Something Golden

48.

January 9 1997

Granger has been different ever since new years, not in a bad way but different nonetheless. She's focused, determined to take down Voldemort and I believe in her, truly. If anyone is capable of doing so it's her but I'm worried, there's a lot she still needs to learn. For starters, her occlumency is still terrible. One of Voldemort's favorite things to do is use one's mind against them, their fears, memories of loved ones. Granger is a walking bleeding heart and that can very easily be used against her.

The next is her combat skills. She's an excellent duelist but without a wand all she's left with is that big brain of hers which is helpful for strategy but ultimately useless when someone is charging at you with a dagger. I keep having to remind her that us death eaters are cross trained. We were forced to become resourceful with and without magic, I could easily kill someone with a fucking feather if I needed to.

All I've been able to think about as of late is what happens after I finish mending the cabinet. The aftermath of me killing my headmaster and death eaters invading Hogwarts. War. War is what happens. Sides will be chosen and even more blood will be shed. Sometimes I think she forgets that we will be on opposite sides when this happens.

January 15 1997

"How many people have you killed?" Granger casually asks as we're laying in bed.

"How many goalposts are there on the quidditch pitch?"

She wastes no time in answering "Six."

"Times that by five."

"Merlin!" She gasps. "I mean, I guess that's not as bad as I thought it would-"

"Or by six.. maybe seven.. eight? Honestly Granger, I haven't a clue." I shrug. "I got bored of keeping track after 5."

"How on earth does one get bored of keeping track of how many people they've killed?"

"When it surpasses the number five." I reply. "It just became too tedious at that point."

Truth be told, I could give her a number if I wanted to. I don't know it off of the top of my head but I do have the ability to figure it out. If I had to guess I'd say just north of 60. I remember their names, their faces, where they lived, age, family members. I'm given extensive files on each target and part of my job is to study them, memorize everything that I can. It's not that I intentionally remember these facts, it's just how my brain works. Once I've learned something it sticks.

January 23 1997

"You're not even moving out of the way now!" Weaslette complains.

"And yet you still can't mark me. Honestly, you should be extremely embarrassed at this point."

I've agreed to continue to train her on the condition that Granger begins partaking as well. They're both dreadful and seem to only get worse each time, I didn't know that was possible. Freckles lunges for me again and I simply take one step to the left to avoid her completely, ruffling her hair as she passes by.

"Are you trying to be terrible at this?" I genuinely ask. "At this point I think a bloody first year would have a better chance at stabbing me."

"I'm trying!"

"Well if this is you putting in effort I can see why Potter has no clue you fancy him. Minimal effort is a waste of time, energy and will provide you with no results. It's all or nothing."

She attempts to take a cheap shot at me while my back is turned but I grab her wrist just as the tip of the blade was about to make contact with my neck. "That was better." I smirk. "It almost seemed like you were actually trying to kill me that time."