Lost in Memory
Accolade D. D.
Warning:
I have used J. K. Rowling's world of magic.
Note:
This is part of the story started in Trials and Tribulations. Go read it, or you might not get this. Or you might understand anyway.
Thoma leaned back against dripping stone, the back of her sodden robe slowly soaking. Her jaw clenching, she threw her journal against the wall and listened unsatisfied to the dull wet thwack of the incomplete, ink-covered pages. A broken pen was lying on the floor out of the reach of her thin, starved arm. She had thrown that, as well.
She stared balefully at the horrendous text that her hand had had to write, almost like she was under a charm. It brought up emotions she was not proud of. Love. Loss. Frustration. Friendship. Anger. The list went on. Thoma had hoped if they could escape her through the rivers of dark ink she wouldn't have to know them anymore, they would go away and leave her tortured head alone.
None of her memories were happy. She could remember them all so clearly, like watching a murder from a window. Even the earliest ones.
Her eyes slammed shut as the heavy weight of her past dragged her back down.
* * * * * * * *
Snape was berating me.
"MacDougal! In my entire time teaching at Hogworts I have never seen such sloppy work!" Snape's tirade continued, "Look at this!" He waved a hand over the disorganized potions ingredients. "How can you tell these apart?!"
The students were looking at him, looking and staring. He had never done this to a Slytherin before. The Gryfindors were snickering in happy puzzlement, but I was calm. I could see the telltale signs of a fairness potion.
"And what do you have so many bat wings out for, you dunderhead! Thyme isn't even in this potion! Are you listening to me?!"
"Sir, yes I am listening to you. And I have a very good reason for the bat wings and thyme." I was getting fed up even though it didn't show. This summer all the talk had been of Voldemort, I had met Harry Potter, and as much as I didn't want to admit it I missed Samantha. All of this and the fact that he was the one in error made me want to curse him. I didn't.
"And what, exactly, would that be?" Snape's tone grated in my ears.
"You gave us the wrong instructions. A maaticulus potion of the sred kind requires these." I shoved the jumble of ingredients into the cauldron. The brew turned a violent shade of purple. "You gave the class the specifications for a drep maaticulus potion. There is a significant difference."
Snape looked rather put off. "Hmph…how would you know?!"
"From the effect you were talking about. It didn't fit."
Snape dismissed the class. "You can all go. I want you," he pointed at me, "to be here early next time. I need to talk to you."
I need to talk to you. The exact same words Lady Marianne had used…
"You idiot girl!" She slapped me for the third time. I looked straight ahead like always. "Did you think I wouldn't notice?! You've been FRIENDLY to your tutor! And she's been friendly back!" Another slap. I didn't mind. I deserved it. I had been careless.
"Get out of my sight!" She turned her back to me. I lost no time in getting out of her chambers, but I made sure not to move faster than a walk. She would notice, and then I would get more of her fear cures. Those were never pleasant.
I went to the room she called mine. I sat staring at the icy walls.
So like now. Cold walls, cold hearts. The coldest heart of all…
"Get rid of it. A daughter is of no use to me."
"Yes, my lord."
My mother had had no intention of following his order. She had worked too hard for the esteemed position of bearing Lord Voldemort's heir. I was too young to understand then, but not now. I was supposed to be her road to glory. Instead I was her ticket to death.
"Lady Marianne, help her dispose of the child."
"Yes, Lord Voldemort." Lady Marianne came forward and took me out of my mother's arms.
Mother knew she was trapped in a corner. Something drastic had to be done so I would live. My life wasn't what mattered, but her future was. Without me she would just be another Death Eater.
Mother went along with Lady Marianne to another room nearby.
"How are we going to do this?"
"We aren't." Mother took out her wand.
"What?!" Lady Marianne backed away from the mad woman in front of her.
"Metamentalis!"
So Lady Marianne took me as her own. Lord Voldemort knew nothing of this. Lady Marianne had also had a child, a girl. A very unfortunate girl. She had come with her mother to the meeting. She died so I could live. I don't even know her name. Names are important.
"You are called Thoma Marvala Riddle. In honor of your father. Don't forget that, daughter. Don't forget who you are."
Her last words to me. I haven't forgotten. I will never forget who I am. Or what I have become. What I have been forced to be.
"Girl, just do it!"
"Why?" He lost patience with me. I still have the scar.
"Kill it!"
"NO!"
He smiled that horrible smile of his. "When I'm through with you, you'll wish you had just killed the damn snake. Avada Kadavra!" Green flashed and the thing was dead.
He was wrong. I had no remorse for what I did. The next time I killed it. Why give yourself trouble. I also had no remorse for killing after that. I consider it putting things out of their miserable existence. It is not a delightful thing to do. I do not rejoice in death. Death is pointless if there is no purpose behind it. My purpose was avoiding what would happen if I didn't kill.
The screams were loud enough to wake the dead even before the door was opened. I was led into the dungeon once more.
Then it began and I had to work hard not to scream myself.
After I saw them gloat over my pain the first time I resolved never to let them have the satisfaction again. I would not let them see my torment. They would not see. I would have at least that dignity.
If there is such a thing as dignity, or honor.
They were laughing at me again. I continued walking, ignoring them.
I always paid them no mind…perhaps…NO. Lingering is for the foolish. So why did I dwell…
The snow was icy underneath me. It was a place to be alone.
As if alone was really a choice…
I could be alone, or I could go insane.
Am I insane now.
* * * * *
She wandered on to other forsaken memories that time had made reclaimed.
