A one shot written for the History of Magic class with a prompt of water (element for slytherin)

All feedback is welcome

As a disclaimer I dont own any part of the Potter universe nor do I make money out of writing.

Enjoy


Suffocating

There is a pond in the garden and it has always fascinated me. It is not huge, one could walk around it in a few minutes. The pond is surrounded by round grey stones, much like the pathways all over the garden. There is trees, flowerbeds, carefully shaped bushes and even a small swing set. On a sunny day there is birds and butterflies. If someone had put a statue in the middle of the pond, one of those marble ones that spurt water, it would be like any other fountain. Except it is not.

When you take a closer look at the tranquil view you will notice the water. It is as dark as the night and I have never seen it move. Even on the mightiest of storms and with wind that could take trees up by the roots, the water never seemed to move. I used to spend hours at the time just observing the water and hoping that something would happen. It never did. Once I grew up, I realized that the magic radiating from the water was dark, as dark as magic can be. Maybe it was some ancient for of dark elemental magic or maybe something horrible had happened in the beautiful garden that had tainted the water. Nonetheless it intrigued me more and more.

As a kid, I would walk right up to the edge and bend down, as close to the surface that was possible to be without touching it. Even then I knew it was not any regular pond. I was afraid of it. I was afraid of the magic beaming from it. There was no way of seeing to the bottom of it. It could have been only a foot high or bottomless. The motionless surface gave no indication. Even if one threw an apple or a stick or a leave there it would fall under the surface and never reappear. I cannot even remember how many toys, cups, shoes, books and other things I would throw in just to see if the pond reacted differently to any of them.

When I first found it I was maybe six or seven. Old enough for my parents to let me wonder alone in the massive gardens. I keep thinking that they would have had a house elf following me. They knew that the garden had places and secrets that no-one knew and it would have been pure carelessness to let a little child to wonder there alone. My parents did care for me. They did love me. I am sure of it.

As I told my parent about the pond they just dismissed it as a child's ramble, or maybe they assumed that I was talking about the fountain, just behind the manor, by the apple trees. Perhaps they never though that I had gone in so deep in the garden. I have never understood why the garden showed me this secret, and I doubt I ever will.

The pond became my place of solitude. A place where nobody could find me, no matter how much they tried. I would spend hours staring at the mystical water or reading in the swing set. It was more than once that I lost the track of time and missed dinner. And there is nothing my dad hates more than someone missing the dinner. I would get grounded and sit in my room for days, only to stare out to the garden. The moment I was let out again I would go straight to the pond. It did not matter whether I was sad or happy, desperate or hopeful. The pond still lured me to its side. Almost as if it was promising that everything would be fine.

Once I fell in love, I always imagined how one day I would bring him home. I would introduce him to my parents. I would take him to the pond. I would share the pond with him, I would share my most kept secret and maybe he would have answers. He always seemed to have answers and explanations and I was sure he would be interested in the unmoving black water. I wanted show all the things that mattered to me. I had been ready to undo every single wall I had built in my head over the years. We talked about everything. He knew my secrets, stories of my childhood, my fears and I knew his. Nobody really believed that we would last. We were from two different worlds. We were so young and naïve. We believed we could m I guess we still believed that there was such a thing as happy endings. Turned out everyone was correct. We did not last.

Because there was a war.

It wrecked everything.

I was crushed.

It started slowly. Long before it was a threat for the public there were preparations made at my house. I was told that we were under surveillance and I was not to take a step to the wrong direction. In retrospect, every single step I took during those years was wrong. They all took me further and further away from the future I was foolishly hoping I could have. Soon You-Know-Who moved in and our house became the headquarters, the war office of some sorts. I guess this is when I started losing hope.

Instead of the pond and its surroundings, school became my safe haven. Even though it was still controlled by his followers, it meant that I did not have to live with him. I did not have to fear every single step I took or thing I did. Does not mean that I was not afraid. I was, I was more afraid than I have ever been. I feared his influence. Over me, over my mother, over everyone. There is nothing worse than watch everything crumble around you and not be able to do anything. To be seen as a mere child. I knew I was on the wrong side of the war.

During those few short years that feel like eternity I lost so much. More than I can bear. I can feel the loss of my family as a throbbing pain inside me. I have no home, no name, no love, nothing. I know the rest of the world is getting over the war. They are recovering. The bad guys are being punished, war heroes celebrated. I was on the losing side. I had known it, but yet it hurt. Not because we would have had the right cause or great ideas. But because it meant being left alone, abandoned. Once again I was remarked as a mere child. I could not be held responsible for any of my actions so I was set free.

The walk through the ruins of my former home was one of the worse things I have encountered. But the knowledge of my pond kept me going. I was sure no one had found it. They would have taken every single drop of magic out of it if they had, but I was still able to hear its call. Now I am sitting in the old swing set. The flowers have died and everything is overgrown. Even the weather is grey and cold. There is some fog and I can just see the other side of the opening where the pond is. I am shivering.

The water itself is just as still as it has always been. It has not been affected by the changes around it. I guess the magic in it is protecting it. If I was not so abandoned, not so incredibly alone I probably would not have come. As much as the loss of my family hurts, the loss of my love is even worse. It has made me numb. I am not capable of even crying anymore. My body and mind are hurting too much and I feel like I am slowly suffocating. We were on different sides of the war, now he is one of the heroes and I am someone nobody wants to cast their eyes on. I am scum.

The air is still. All I can hear is the call of the pond. How easy it would be to just slip under the water. Disappear from here, just like the countless toys I used to throw there. Instead of being here with him, like I used to dream, I am here alone. Instead of being happy and looking forward to the rest of my life in a world that lives in peace I am here. Listening to the soft singing of the pond. Calling for me to come closer. To touch, to become one with the dark water. All I need to do is to give up.

I am so tired.

Only one or two steps.

The water is so welcoming.