Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters bar Ellie and her friends. The rest belong to J.K. Rowling.
A/N: Hi! I'm back to fanfiction, finally. Had a bit of a hectic year last year. I will be updating my other story soon. Until then, I hope you enjoy this. This will be another WIP. I do try to catch any mistakes in my editing processes. Let me know if I've missed any :)
Reviews are appreciated and they let me know how everyone is feeling about the story so far. Thanks! I hope you enjoy!
Prologue
"You have to have the weirdest name in the entirety of Wizarding history, Elle," said the blonde girl beside her. "I mean, really. Have you ever heard of a name like it? That even comes close to it? I haven't and we're in Slytherin!"
The girl shrugged. "No, but my father says that he and my mother named me after a dear friend, but used a... variant, I guess? They wanted it to be unique, and believe me... it's certainly unique and I like it. So shut up about it, will you, Livia?"
The blonde giggled. "Okay, sorry. I just...I still can't get over it. Guess that's why we just call you Elle, right?
"Well, you and my father call me Elle. Others call me Ellie or my proper name, but... to answer your question, yes."
"Hey, come on you two!" shouted a brunette boy about ten feet in front of them. "We have Potions next! You don't want to be late for Potions, do you, Ellie?
With a gasp, the two girls rushed forward and down the spiral staircase.
They ran into the dark room, receiving an unimpressed look from the Professor who sat at her desk. Ellie noticed that the instructions for the day's potion were already on the chalkboard. She was furious with herself. She was never this late. She always arrived before the instructions were on the board.
She took her seat next to her blonde friend and set up her equipment. She liked order and once she was satisfied, she turned her attention to her teacher.
"Today class, we are brewing Draught of Living Death, instructions of which are either: on page 10 on your textbooks, or for those who have conveniently forgotten them, the board beside me. Begin."
Draught of Living Death? Ha, easy peasy. Another O, I think...
Halfway through class, Ellie's potion was going perfectly to plan. She turned her head away from her cauldron and noted down a few steps she had taken that her friend hadn't; namely, she crushed her Sopophorus Bean to obtain its juice, and she received a more ample quantity compared to her friend, who tried in vain to cut the ingredient.
Her golden quill sparkled in the light from the flame under the cauldron; she found herself rather mesmerised by it. She felt her stomach flip and her eyes close. She found them rather hard to open.
"Ellie?" came the sudden voice of her Professor. "Be careful, your potion is overheating."
Stunned, Ellie's concentration latched back onto her cauldron and she instantly began to recover her potion. When she was happy it had been saved, and completed, she removed the cauldron from the heat and waited for it to cool, before bottling a sample of the potion and taking it to the Professor's desk.
"Right, class, time's up. Those who have finished, you are free to go. The rest of you, bottle your potions and bring them to me."
Ellie sighed and packed her bag. She then flung it over her shoulder and left the class with her friends, unaware of the concerned gaze that followed her.
"Whoa, Ellie, you're dead brilliant at Potions. What happened in there?" asked the boy beside her. "You took on a right funny colour, you did."
"Yeah, Elle. You went grey. You're not sick, are you?"
Ellie shook her head. "No, I'm totally fine. Just tired, I guess."
"Maybe you should see Madam Pomfrey?"
Livia turned to the boy, "Or, maybe, she should get some sleep. She's been up all night every night studying for Potions and Defence."
"I have not!" Ellie said, offended. "Besides, I've been summoned for a meeting with the Headmistress later, so I suppose I should get ready for that."
"Oh, ouch," sniggered Livia. "Good luck with that. Catch you later then Elles."
"Bye."
Ellie stared at her appearance in the mirror, fighting a war with her mind, trying to decide whether to charm her long-sleeved jumper a calm Slytherin green, or a bold Gryffindor red. Given that she was meeting Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, she figured a burgundy may be the better option.
After quickly casting the charm, she pulled back her long, glossy, jet black curls into a high ponytail, letting a few ringlets frame her pale face. Her hand drifted to the teardrop shaped pendant lying on her breastbone. It was a piece of amber, and it encompassed five drops of phoenix tears. Given to her on the day of her birth by her father, she didn't go anywhere without it. Grasping the gem, she prayed the meeting would go well, before grabbing her bag and leaving the common room.
She manoeuvred her way along the dungeon corridors, ignoring the looks on the faces of her Slytherin classmates, and climbed the steps of the spiral staircase two at a time with a practised ease. Walking with a pace that rivalled the stride of the Severus Snape, the Defence against the Dark Arts professor, she found herself at the stone gargoyle in a matter of minutes.
"A.P.W.B.D.," she stated, smirking slightly when the staircase sprang to life. She jumped onto a step, and waited patiently as it brought her to the entrance of the grand office.
Nervousness settled itself in the pit of her stomach when she found that the Headmistress was not at her desk. She had always felt uneasy around these particular portraits. It was like they were studying her, judging her...
"Why, good afternoon, Ellie," came a voice from above her. "How wonderful it is to see you."
"Likewise, Professor Dumbledore, sir," she replied politely. "You wouldn't happen to know where the Headmistress is, would you?"
The painted man shook his head. "She left, a mere moment ago. She should be back soon, my dear. Help yourself to a lemon drop. She keeps them on the desk."
She was certain she saw a twinkle in the former Headmaster's eye. Her father had warned her about that. It meant he knew something... or was up to something. "Thank you, sir, but I don't care for them... too tart for my taste."
Ellie watched him smile as she sat down on the visitor's chair. "I see. No matter." He shifted slightly in his seat. "How are your studies, my dear? Going well?"
She grinned. "Oh, yes, sir. Potions and Defence against the Dark Arts, in particular. Though, my progress in my other subjects is Outstanding too." She felt colour rise to her cheeks. "Well, according to my examination results anyway."
"Your parents must be proud," said Professor Dumbledore, happily. "I remember your mother – and your father – both highly skilled in everything they studied."
Ellie nodded. "I hope I do make them proud, sir."
The office fell silent then, except from the murmurings of some of the other portraits. To Ellie, it felt as if another era had passed before she heard the familiar shuffling of feet from behind the door.
She glanced upward just as the door swung open and noticed tartan robes sway slightly in the breeze their owner's movements created. She was so focused on the Headmistress' arrival that she failed to spot the person behind her, and his billowing black robes.
"Ah, Ellie," began the Headmistress. "You're here. I'm glad, as Professor Snape and I have something we need to discuss with you."
She cringed, though her expression did not give away her fear. "Yes, Professors," she replied. "What it is you wish to discuss?"
Professor Snape turned to the girl, his eyes showing neither anger nor annoyance, but concern; and Ellie was certain she was the only one who could see it. "You have been distracted as of late, in every class, according to your Professors. I, too, have noticed that you do not seem to pay attention to my lessons any longer."
She was confused, and her amber eyes met his obsidian ones. "Sir? I thought I was doing well in my classes?"
Professor McGonagall responded, "You are, my dear. Overall, your grades are exceptional. But, lately... it seems as if your concentration is slipping. As Professor Snape is Head of your House, and I, of course, am Headmistress, we need to find out if there is something concerning you." Ellie remained silent as the woman continued, "Are you well? Is something worrying you?"
Ellie stood from where she was sitting. "No, ma'am, nothing is wrong with me, nor am I frightened about anything." She found her stance imitated that of Professor Snape, though she knew hers was more defiant than authoritarian.
"Ellie," began Snape. "What is wrong with you?"
"Nothing!" she snapped, before hastily adding "Sir," to the end of her statement.
He sighed, "Minerva, if you please, can I have a few moments to talk with my student?"
The Headmistress smirked, knowingly. "Of course."
Snape took a firm hold of her arm before leading her out of the office. Closing the door behind him, he murmured a spell and turned to the frowning girl beside him. "Listen to me, Ellie. I know something is wrong with you. Your mother knows something is wrong with you. She is worried. I am worried." He placed two fingers under her chin and lifted her head, staring directly into her eyes. "Now, tell me... I am the only one who can hear you... whatever is the matter?"
"I don't know," she whispered. "I haven't been feeling like myself for a while."
"Explain, in detail," he encouraged.
Ellie gave in. "I just feel strange. It only happens occasionally. But, I feel as if I'm fading... getting weaker."
Snape was visibly shocked by this. His stance stiffened. "How long have you been feeling like this?" he asked curtly. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Answer me, Elle." He lost his patience when she refused. "Asphodel Evelyn Snape, answer me. Now!"
Tears cascaded down her flushed cheeks and she sobbed. "Over a week!" she screeched.
He was angry and Ellie cried harder. She hated seeing him angry with her. "Asphodel, why did you not tell me? Why did you not tell your mother? You promised me, Asphodel. You promised to tell us if you felt this way."
She sniffled, before uttering, "I thought it would go away."
"You know better than that, girl," Snape snarled. "You know better."
Ellie clutched her pendant and her head fell to his chest. "I'm sorry," she sobbed. "Daddy, I'm so sorry."
Snape lifted his daughter's head and wiped the tears from her eyes. "Come now, cease the tears, Asphodel. It's all right. Hush, now. We'll fix it."
A few days had passed, and it was if the disastrous meeting with her father and the Headmistress had never occurred. The only thing that gave it away was the fact that every time she entered the same room as her parents, whatever they were discussing stopped immediately. They were never secretive around her. Never.
She didn't like it. Not one bit.
For the first time in a long time, she felt herself dreading attending her father's class. Defence against the Dark Arts was her favourite subject, along with Potions, of which her mother was the Professor. She excelled in both, and was delighted that neither her father nor her mother gave her any special attention. They treated her as they would any other student and she secretly enjoyed the verbal sparring with them. It was fun to watch her father's face when she talked back. Not to mention, it gave her fellow classmates a bit of a laugh too.
She walked into the room and noticed her father at the front, placing instructions for the day's lesson on the chalk board with a mere flick of his wand. She scoffed; the Patronus Charm. He had taught her that years ago.
"The Patronus? Really? Come on, Dad... can't you give us something a bit more challenging?"
She only ever called him "Dad" when no other student was around. "Sit down, Asphodel." He smirked. "I don't expect you to have any problems with it. Your classmates, on the other hand..."
She giggled and took her seat. Retrieving her wand, she clearly spoke the incantation, "Expecto Patronum."
At her words, Snape glared at her and watched as silvery vapour erupted from the tip of his daughter's wand. The smoke quickly took form, and it gracefully flew over to him.
For her Patronus was a Phoenix.
It danced around the classroom, swirling and diving in truly breathtaking aerial manoeuvres before she called it back and it faded away.
His eyes narrowed. "Yes, Elle, as I said, you should have no problems with this spell. Now stop acting like your mother and take your seat before your friends arrive."
The girl giggled again and did as she was told. She removed her textbook from her school bag and laid it on the table in front of her. Once she placed her bag underneath her desk, she opened the book to the correct page and read a few paragraphs before looking up to her father again. There were still a few minutes before her classmates were due to enter. The silence in the room was killing her.
She stood sharply and walked to his desk. "Umm, about the other night... I truly am sorry I didn't tell you, or Mum. I just... I was scared."
His gaze bore a hole into her. "I know. But, I insist you tell me the minute you feel like that again. Do not fear your Professors, leave the class and come to me immediately."
She nodded. "Of course, Father. I will, I promise."
"Good, now back to your seat. The lesson will begin soon." His hand rose during his words and shooed her away.
"But, do I really have to—"
"—Yes, you do."
"Aww, come on," she whined before trudging along back to her desk.
Students began to pile into the classroom and the lesson started normally. Ellie listened to her father's speech about the Patronus, even though it must have been the fifth time she'd heard it. But, she paid attention, for the most part.
A strange sensation pulled at her abdomen, the same sensation she had felt in Potions, and she felt her eyelids get heavy. She shook her head, and desperately tried to concentrate.
Voices were muffled. She focused on her father's, but only heard sections. "You are to draw on a powerful memory... concentration is key... you will all more than likely fail to conjure it first time..."
A chorus of incantations hit her ears then. She opened her eyes, but found her vision blurry. She stood, panicked, and stared directly at the shape of her father.
He had noticed her it seemed, as she knew he was running towards her before everything went black.
It was a scream that alerted him. Shrill and terrified. His eyes shot up to his class, and latched onto the blonde girl beside his daughter. Livia, was it? She looked petrified. What on Earth was she scared of? Patronus charms were not harmful.
It was then he saw her, and his heart began to beat like a hummingbird's. Fear like he had never known gripped him, when he saw her face. She was grey and gaunt; scarily skeletal. Her eyes were dull and staring directly at him. Begging, pleading...
He rushed forward and caught her before she hit the floor. "Asphodel!" He gently slapped her cheek. "Wake up!"
Every girl in the class must have let out a scream then. The high pitched noise assaulted his ears and the class surrounded him.
He heard a chorus of "Is she dead?" come from the boys. Snape snarled before he roared, "Class dismissed! Get out! Get out! Not you, Miss Smith... fetch Madam Pomfrey. Now, girl! Don't dawdle!"
A sea of teenagers ran out of the room, while Livia uttered, "Yes, sir. Of course. I'll... I'll go now... be right back."
"Severus. You must think this through. You need to send her, now. You must," Minerva McGonagall's Scottish brogue was sympathetic but strict. He knew she was right.
But, that didn't matter. He wouldn't send his precious daughter into a death trap. "No. I can't. I won't."
Another woman was there. She was shorter than the Headmistress, far more delicate, and her honey brown curls framed her distraught face. "Please, Severus. You know as well as I... she'll... she'll die if we—"
His anger erupted. "No! She will die there, if we send her! How could you want to send her there, Hermione? Our daughter? You would send her into the depths of Hell on Earth?"
The Potions Mistress, his wife, closed her eyes and grit her teeth before launching forward. Her right hand collided with the side of his face. "She won't be here if we don't send her, you stupid man! Do you not remember?"
His chest heaved. Of course he remembered. How could he not? He gripped his wife's hand, his expression clenched tight in restrained emotion. "All right," he murmured. "All right."
Minerva hovered over his daughter's body, lying deathly still on the hospital bed. He held his wife close to him as he heard the Headmistress utter a spell. He couldn't make out the words; they were in a language he was unfamiliar with. But, he saw a thin, blue magical essence envelop his daughter and he watched as she faded away.
"Forgive me," he whispered. "Please forgive me."