Once Severed
Prologue
Every spell that can and cannot be cast, has a definite cost. One may not realize the cost when casting the spell or learning the spell… whatever. Many witches and wizards think that there are no boundaries in magic, that it is some fix it all solution. Most of them, never learn that what they are thinking is not the truth. They stay inside the nice little boundary lines that were set up for them when they went to school.
I crossed the line. When I was young, before I went to school. At the time when I was making up the spell, I really had no reason to do it… other than the want of fame and love from the people. I had no thought of the cost of the spell in mind. That is why I didn't both to look into it. When I though that the spell was complete and perfect… I was dying to try it out. My spell would help so many people. They would never have to fear again.
Fear the three unforgivable curses that is.
I was to smart for my own good. I was walking down the street one day and I saw a girl being beaten up by three boys. She was a werewolf, for sure…. it had been a really sad thing. She had just gone out for a minute one night and one had bitten her. At the age of two. Ever since then she had been the target of other people's hatred, all because she forcefully became a monster once a month.
I yelled at the boys, "Get away from her, or else you'll be sorry!" The boys were much taller than I was and I think that they had attended at least one year of wizarding school.
"What can a shrimp like you do against us? Besides, why would anyone care about a werewolf… come on…Join us… it will be fun…"
"No, and that is your last chance." I pulled out my fathers wand, he no longer used it, he said that magic gave him a stomach ache after what had gone on between him and his brother. He no longer had the will to use it. He let me play with it though, his own opinions of it should not affect my opinions of it. I should be allowed to explore and find things out on my own he said. The older boys laughed when they saw the wand. They knew that it had to belong to someone else in the family.
They weren't smiling when they saw what I could do with it. I waved the wand in a circular motion and screamed "You can't kill me, Ah-oo-rey-a!!!!!!!!!!!!" a blinding flash of light came out of the wand, it wrapped itself around me and the boys, they would never be able to cast an unforgivable curse again. If and only if I had cast the spell right; if even the slightest mistake was made, then the spell would be go and backfire you. But then, something happened, I felt a growing pain in my head, my mind, my very soul almost. Then I heard a voice whispering to me, "So you give me life… so you give me form…everything, everything, everything… I can see it at last. The world, the sun, the moon, the sky. So clear. "
The light faded; the boys were long gone by now, "Huh, who are you," I said aloud." No one but me or the werewolf girl was there.
"I have not a name, I am you, though not really, I am your shadow the part of you that is not visible, the real you that is underneath it all. Hazelle…. no Severin.. is who I am. I am no one, except who you are."
Every spell has a cost.
I sighed and looked out the window, wonder, forever wondering. I needed to decide where to go with my life. I had played both sides for way to long. It was time to choose a side. But which side could I choose, there were so many of them… and they all had their valid points. Some may be liked more than others, same may do things that are considered wrong in nature, but all of them are valid. In some odd way. To choose a side though… meant in my mind to say that one side was more valid than the other.
I knew the side that everyone thought that I should choose, the side that a lot of people thought that I should choose; but what was the side that I wanted. "Rose, if only you were here, you could make me laugh at myself…"
To choose takes thought… and mind. "Learn from the past, learn from the mistakes that have been made and try not to make them again." That is what the man who had called himself my father had said to me when I came out into the world.
The past is where we begin.
I fingered the old clothes lovingly. Most of them were either handmade, from a charity or, in point of fact, borrowed from people who didn't think to ask for them back after I had moved. The clothes were memories from another time and place that I missed a lot. With the death of my father, I had been dragged over the ocean to a village near London, to my uncle's family. I would live with them until I was 17, then I would be free to (in my uncles words) die as I please. He and my father were not on good terms, as I understood it from both him and my father.
I felt out of place here. On the wall was a calendar with all the days marked that I would have to spend here. Upon my arrival, I had been given an overview of the rules of the place (all of them summed up to one thing – keep the place clean and don't make to much noise) and a forced shopping trip with my uncle's wife. Needless to say, if it wasn't for the existence of fashion, this woman would be entirely useless. She was annoying, ignorant, and obsessed with all the things that I thought to be irrelevant in the world. The first manner of business with her was getting that 'ugly dye out of your hair, it is the most beautiful color, prized by generations, and you think to ruin this with dye, it is a crime dearest.'
Come, let us make you beautiful.
I've had nightmares about it for weeks. Part of me though, had struggled to get out onto the surface, to try the different experience. When I had lived with my father, we had never had that much money and shopping trips were rare. Shopping trips like that one had never existed. Going to an expensive barbar shop to get you hair done…. not just trimmed, but washed, cut in a stylish manner, and restored the platinum blond that I had been born with (it took about three hours to get the dye out of my hair). (My hair had the tenancy to be changed colors randomly.) Then ventureing off to the tailor to get some robes made just to fit me, out of nice fabric that wouldn't start to fray five months after you got it. The off to get some more cloths… decent cloths, and new shoes of course. It was the most horrific part that came last, surprisingly. You would thing that the most horrific part was the restoring my hair to the family blond. Nope. It was the makeup.
Makeup. the true entrance to the woman's world. "you can put this here and that there, and you can substitute that for this and this for that…. and this would look better for you and don't put that there."
What? It was tempting to fade out and let "the other me" take over and deal with the situation but that would be to risky. The other me had a temper. The other me did not like to conform. The other me had a sense of humor that was odd and my new family may not understand. The thought never occurred to me that my other self might fit in better than I did. I saw her as only being evil, as making my life a living hell at every corner.
In the shock of all this, I was able to speak out a request, I wanted a new wand. One of my own, it didn't have to be that nice, it just had to be mine. They looked slightly shocked that my father had not bothered to buy me a wand, so they took me, to the finest shop for wands around. Ollivanders. After the shopping trip, I was informed that I would no longer be needing to wear the old muggle clothing that I had been brought up with. The new clothes would do just fine. They made an effort to introduce me to some of the other girls that they deemed acceptable (I thought them disgusting, no that word is way to harsh… let us say for an appropriate term, annoying). After about a month though, they gave up and tried to keep me hidden from the world, only bringing me out when it was thought to be of profit to them. And what profit it was: "taking in that girl, honestly, what a favor of you," everyone would say to my uncle.
I mean, how could two good people like that be evil?
They were all good and light in the eyes of the press now, I bet (good thing I didn't read the paper that often). They needed the good reports too, judging on the state of the family name. Appearances were everything when trying to get away with what they were, especially when the rumors about you supporting some psychopath were actually true. Or at least in theory. I myself had not taken the time to look for the evidence of wrongdoings. I think the evidence would just show up when bidden. Of course, this is not how the world always worked when it came to proving right and wrong.
Speaking of, my uncle had been wanting to talk to me about some type of family thing….Some odd organization that all the family, except my Aunts sister, (I really believe her name started with an A or maybe it ended with an A, could it possibly be both… nah… or maybe yah) belonged to or supported. I think that he was hoping that I wouldn't disgrace the family like his brother did.
I got up from where I had been sitting and headed out of my room. I walked down the hallways, up the staircases, and into the main part of the house. I needed to get out for a day or so. I walked past my uncle's study and found the rack where they kept the broomsticks, all the latest editions of the nimbus. My uncle looked up at me and raised one of his eyebrows as a way of saying – where are you going?
I didn't know. That was the problem. I didn't seem to know what I was doing or where I was going or what I wanted to do with my life. I was kind of stuck in the image that I was now, unable to change because of my other side that I constantly tried to suppress. What if she came out and hurt everybody here? The flower, the dragon, and the devil. My new family could not possibly stand up to her when she came out. If she came out. I had to avoid them all, at all costs, she must be suppressed. Straight to the loony bin for me, if she came out.
"I will be back before too long. Midnight at the latest."
