The irony wasnât lost on Wila. Elliot was sitting on her couch when he had an older sister also in the Order. But it was abundantly clear that the younger Vanity had no idea what his older sister was up to when she wasnât spending time brushing her hair or whatever it was that she did in her free time. The boy probably had no idea that his sister held the same beliefs as he did. What a sad state that that family lived in. It was a reminder that for all of Wilaâs faults as an older sister, Sarai had told her when she had gotten involved with the Death Eaters. Wila may not have pressed enough into what that actually meant or what her sister actually believed, but she had known. And somehow that made her feel better as she was confronted with Elliot.Â
She could see the fear in his eyes and she was glad to see it. She had been very intentional with her words and the way that she had delivered them. He should be afraid of speaking so plainly about his desire to join the Order to an acquaintance. One comment to the wrong person could end with you dead, that damned skull over your home branding you a traitor, leaving your family to only whisper your name in dark rooms, afraid of them coming back to finish the rest of your family off. And that was lucky if they didnât take out the whole damned family when they came for you.Â
This wasnât a game. Elliot needed to realize the danger that he was in, that he was bringing onto his family. He was a Pureblooded son of a rather prominent family. He may not realize it, but they would take his defection to their side much harder then most. They wouldnât like it, and if they caught him, the consequences would be harsh. Emma made her own decisions, and even more, Wila hadnât been involved in that. But she would be responsible for brining this boy into the Order and that wasnât something that she took lightly. If she did this, and the others agreed that he would be an asset to the Order, she would take him under her wing. Even if the rest of them didnât see it like this, his failures would be her failures. And she didnât want this young boys blood on her hands. She already couldnât save her sister from the clutches of the Death Eaters. She didnât quite think that her conscience could take much more.Â
Elliot was far too trusting, and Wila knew that they would have to break that in him if he wanted to be successful in the Order. In regular times, those traits wouldnât be the worst to have. But in a war? They could get you killed. And Elliot needed to know that. There was a lot that she wanted to say to him, but she would hold it back for now. Because she didnât know if the others would approve of him, and until that moment that they did ,then she would stay quiet.Â
Wila leaned forward so she was looking into his eyes. âIf they find out about you, Elliot, they will not stop until they destroy you. I hope that you realize that. Itâs one thing to have sympathies towards our cause, but itâs an entirely different thing to actively seek us out and to be an active participant against that bastard and the rest of them. Because they wonât stop until they get what you want.â She paused and she saw sincerity in his eyes. And a quiet bravery that she was sure was overlooked in Gryffindor tower with all of the colorful personalities that surrounded them. Even more, she saw a little bit of herself. She was doing this for a different reason then he was, she was doing this for revenge, and she had long accepted that if she was going to die, then she was going to scorch the earth as she went. Wila also realized that if he had already made this decision, that he wanted to help their cause, then he was headed towards deaths door if anybody found out anyways. They might as well channel his energy into something positive for their cause and to give him the tools to handle those desires. âAs long as you understand that you are taking a risk in this, then Iâm satisfied.âÂ
She was quiet as he spoke. âTheyâve fallen for their master because theyâre weak and scared. They think that hiding behind a mask means that theyâre brave, putting terror into the hearts of people that live in England. Theyâre not content hoarding the wealth and knowledge that theyâve held for centuries,â Wila stood up and went and poured herself another glass of wine, and she took another sip from the glass, letting his question hover in the air. She could say no, although her mind had already been decided. It was a yes from her. But she wanted to make him wait a few minutes more.Â
After a long silence, she turned back to him. âIâll bring your name up to some people. But you will not speak a word of this conversation to anyone, Vanity, do you understand me? If I hear so much as a whisper that you told someone, youâre done, I wonât help you with this. You do not say anything to your mother or your sister. And I will be in touch shortly with more instructions. Do we have a deal?â
Wilaâs words sent an icy shiver of fear running up his arms, but Elliot nodded anyway. Heâd meant what he said, after all; he knew what heâd seen. Actively standing up against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would put him in more danger than he was right now, he knew that, but not standing up wouldnât keep him safe. Wasnât it better to risk more and be an active part of the fight for better than to stand back and cower in the empty hope of someone elseâs mercy? So even though he was scared, even though he knew Wila could probably read that fear on his face, he nodded. Because he did understand. And he meant what heâd said anyway.
She stepped away, and Elliot chewed on his lip for several fraught seconds, watching her. He finally remembered the wine sheâd given him and took a hurried sip from it, just to have something to do with his hands; just to try and chase some of the dryness from his mouth. Was she satisfied? Or was she going to laugh at him, send him away as some silly half-child whose help she didnât need or want or trust? What would he do if she did? He supposed he could just walk out into the street and start shouting for the Death Eaters to show their faces, the cowards, until some of them showed-up to try and kill him; that would at least stop him feeling so useless, perhaps, although it wouldnât necessarily make his inevitable death very useful, either, so that really wasnât high on his list of good ideas. The problem was that thisâWilaâwasnât the only good idea he had, it was the only idea he had. If she said noâŚ
But she didnât. She said maybe. She said sheâd give him a chance, give him a deal. He nodded fervently, almost spilling the wine without noticing, his eyes too fixed on her face to see the way it sloshed in his shaking hands. âYes,â he whispered, then cleared his throat and made himself say it again, louder: âYes. Thank you, Wila. I wonât say anything to anyone. Not mum, not my sisters, not anybody. I promise, itâs a deal. ItâsâŚthank you. I promise, I wonât let you down.â
And in that moment of surety, Elliot Vanity felt hope blossoming for the first time since heâd left Hogwarts and walked out onto the streets of a not-so-secret war.