Title: A Forgotten Destiny
Author: Simply Kateh
Summary: Is it possible for forget your destiny? With a strong enough oblivate you can. But now she's having these dreams that she thinks are trying to tell her something, and when she finds and old trunk in the attic she knows they are. Her only question is: why?
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, there is no money being made from this story, just personal amusement. Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling and her various publishers.
Claimer: I do own all original characters such as Cara Goldstein and her friends and family, and I do own this snazzy plot bunny.
Pairings: To be determined. Requests?
Rating: T.
Reviews: Reviews are always welcomes, and constructive critism is welcomed more.
Chapter 1- Wish Spells and Math Books
Wish Spell
Horse Shoe
Red Candle
Paper
Quill
Black Ink
Tweezers
Light the candle in a darkened room, once lit place the horseshoe around the candle in the middle of a table in a darkened room. Write what you wish on the paper with the quill and ink. As you write chant: What I want I write here, Please take my dream and bring it near, What I want is What I should get, Let all my dreams now be met. Afterwards, take the paper and fold it into fours, then take the tweezers and hold the paper over the candle and let it burn. Picture yourself with your wish fulfilled as the paper burns and send waves of love at the image you conjure of yourself.
"What I want I write here, Please take my dream and bring it near, what I want is what I should get, let all my dreams now be met," she recited slowly, reading confidently from the blue binder that she treasured so dearly. It held her life, every spell or ritual she had ever tried was in that binder. Dipping the quill into a small cup of ink, which she had bought on her trip to historical Williamsburg, she wrote something in illegible chicken scratch onto a small strip of loose-leaf paper she had ripped from a marble notebook.
Cara looked into the candle for a moment, admiring its blaze, and then shut her eyes tightly, screwing up her face in concentration of what she wanted. She could see the strange images the dreams had placed in her mind over and over again. She wanted, wished for, answers. She wanted these dreams to be the real deal, prophetic and true. She wanted more than she knew the spell could give her, but it was worth a try. She then took the strip of loose-leaf, folded it in half and, using the tweezers, placed it into the dancing flame and watched as it blazed and shriveled.
Pulling the tweezers out of the flame, with nothing more left that a few burnt scraps of paper, she snuffed the candle with a large stone, encasing the bedroom in complete darkness. She left everything as it was, laid out neatly on her altar, underneath the window where they would bask in the moonlight. It was most likely reckless to leave it sit there, but it was late and if her Mother really cared, this time she would push for an answer if she asked, "What's that table thing under your window?" Because without a push, Cara thought that her mother might never find out about her many secrets.
She planned to tell her mother, of course, but she simply could not find the opportune moment to do so. In other words, she really wasn't trying, she had been saying the same thing for two years, and yet nothing ever changed. She was too scared, and her mother being a Catholic School go-er she knew that once the word was out there would be no returning to normal. Her mother would call her a devil worshipper, a Satanist, and all those other fictitious things ignorant people call Wiccans these days. In fact, she would probably be shipped off to Catholic School herself, forced to wear long plaid skirts and knee-highs. Of that that is depending on how her mother took the news.
Cara sighed as she climbed back into bed, switching the small reading light on her night stand on, and grabbed one of the various textbooks that lay scattered around the room, this one happened to be a Math B textbook. It was one she thoroughly enjoyed reading through and thinking out the various problems in. Although she was no true genius when it came to schooling, she was in all honors classes, even AP Chemistry, which she was so proud of. Tomorrow would be the last day of exams, starting with Math B and ending with her Chemistry SAT II, which she had prepared for weeks in advance. She would do this, she would have to if she ever wanted to get where she wanted to go in life.
She wanted to major in everything, have a degree in all sciences, math, English and histories. She wanted something that would say, "Hey, take a look at this girl, she went through all those years of studying and it certainly paid off!" She didn't want to waste those days upon days of studying for Regents exams and State finals. She wanted to show all those people who had said throughout her junior high experience that Cara Goldstein would never amount to anything. She was tired of the ridicule.
The alarm clock under the lamp told her unforgiving that it was 2 o'clock in the morning. She stared at it for a moment in awe that she had lasted this long without a single cup of coffee, which she had grown accustomed to.
"CARA! YOU'VE STUDIED ENOUGH! BED!" The yells of her mother from the hall were enough to make her shut her beloved textbook and turn off the lamp and give in to her body, which was begging for sleep. She didn't remember the last time she had a full nights sleep.
Cara took a final glance around the darkened room, in the direction of where her makeshift alter sat, and beneath it various containers of candles, herbs and oils. She smiled slightly at the look of the candle, which she would continue to burn the entire week, since she couldn't leave it burning through the night. She then sat herself down in a comfortable position, and snuggled into the sea-foam green quilt that covered her bed. The blankets were soft and slightly chilled from the air-conditioning, just the way she liked them. She closed her eyes and lay down onto one of her various pillows that littered the bed, and waited for sleep to overtake her.
The room itself was always in disarray. She was always doing some project, and her achievements hung on her cluttered walls, shrouding it so that even she couldn't remember its original color, though she had an awful feeling they had been bright pink. She had a large desk in one corner of the room, cluttered with stacks upon stacks of texts. Hidden underneath were her various desk necessities, complete with one of those nifty day-by-day desk calendars that, underneath a quote from Jane Eyre (it was a literature themed one), stated it was June 22 and not day later. Neatly placed away from the rubbish was an old computer from the year one that still used windows 98. Against the wall, under the window, was her bed. It lay parallel to the wall and was cluttered with pillows of every shape and size imaginable. Her room, in a word, was eccentric, but isn't everyone's? Plus, it was the only place that felt like home, and that's all that really mattered to her.
That very next morning, Cara woke with a start to her alarm clock buzzing mercilessly, making her heart beat uncontrollably in her chest. But it wasn't the alarm that had woken her up; it was something about her dream, of which she couldn't remember. It had something to do with the spell she had done the night before, she was sure of that, everything else was vague and fuzzy.
She remembered an official looking man in some sort of foreign robes talking to another, shorter man in what looked like army dress, with a strange symbol embroidered on the chest where the American flag should have been. The taller, official man spoke for a few minutes before the other nodded and walked off. After that was a couple, a man and a woman in their thirties perhaps. The short man approached them, and drew something, that she couldn't see, but assumed was along the lines of a gun or sword, and there was a flash of light as the man yelled something in a complete other language.
She couldn't remember anything after that. After that flash of light, everything was blank, as if to symbolize something she couldn't decipher. Quickly, she grabbed her dream journal, a small notebook with white puffy looking clouds on the cover with the word 'DREAM; in silvery lettering on it. She turned to a page about three quarters of the way though the book, passing various undecipherable pages of dream notes and nonsense. She then grabbed the pen that matched the notebook, one that was wrapped in light blue fabric with a ball of white feathers at the top. She scribbled down the entire dream excitedly, which she had actually remembered this time.
The past couple of pages in the dream diary consisted of mostly the same thing, her reoccurring dream about that strange flash of light. Now there was more, she was getting closer to figuring out what exactly this dream was telling her. As for now, she could only guess.
A/n: Alrighty. So there you go, chapter one. Did you like it? Hate it? Why or why not? I'd like to know. :) Chapter two should (hopefully) be coming up soon.