A/N : I'm hoping that this will be quite a long story with lots of chapters, so i know there are some things that are a little confusing in this chapter but they will get explained! :) Really excited about this. Aurora will be traveling back to the late 1940's and will meet Tom Riddle at Borgin and Burkes. Thats when the main plot will start, so don't worry, our favourite dark wizard is coming into the picture soon enough.
A Short Epilogue :
Aurora Dovecott is nineteeen, beautiful and a VERY strange witch, with a VERY VERY strange past. She has recently regained the use of her magical power after nineteen years (oh yeah, did i mention she's been reborn?) and would really like to find out who made it possible. But the world is in crisis, a disturbed cult a threatening to blow up the planet and Aurora has become a useful pawn in the battle for survival.
-o-o-o-o-
"Jerome, for goodness sake will you stop wriggling like that!" The witch glared at her pocket in annoyance, her companion was irritating her greatly.
"Why don't you try being shoved into a smelly pocket for hours on end!?" Jerome hissed, poking his scaly head out of his hiding place and flicking his long black tongue at her.
"I'm sorry, okay?" She sighed, flicking her white blonde hair over her shoulder and tapping her pocket affectionately. "You won't be in there too much longer, I promise." The ivory royal python hissed dramatically and slithered back into the pocket of her black pinafore dress obediently.
"What was that!?" The large, overbearing wizard who was guarding the door boomed at her.
"Parseltounge." The nineteen year old blonde stated simply, scuffing her Doctor Martin boot across the tiled floor of the Ministry of Magic courtroom. The wizard sneered at her.
"Disgusting." He muttered. She wasn't offended. Ever since she first realised she had regained her powers, she had mentally prepared herself for this, among several other possible outcomes.
She had wondered if they would make a scapegoat of her and throw her into Azkaban, or place her on a pedestal for all to look up to in these troubled times. But whilst she was entirely prepared for the way people would treat her now, she could never have been prepared for the Minister of Magic's insane plan.
Two hours earlier, he (Edward Kindlefeather, The Minister of Magic) had filled her in on the issues that had arisen since she was separated from the Wizarding World and she realised that there were even worse people than Voldemort and his Death Eaters. There were a group of people, both muggle and wizards alike, who believed that they had unlocked the power of eternal life. They also believed that the rest of the world's population were unworthy to live because they did not follow their rules. In short, it was a terrifyingly crazy cult.
The cult, who called themselves 'The Forefathers' had been started by two men, one a wizard, the other a muggle. They (apparently) discovered an artefact which offered eternal life; some speculated it could be the Philosophers Stone, or something similar, others guessed it to be a kind of Horcrux. Either way, the pair had begun to sell their secret to people (muggle or not) in return for their loyalty, trust and a measly five million pounds. This was clever though, as the Minister had said, because it meant they were only targeting the rich and the powerful. They had also sold them the secrets of their all-powerful God. The only God that truly existed, and who gave good people wealth and prosperity and bad people poverty and disease. Their God taught 'The Forefathers' that they were special, they were good and pure and they alone deserved to live forever.
And now, years later, they were in a terrifyingly powerful position. Experts had decided that it was highly likely that the two men who began the cult were nothing more than con artists selling their 'elixir of life' to make a quick buck. But now they were either missing, or dead and in their wake they left one thousand followers, who believed that they were immortal.
So, these 'Forefathers' made up of an extremely dangerous mix of the rich and those in positions of power, (People speculated that even the President of the United States could be one of them) had realised that with twenty-first century technology in all of its glory, combined with magic, they could make one hell of an almighty weapon. And who could stop them? They were the most powerful organisation in the world, and the wealthiest.
So, in short, there was a very large group of powerful witches and wizards who believed that the poor should all die and they were planning to very unceremoniously blow them up with a giant magical nuclear bomb.
"Well, fuck." The blonde witch had stated once Kindlefeather had finished his tale. "I missed a lot, didn't I?"
The minister had only given her an indecipherable grunt in response to her rhetorical question. "You understand why you might be a bit of a cause of concern for us, don't you Miss Dovecott?"
"Oh, because I was turned into a Horcrux by Lord Voldermort when I was an infant? Or because I selflessly killed myself to help end the war?"
"Both." He stated clearly.
"Well, I bet Harry Potter isn't getting this kind of treatment." The witch muttered. The Minister raised an eyebrow in warning. "Look, its ok, I understand." She continued, forcing a small smile. "I got a lot of good press for killing myself, it almost made everyone forget I was ever associated with the Death Eaters. I can see why my blatant…." She paused, finding it hard to find the correct word "aliveness, might be a little inconvenient." She shrugged, looking up at Kindlefeather with big blue eyes.
"These are troubled times, Aurora." He sighed, finally starting to loosen up and sat down in one of the many arm chairs in his large office. "You're technically a war criminal." His tone was almost apologetic now.
"I killed people on both sides, I know. But only those who were killing for their own interests or entertainment, I saved innocent lives." There was a large bubble of anger threatening to erupt from her chest.
"We all know that, Aurora. You didn't earn the title 'The Daughter of the Dove' for nothing. But the people are scared, they don't want another war. There will be some who remember your darker days, when the Dark Lord raised you as his equal, and there will be others, whose loved ones you couldn't save, who are still bitter. Either way, once they know you're alive, they'll be angry."
Aurora looked down at the tattoo of a dove on her right wrist, it winked at her. "It's not my fault he made a Horcrux for a Horcrux. I thought I was going to die, isn't it the thought that counts?"
The Minister of Magic laughed. "I'm afraid not."
There was a long moment of silence. The grandfather clock in the corner of the room suddenly became too loud and the seconds ticked by five times more slowly. Aurora wondered for a moment about her existence, something she tried to avoid as it confused even her. When she was just three years old a mysterious stranger had rescued her from Wools Orphanage and taken her home to the white cottage on the cliff. She could still remember the scent of sea water and the harsh blistering wind. She remembered the pain and the screams, she remembered his experiments. The Dark Lord had wanted to create a seventh horcrux, but not just any old inanimate object would do. He wanted flesh and blood, he wanted a human horcrux. Not particularly practical to keep one immortal, but the power, the taboo, the experimentation, all appealed to him greatly. Then, a few weeks later, the Dark Lord lost his powers to Harry Potter, and back to the orphanage she went. When she turned eleven, Professor Dumbledore took his second trip to Wool's and informed her she would be going to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But then, in her seventh year, Voldemort rose to power again, reclaiming Aurora as one of his most prized death eaters. She remembered the evening that he gave it to her, the necklace. It was small, a discrete brass locket, the same shape as a two pence peace with a glittering green emerald in the middle. He never told her what it was, that encased within it was a piece of her soul. So, when she, so ceremoniously killed herself at Riddle Manor, she didn't imagine she would be reborn. And that's where the whole story became a mystery. Her body perished but a new one was made, just a second old, an innocent little baby girl. The muggle caretaker found her and took her to Wools. Back where she started. But this time, there were no magical powers and Dumbledore never rescued her. Her new body was a muggle and the only connection she had with her past life were the necklace she had been found wearing and the dreams which haunted her every night.
"So, we might as well cut to the chase Minister. What is it you want?" The white haired witch leaned her tiny frame against the tiled wall behind her, nibbling on her thumb (an old habit) and gazed at the politician with wide eyes. He sat up straighter and cleared his throat, in an attempt to seem less approachable and more intimidating. "You know the saying Miss Dovecott, 'You scratch my back, I scratch yours…"
"And what if i don't want my back scratched? What if I want to go back to my normal life that I've been living for the last nineteen years and keep myself far apart from the wizarding community?" Her life had been just fine before she'd collapsed in the middle of London and woken up to find the bloody necklace glowing like kryptonite. She was doing well at university and had her future career all lined up. But she was back to being a witch and all that didn't matter anymore.
"You don't have that option I'm afraid." He strained his voice to sound stern and authoritative. "My cabinet wants me to act. I could throw you in Azkaban to show that the Ministry is capable, or I can rejuvenate your reputation and clear your name."
Aurora thought for a moment before answering, the thumb she wasn't chewing gently stroking Jerome's head. "Alright, what's the price?"
Kindlefeather smiled briefly. "The Hogwarts Founder's Shield."
The witch rolled her big blue eyes, why did the entire world's problems fizzle down to ancient artefacts?
"And where is the 'Hogwarts Founder's Shield?" She asked mockingly.
"It was destroyed in 1952 by Grindelwald and his men." He said gravely.
"Well." she started. "Isn't that handy?" The nineteen year old smiled sarcastically.
"So you will have to go back there to get it."
Aurora laughed, surely this old coot couldn't be serious! Time travel that far back was impossible.
"This is no joke Dovecott!" He shouted, suddenly angry. "As Minister of magic I have made the decision that no muggle will find out what is happening until it is absolutely essential. That shield is the only source of magical power that could equal the bomb."
'Well that answers it then.' Aurora thought, 'He's lost his fucking marbles.'. She decided to humour him. "Why? What does it do?" She asked.
"It's like a sponge for magic, it absorbs power and catalyses it." He was quieter now, clearly embarrassed. "We will announce the plan to the cabinet, have a very ambiguous story written up in the Daily Prophet, and then you will go."
She thought she might humour him some more and ask him how exactly she would be travelling.
"Time sand; the kind found in time turners. It works much like floo power. The use of it, of course is highly illegal and dangerous, but" he paused, much quieter now, "under the circumstances."
Aurora's heart beat started to pick up. He really meant it. This was his plan and either she went along with it, or she would be thrown into Azkaban. She glanced over at the door, a large, burly wizard stood in front of it, blocking her only exit. She was trapped.
"Now then." He spoke again, "I will go at fetch Miss Claddenbowl, she will be interviewing you for the story and writing up these events. She will be here in a few moments, do make yourself comfortable." And then he left, his tartan cape flouring behind him.
And that's when Jerome had started wriggling.