Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Crossover ❯ Anya LeFey ( Chapter 22 )

Chapter 22

Anya had hated her name for as long as she could remember. Especially after her mother had explained that she was named after a she-demon from a muggle TV-show her mother had loved as a teenager. It had taken Anya a lot of screaming to get her mother to stop calling her "Anyanka".

Her best friend and companion in misery, Willow, hadn't been as lucky (the character she was named after had no other names).

Also, for as long as they could remember, both girls had known that they were witches.

Powerful ones, as her mother loved to tell them.

Much to their mothers' regret, though, neither of them had been able to get a proper magical education.

Born on Earth (at England, to be precise) and into powerful, rich families, both of them would have had golden childhoods were it not for the raise to power of the Dark wizard called Voldemort.

Both their families had been against the man, but had decided not to openly act against him.

As it turned out, it had been a fatal mistake.

Both light and dark had turned their backs on them, and when the Deatheaters had raided their ancestral homes there was no help.

Both them and their mothers had already been sent to the colonies, and thus were the only ones that survived.

If that sort of thing didn't tie people to one another, they knew not what did. The four of them had become inseparable.

And then war had exploded in the muggle world.

Through it, and realizing that their daughters now stood a nil chance of getting to Hogwarts, their mothers taught them magic.

When the letters had arrived, five years late, they had been ecstatic.

And now both of them were Voldemort's prisoners.

Hogwarts, first and foremost stronghold of light, had been the first to fall.

They both watched, horrified, as Voldemort cursed one of his own servants.

They were expected to survive (and stay sane) while in the power of this madman??

The horrifying death of the blond girl at the hands of that. . . that. . . that creature, clearly showed what this people were capable of. . . what they were willing to do, and it put into blinding obvious perspective how little any of them could do in this situation.

The calling of her own name and the sudden bout of murmuring that overcame the Great Hall awoke her from her musings and she moved to take her place under the hat.

There were already two couples of "masters" and "slaves" standing to the side, and six children had already been picked into the "death" group.

For a second, she wondered if all of them were muggleborns and then decided she really didn't want to know. She had enough muggle friends to know that there wasn't anything wrong with non-magical folk. The thought of someone hating and killing people for something they couldn't change made her queasy.

The hat was set on her head, and she heard a tiny, weathered voice speaking within her mind.

-"You do know I have to do this against my will, don't you?"

-"Still, this is wrong."

-"Believe me child, I know. I'm trying to keep as many alive as I can, but the parameters set are. . . difficult."

-"Perhaps you are not trying hard enough."

-"Very Slytherin of you, my dear, to ask of people more than what they can give."

-"But we are not talking about houses."

-"And yet, it always come down to them."

-"Does it?"

-"The appropriate question would be "doesn't it?". Voldemort, heir of Slytherin, or at least his followers, believe in the purity of their blood."

-"If our blood hadn't mixed, we would be extinct."

-"But this has happened in more recent times, child. And the Deatheaters believe in the one that upholds the way of thinking of Slytherin."

-"A man that lived in a different world."

-"Indeed."

-"But surely Voldemort realizes this. I've been told he is a half-blood himself."

-"You begin to understand. This world works on appearances, child, and those can be deceiving. Now, I believe that you should LIVE!!!"

It took her a second to realize that the last word had been screamed out to the school and that everyone was waiting for her to move.

With a flushed face, she took of the hat and handed it to the Deatheater. Those selected for life welcomed her with open arms, and they all took places so that they could, hopefully, welcome their friends and relatives into life.