The Scars to Prove It

The very first day that a chill breeze nipped at the Weasleys was the day they decided to make their pilgrimage to Diagon Alley. It was just after they had taken their vacation to Egypt, in which Carina volunteered to stay with Farren and her dad for the first time. The letters had come (Sadly, for their mother, the twins were the first out of the family to not reach Prefect status. They, of course, were not concerned.) the lists had been made, and the total costs figured out. The great bank, towering over all else in the small Wizarding community, was their first stop.

Carina swallowed, biting back fear. There would be nothing in her vault, she knew it, and she could no longer lean on anyone else for help. She saw the tension it put on the Weasleys — even housing her was growing difficult, though they would never admit it. Perhaps a job in the kitchens of Hogwarts? Or would they not allow her back if she couldn’t afford the simplest of supplies?

But instead of first coming across Gringotts, Ginny let out a startled squeal when she came face to face with a violent “wanted” poster in the Leaky Cauldron. George and Fred, naturally, jumped to her side and pushed Ron out of the way to get there; when they realized they were only confronting a piece of paper, they relaxed slightly. The man with scraggly hair continued to silently roar at them; Molly gave a heavy sigh.

“We weren’t planning on telling you kids quite yet…”

“Who’s Sirius Black? And Mum… this can’t be right. It says he escaped from Azkaban!” Fred turned look at Mrs. Weasley, the grin in his eye suggesting he thought it to be a prank.

“That’s impossible.” George’s brow furrowed, also looking to his mother. “Right?”

She shook her head. “Apparently not. They say he’s the worst of them all — lost his mind the night You-Know-Who was defeated. But,” she added motherly, “not even Black would be thick enough to come to Diagon Alley, so let’s not worry about it today.”

Carina paid no mind to her comforting statement. “The worst of who all?”

Mrs. Weasley turned to give Carina a half pitying, half questioning. “Well, the Death Eaters, of course.” She turned back around and began to tap out the code on the brick wall, not noticing Carina’s look of disbelief.

”What?” she breathed, staring intently at the cobblestones as she began to walk with the Weasleys automatically.

“There’s no way Black’s a Death Eater,” she said solemnly once she caught up to the twins. “My father despises him. He’s the butt of all their jokes.”

“Whose jokes?” Fred asked, not looking up from the store windows they passed.

Carina shrugged. “His, Malfoy’s, Goyle’s, Avery’s…”

“So, all the Death Eaters.” She nodded solemnly.

“It’s probably jealousy. He was supposed to be one of the favorites, I heard. Heard Hagrid going off about him a while ago,” George said with a shrug.

“I don’t think so…” Carina said, but she shrugged. “Maybe. Whatever. My guess is he won’t make it a week out here.”



“Mum, can’t we wait for you at Fortescue’s or something?” Ron asked, his ears bright red and shooting glances at Carina.

“Yeah, we’ll take you there,” Fred replied without an ounce of sarcasm or mockery.

“You guys are being ridiculous,” Carina snapped. “I have to go to my vault anyway… Stop being so self-conscious for Merlin’s sake!” She barred her teeth at George, who was beginning to get a little pink as well.

“Rina,” Fred breathed as they followed Mrs. Weasley. “I don’t think you realize the difference between your family and ours…”

Her lip curled back and seemed to be suppressing the urge to slap Fred. “I have no family,” she hissed. “I promise you’re doing a lot better than me financially. I went from spoiled rotten to an independent witch at the age of fifteen. I don’t think you understand the contempt held towards me.”

Fred, though not convinced, relented. The large family sat in the cozy-tight cart and did not have to ride far to reach the Weasley vault. Only Molly exited, and Carina made a point not to even give a glance in the direction of the entrance nor the money that lay behind it. She came back with her little pouch filled, and no one said a word as the cart began to wheel itself far deeper into the underground.

“Vault seven-hundred and one,” the Goblin said dryly, and Carina handed him the key she had kept deep in her bags since the first day at Hogwarts.

With a deep breath she stood and crossed all the legs and bumped into all the knees on her way out the cart, and with quavering legs she climbed up towards the vault. The goblin had already fiddled with the key and the locks within the door where clicking against each other until they finally released.

Some sort of animalistic noise came from the back of her throat, a mix between a croak of surprise and a sob.

“Rye?” George asked, standing to see just as her legs gave out. She buried her face in her hands, but her eyes did not sting with tears. “Rye!”

“It’s fine, George, it’s stupid,” Carina’s muffled voice responded half-heartedly.

“Is there nothing in there?” Ron whispered boorishly.

“Shuddup Ron,” Fred hissed as George crossed all the legs and bumped into all the knees to sit next to Carina.

“I’m sorry, Carina, I’m sorry they took it all. They’re horrible, terrible people and don’t know bullocks on how to be parents. It’s not your —”

Carina shook her head vehemently. “Look,” she cawed, pointing a finger at the small pile of Galleons. She ran her hands through them, knocking over their neat stacks. “There’s so much. I’ll be able to go back.”

“Back? Oh Merlin, Rye,” George sighed. “Of course you’re going back. I would have sold Fred’s broom before letting you drop out.”

“Hey!”

Neither of the adolescents heard him. It was a bizarre moment where the family sitting in the cart only feet away where a million miles elsewhere; the goblin standing above hardly even existed. Carina curled herself inside George’s arms and let the episode drift away in the scent of woodsmoke and apples.

At first, he couldn’t help but think that the vault was all but empty — it was large enough so that it must have contained an entire treasure at some point, yet currently there was only the puddle of coins in front of them. But eventually, those thoughts drifted away and he was focused on how after all these years he had never realized how soft Carina’s skin was.



There was nothing more refreshing than the hint of caramel in the tankard of Butterbeer. The strange events of Gringotts were hours past — Carina had emptied the lot, asked for the vault to be closed, and even now the children were subconsciously pushing the odd memories away.

When a girl with short, white hair plopped down next to Carina, it threw no one for a curve. No one spoke, because they did not need to.

“When do we go home?” she asked, tossing a few bronze coins to pay for the Butterbeer.

“Couple hours, I suppose. Ready for school?” Carina tossed her black hair over her shoulder so she could look Farren in the grey eyes.

“Like nothing else.”