seeing the future thing than anything else?" she pointed out, resting against the arm of one of the couches. "If his concern was what would result in a change in attitude maybe he should have rethought the whole training me to be a weapon thing."

Sirius ran a hand over his face, "He wasn't using you as a weapon, he thought it wouldn't be that draining on you. He was wrong."

"I find it hard to believe that Dumbledore cares about what happens to me."

"Of course he does."

"On the topic of all things Dumbledore, another thing that boggles my mind is that the most powerful wizard alive had no idea that James and Lily had changed their secret keeper. Or that Peter was actually the spy for the other side," she pushed herself off the arm of the couch and stood up straight. "I would go on but I'll leave you with that. Maybe you should stop defending the man who was probably the reason you were locked away in Azkaban for twelve years. And even now."

Sirius picked up his book again as she made her way to leave, "I'll call you down when dinner's ready."

"Don't bother."

Abigail wanted nothing more than to go back to where she was a year ago. Practically clueless about everything. Even more unaware of the extent of her power. But she was happy. She would give up a lot not to feel how she felt right then and there.

The worst part of all of it was that she was cut off from all her friends. Because even when she had been at school and not talking to them she still had the option to. Now she had no choice but to assume how they were doing and assume that they were okay.

"Abigail," Sirius spoke from the door, "There's a letter for you."

She perked up at this, turning slightly to look at him, "From who?"

"Dumbeldore," he answered and she laid back down.

"Throw it out."

"Don't you think you should read it?"

"I don't care what the old man has to say."

"You might."

"Throw it away," she ordered, gripping the sheets on her bed, "Now."

"Alright," he huffed, "I made dinner. I can bring some up if you-"

"No, thank you," she responded, not even sparing him a glance. At least even in an agitated state she still had manners, "I'm not hungry."

And that's how the next month was spent.

Sirius would come into her room and try and get her to talk or eat but she refused. He tried everything. He even had Tonks and the twins and anyone else he could think of that would help come over and give it a shot but to no avail, the girl remained silent. She was stubborn.

"Abby, you have to come out of your bed at some point," Sirius informed her. "Eat something. Drink something. Say something. Anything," he pleaded, "Do something that'll indicate life."

"Get out," she replied. Her voice was quiet and dry but still comprehensible. She cleared her throat, "Leave me alone."

"Please, Abigail," he pleaded, "It's not good for you to lay around like this. Especially someone like you."

"Someone like me?" she mused, turning over to look at the man, resentment clear in her expression, "There are no other people like me." He glanced to the floor for a moment and the girl sat up, ignoring how light headed she had grown from the action, "What are you not telling me?"

"There's nothing I'm not telling you," he replied, pushing himself off the doorframe he had been leaning against.

"I'm not an idiot Sirius," she reminded him, "I may not know what it is but I can easily figure it out."

He raised his hand, "Stay out of my head."

"Then tell me what you're keeping from me."

"It's not really my thing to tell."

"Well no one else seems like they will," she pointed out, "Just tell me, please."

He shook his head slightly, "I really shouldn't."

"Then you leave me with no choice."

"Wait, wait," he spoke quickly, "I'll tell you." She raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain, "Your mother."

"What?" Abigail froze. No one ever talked about her mother. Not her father. Not anybody. "What do you mean?"

"She was like you," he explained and Abigail's hand moved subconsciously to the locket that hung around her neck. It had become a nervous habit of hers, rubbing the locket between her fingers. She was certain it was better than her alternatives. "She had the same...talents."

"So then why did everyone act like they'd never seen anyone like me before?" Abigail demanded.

"Because your mother's circumstances were different."

"In what way?"

"I think your father would like to be the one who talks to you about this."

"Then I want to talk to him," she ordered, "Get him here or I will go after him myself." Sirius looked wary and she narrowed her eyes at him, "You and I both know that I will go after him if that's what it comes to."

He nodded, "I can't guarantee he'll tell you anything."

"He will," she replied. "He doesn't have a choice anymore."