Disclaimer: I do not own anything. Everything related to Harry Potter belong to J.K. Rowling.
The Closest Thing to Love
by Margaret920
Prologue: The Diary of Nessilia Morsett
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The war had finally ended.
Voldemort was finally defeated.
Evil has finally been stopped.
Yet, as mothers buried their sons, as friends watched their loved ones lost, and as wives buried their own husbands, there is a sense of unspeakable lose, heartbreak, and pain.
However, life still needs to go on.
No matter how much one loved, life still needs to go on. Families need to be reconstructed. Lives much start anew. Love needs to be found again.
As Harry Potter cleaned an unused room exposed by the battle at Hogwarts, he could not help but wonder at the transcendence of life.
He peered behind decade, perhaps centuries, old drapes to find paintings and books long forgotten. He winced as the paintings screeched at him for being forgotten for such long periods of time. He screamed as a book suddenly lashed out at him with fangs.
He wondered as he looked around the room if perhaps he will forget, as everyone had forgotten this room. Will he forget his loves, friends, and family once they are lost? Will he still be able to remember Ginny, Hermione, Ron, Lupin, Mom, Dad, Sirius, Dumbledore, and all that he has already lost and will lose?
Will they lie forgotten in his memories just as this room has been forgotten?
No, he told himself. I will never forget them. I will never forget someone I have loved.
Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by a small crash from the bookcase behind him. Several books fell from their shelves as the weight of the tomes overwhelmed the fragile wood shelves. Harry ran over and dusted off the fallen books. They were old text books from students who lost theirs age ago and had been stowed there after the students were long gone. Harry looked through some of them, smiling and laughing at some of the doodles and notes written there.
Underneath the pile of books, Harry noticed a smaller book, clad in leather.
He dug the book from underneath the pile of dust and the weight of the other books. He hastily dusted off the thick blanket of dust covering the front, and saw, on the cover, some fancy gold lettering that read:
Nessilia Morsett
Why does that name sound so familiar?
The intrigue of the name piques Harry's interests and he curiously opened the book.
But it was completely blank.
He flipped through the pages, trying to find some kind of writing on the surprisingly crisp pages, but was ultimately fruitless.
Suddenly, an idea occurred to him, and he quickly got up and looked around for a quill. With excited anticipation, Harry sat down and wrote on the first page of the diary:
Hello, is anyone there?
He waited, as if anticipating someone to write back to him, like Tom Riddle did in his second year. Yet, nothing materialized on the page except the sinking of the quill's ink into the white pages. Puzzled and disappointed that nothing happened, Harry took out his wand and muttered a spell to rid the page of his writing.
However, nothing happened. The words still remained on the page. Harry muttered his spell again, and still, the black ink did not disappear.
Frustrated, Harry took the book and brought it downstairs to find Hermione, working on reconstructing the Main Hall.
"Hermione!" He yelled. A familiar head of bushy hair turned around to face him with a hint of annoyance in her face that hid the sadness the girl had to endure over the past few weeks.
"What is it, Harry?"
Harry ran over to Hermione and took out the book he found.
"I can't seem to be able to get rid of this," he pointed to the words he wrote on the blank page. Hermione, without a question, took a wand and muttered several spells, but to no avail. The words remained on the page.
"There must be an impervius spell or something of the like on this book," Hermione said as she flipped through the blank pages and stared at the cover of the book. "Where did you find it?"
"At an abandoned room near the North Tower."
"But there are just the divination classrooms there," Hermione pondered.
Suddenly, she gasped and looked again at the cover of the book.
"Of course!" She exclaimed as Harry looked at her, waiting for an explanation, "How could I have not recognized the name? Morsett. Of course."
Harry looked at her, not understanding the meaning behind the name.
Hermione turned around and explained to him, just as she would explain to him the difficult spells he could not understand in school, "The Morsetts are one of the most powerful magical families in England. They originated from France, and came to England during the 1200s. Many of them are extremely influential in the Ministry of Magic, and do you remember Headmaster Everard? He came from the Morsett family as well."
"So this Nessilia came from a powerful family?" Harry asked, still puzzled.
Hermione looked at him with accusing eyes, "Well if you actually read Hogwarts, A History, you would know who Nessilia Morsett is. She used to be a Head Girl at Hogwarts. But now, she is better known as Nessilia De Lorme."
"Who?"
Hermione sighed, "The wife of the French Minister of Magic! How could you not know Nessilia De Lorme?"
"Harry, you don't know who she is? Even I knew that," Ron suddenly appeared and laughed at his friend.
"Nessilia De Lorme is one of the greatest women of this century! She advocates for the equal treatment of house elves, she actively helps free them from their masters. Not only that, she is also one of the greatest feminist witches in magical history!" Hermione said admiringly, and looked down at the book in her hands, "And to think, I can be this close to my most admired witch."
Harry looked at Ron with a small, tired smile, relieved that there was that same hint of sparkle in Hermione's eyes again. The excitement of the book momentarily took them away from their usual melancholy, and the mystery distracted from their sense of loss.
"How did you know who Nessilia Morsett – I mean, De Lorme, is?" Harry asked his friend.
"I used to clean trophies with her name on it when I had those detentions with Filch," Ron answered, "I remember one of her trophies crashed against Tom Rid – "
At the mention of the name, Ron paused, and looked down. None of them spoke as the name echoed menacingly, evoking the memories of the man who became Lord Voldemort.
"You know," Hermione suddenly looked up with a small frown, "If I remember correctly, I believe he – I believe Nessilia was Head Girl during his years in Hogwarts. If I am not mistaken, I believe they were in the same year as well."
Ron and Harry stared at Hermione, not believing that such a great woman could have been classmates, or perhaps even friends, with Lord Volemort himself.
"Are you sure, Hermione?" Harry asked, skeptically, "If it is true, then that could mean…"
The three stared at the little leather-bound book, and watched as it seemed to glow menacingly, as if the book knew of their fear.
"I'm positive of it," Hermione said as she looked down at the gold lettering on the cover of the book, "I'm sure Nessilia Morsett and Voldemort were Head Girl and Boy together."
At the mention of the name, the book suddenly began to shake in Hermione's hands. Ron and Harry stared as the book fell from her hands to the floor and immediately opened to the first page. Harry's writing slowly sunk away from the page, leaving it completely blank again.
"What ha –" Ron began, but gasped when letters materialized on the page, as if an invisible quill was writing.
Slowly, the letters came together and read:
To Ness,
Happy Birthday.
From –
No. No. It cannot be.
Tom Riddle.
The Golden Trio stared at the name, written in the same handwriting as the one found in Tom Riddle's diar. The three looked at each other, not sure what implications the small message could bring.
Suddenly, the page flipped and a neat handwriting appeared on the second page. With anticipation, the Trio watched as more letters appeared on the page, and read:
Some memories are meant to be forgotten. Some loves are meant to be left in the past.
I know I need to give up on this love. I need to forget. I need to forget him.
But I ask, can you truly forget the one you truly love?
There was a long pause until words began to form. This time, the hand writing seemed more hurried.
I am here to tell the story of Nessilia Morsett, a stupid, stupid girl.
A stupid girl who was Tom Riddle's closest thing to love.
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A/N: Please Review everyone! The idea of this story really came to me this morning, and I churned this out in about two hours. Hopefully, everyone will like it.
If feedback is good, I will continue and write another chapter.
And yes, I really do love the name Nessilia.