Purgation Ⅱ

Exhausted and annoyed, after being ignored by Severus all through Alchemy, Rowan made her way to the library seeking out a bit of peace and quiet. During class, Professor Boas still did not know exactly what to make of the situation. Professor Boas had attempted to get the two of them to speak in a prior class but had been treated to curt responses from Severus, and emotionless responses from Rowan. In the end, much like their classes earlier in the week, Professor Boas lifted his hands in defeat. He knew better than to intervene in youthful disputes, especially the familial kind.

Rubbing her tense temple with one hand, Rowan entered the library. The prickly librarian, Madam Irma Pince-Filch, a dark-haired witch with suspicious eyes quietly nods her head at Rowan, before returning to carefully attend to an old book. Some snot-nosed brat had thought to read the ancient manuscript not realizing just how delicate it was! The audacity of that wretched heathen! (Likely a Ravenclaw or someone sneaking into the Forbidden section, again!)

Through the library, Rowan made her way into the corner of the library. It was noticeably empty as Peter and Sirius were off with Regulus, and James with Terry. Somehow James had become close friends with Terry strangely enough. It was a strange mystery, to say the least.

The window in the corner of the library reveals that the day is overcast and gloomy with thick gray clouds hanging overhead. Utterly worn-out Rowan slumps down into a chair and just sits there in silence until she regains some measure of energy. After some time, she finally reaches into her schoolbag for a letter that she had just earlier that morning but had not had the time to read.

The letter was from Jean Delacour. With a crinkle of a smile, Rowan begins to read the letter of her dear friend. It was nothing new it was mostly gossip such as the fact that Igor Kakaroff had run off with the female Dark Arts Professor to America. The Kakaroffs were less than thrilled as was the Headmistress of Beauxbatons, Madam Maxime.

Rowan privately smirked at the news and continued to read. It wasn't until the end of the letter that Jean dropped a bombshell. He pronounced with great joy that his wife, Apolline was pregnant. A daughter would be born unto them in late September. They had already even decided upon a name for their unborn daughter, Fleur Delacour.

Rowan pensively calculated the math in her head. The timeline was more or less correct. Fleur Delacour had to be born between 1976 and 1977 in order to be able to originally compete in the Triwizard Tournament in Potter's time.

A faint smile appeared on Rowan's face at the thought that Molly Weasley might once again end up as Fleur's mother-in-law. Although whether Fleur married Bill (or maybe even Percy Weasley) was very much up for grabs. Still privately, she hoped that this time around Molly Weasley would be in more favor of the match. But then again, Molly Weasley did have a bias against magical creatures or rather someone possessing a Veela heritage.

Carefully folding the letter, Rowan puts the letter away to respond to later. She would have to ponder on what to send to Jean and Apolline for Fleur's birth. Either way, she still had plenty of time to do so since Fleur would not officially come into existence until September.

Footsteps past the bookshelves bring Rowan out of her personal thoughts only to see Mary MacDonald. The shy witch from their 1st year had transformed into a formidable Quidditch player with short dark brown hair cut just under her chin. Yet the confident girl suddenly seemed to have returned to resemble more of her past quiet self. Furthermore, there were dark eyeshadows under her eyes.

"Sorry, Rowan, I hadn't noticed you sitting there," Mary apologized clutching a stack of books in her arms.

"It's alright, there was no harm done. Have a seat," Rowan gestured to the empty space around her.

"Thanks," Mary muttered carefully setting her stack of books onto the table.

Rowan idly glances at the book titles, before her face stiffens. Abruptly all emotion vanishes from her face and feigns ignorance. "Are you interested in Demonic Possession, Mary? You do know that Demons are actually dark magical creatures and not from another plane of existence?"

"Ah, yes," Mary stammers nervously, "but Spirit Possession existed in the past and is even recorded in history. The wizards and witches of ancient times believed that the Spirits from the Beyond could possess a body to do their will. Muggles on the other hand called these Spirits from the Beyond, Gods, and Demons. These Spirits were worshipped or greatly feared depending on the spirit."

"And how would a witch or wizard know that they are being possessed?" Rowan carefully asked all the while observing every single movement of Mary's as a sense of terrible dread filled her. It was not fear, but rather a terrible certainty. A certainty, so terrible that she dared not even voice much less think.

"The tales of old aren't exactly clear, but there are certain trait marks such as an inexplicable loss of time," Mary self-consciously answered, "viewing one's action as if in a third person, the subtle changes in the psyche overtime as if influenced by another existence until the entire psyche changes," she abruptly fell silent with a sickly expression on her face.

For a moment, Mary's features harden and soften as if another version of herself or rather something else attempts to peer through her eyes. A silent fierce internal struggle occurs before Mary wins. Remnants of terror and worry fill her eyes as she lets out a loud pant as if she had greatly overexerted herself.

Upon noticing Rowan's lingering gaze, Mary weakly smiles and tries to cover the awkward lapse. "Sorry, I haven't been feeling very well as of late. It's just a passing curiosity of mine, that's all. There is no need to be overly concerned."

"We are all entitled to our own hobbies and interests," Rowan responded in a friendly tone of voice. "Excuse me, Mary, I hate to cut our time short, but I do have a Prefect errand to run," before grabbing her still-packed school bag. She nodded once at Mary, before her disappearing into the corridor and beyond the bookshelves.

Mary wraps her arms around her unable to suppress her body from trembling. She could feel it inside of her. IT had tried to take control, but she had been able to successfully fight it off. IT had retreated for the moment, but she knew it would attack again, especially in her sleep (or rather in her dreams).

Her arms tightened reflexively about her body at the mere thought. Mary's lips tremble as she tries not to cry. She hadn't always been like this; it hadn't truly begun until their third year. Then everything slowly began to change bit by bit.

At first, she thought it was simply nothing, but slowly she began to lose track of time. And when she was not losing her time, she began to have other thoughts in her mind. Thoughts she would have never contemplated on her own. Yet these thoughts kept gathering more and more growing stronger with each passing day. She was so afraid, but she didn't dare to tell anyone not even Lily or Willa.

Still, the worst of it all felt was when she began to feel as though she was sharing her body with someone else. It only worsened until she couldn't tell where she began, or IT began. She wasn't just Mary then, but rather she was THEY.

Mary shudders and flinches as if unable to even stand to remember. Yet she could not run away from herself. There was nowhere she could run and hide from it. It was already inside of her.

Mary stifled a sob, but her shoulders shook from her distress. She dug her nails into her flesh as if to anchor her to the present. The only relief she had found was that ever since the Hunter's Moon, she had slowly begun to awaken and regain strength. Something happened that day, the thing inside of her had somehow been weakened. IT steadily grew weaker and weaker inside of her until she finally was able to take control once more of her body.

Letting out a sigh, Mary slowly unfolded her stiff limbs. She didn't know what had happened, but all that she knew is that IT was weak for now. However, she knew for certain that would not last. She had seen far too much into their mind. They would not permit her freedom. They would come for her again. And she would once again become a part of them.

Mary frowned with great determination. She wouldn't give up so easily, she was a Gryffindor. There had to be something she could do. There just had to be! Otherwise, she wasn't certain what she would do.