/𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒\ [𝒔. 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌]

𝟑.𝟙.𝟤

"imagine smiling after a slap in the face. then think of doing it twenty-four hours a day." ~ Markus Zusak

Artemis woke the next morning with her throat tight with choked tears and her hair messy. She slowly pulled herself out of bed and stood at the full-length mirror, taking into stock her appearance. Her hair hung limply around her shoulders, trailing almost to her waist giving her a wild, untamed look that was matched by her baggy jeans and sweater that was so large it hung nearly to her knees. Her face was sallow and pale and her blue eyes looked ravenous, hungry for anything that wasn't this.

She hated it. In that moment, she hated the way she looked so much, tears pricked her eyes. She was done. Something had to give. She hurried to her bedside table and rifled through drawers before finally coming up with a sharp pair of scissors. Then, with only a second's pause to take a deep breath in the mirror, Artemis grabbed a handful of her own hair and chopped a sizable chunk off without second thought. The brown tangles fell limp in Artemis's hand and then cascaded to the floor.

It took her almost an hour to at last cut her hair to a length she felt happy with. It fell to her shoulders and stopped short in choppy lengths framing her face. It looked bad, she knew that, but it was different. To her, it was perfect.

She wore a set of plaid pants and a fitted button down shirt to go downstairs for breakfast. It had been nearly a year since she'd put on clothes that actually fit her, and it felt odd. Artemis was mildly uncomfortable with it, but she couldn't look at herself in the baggy clothes anymore. She needed to move on.

When she got down to breakfast, her aunt, uncle, and cousin were all sitting together at the table, already eating. Nobody acknowledged Artemis until she sat down and cleared her throat loudly. Aunt Isobel looked up and her jaw dropped. "What have you done?" she said in a hushed voice.

"Haircut," said Artemis, reaching for a piece of toast.

Gregory snickered. "You look like a rat."

"Real creative," muttered Artemis.

Aunt Isobel and Uncle Gregory were eyeing her up with curious expressions. Artemis could practically see the gears in her aunt and uncle's heads turning, trying to figure out how her behavior could be considered disrespectful. "Are you trying to embarrass us?" Uncle Gregory said at last. "We can't take you in public like this."

"You don't take me in public anyways," said Artemis. "Anyways, I actually wanted to tell you that I won't be here for much longer." She sat up straighter in her seat, feigning confidence in herself. "I've decided to move back in with my mum."

"You what?" Aunt Isobel asked, her voice so low it was almost inaudible. "What are you talking about?"

Artemis set her mouth into a thin, emotionless expression, carefully hiding her shaking hands under the table. "I don't want to stay here anymore. I miss my mum and I want to go back and stay with her."

"After all we've done for you!" Uncle Gregory erupted, his fist pounding the table as he lost his temper. "You ungrateful little-"

"All you've done for me?" Artemis felt her own temper flare and she stood up. "All you've done for me? Really? You hate me! Admit it! You hate me because my mum's a muggle and you've treated me like dirt my whole life! You only brought me in because you didn't have a choice- and I'm done! I'm going back to my mum's and there's nothing you can do about it."

Uncle Gregory was on his feet in an instant. He let out something that sounded almost like a snarl, and then he was on Artemis before she had the chance to get away. Blinding pain shot through her skin under her eye, and then again on her cheek. "You- ungrateful- brat!" her uncle was shouting in her face. She kept her eyes squeezed shut. "You're going off to live with that muggle bitch because you think you have it bad here?" Artemis cried out as her uncle Gregory grabbed her by the hair and pulled. "You have no idea how lucky you are!"

"Get off of me!" she screamed, her arms flailing wildly, trying to land a punch wherever she could. "Anywhere is better than here!"

Uncle Gregory released her, but only to reach into his pocket and draw his wand. He held it under Artemis's neck and she froze, only her chest rising and falling rapidly. "I think you'll find very shortly that you're wrong about that. There are a million places worse off than here and trust me, we could make things much, much worse for you."

"Get- away- from me," Artemis said through gritted teeth.

There was a tense moment of silence, and then her Uncle shoved her away and put his wand back in his pocket. "Get out of my sight," he growled. "If you're leaving, then leave."

Harry was still shaken up from what he'd witnessed when the scene changed and he was back in Artemis's bedroom, watching her scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment at her desk. He took a step closer to pear over her shoulder and immediately noticed the quivering in her hands. A little droplet of water spilled onto the parchment and Artemis swiped furiously at her eyes before resuming her letter.

Mum, you have to let me come home. Please.

She already had half a page written and Harry scanned over the letter. She was begging her mother, pleading her to let her come home. It made his chest constrict. She was twelve. She was twelve years old and she was already at war. She pushed her choppy hair away from her face and rubbed at her eyes again before going back to writing.

I'll get a job. I'll help out around the house and I can help with money and everything, I just can't be here anymore. I want to come home. I hate it here.

He watched as she finished her letter and the scene at last began to fade. His last vision of the little girl at the desk wavered as her face crumpled and she laid her head down on the desk, her shoulders shaking with sobs.