A/N: This is my first fan fiction in about 5 years. I graduated from college with a minor in screenwriting and found it very difficult to write fiction since reprogramming my mind to write in the format of screenplays.
I have wanted to write another Harry Potter fan fiction for quite some time. This story is purely a small present for my best friend who is also and has been a writer since circa 2005. So, to my dear best friend, who is a Slytherin, this is for you… -From your Ravenclaw best friend.
This story begins in Year 6 (Half-Blood Prince), during Harry Potter's time at Hogwarts.
It is written from the perspective of a background Ravenclaw. This story is about her adventures with her Slytherin best friend.
Disclaimer: The characters and the Harry Potter Universe are properties of J.K. Rowling.
**The Empty Cage**
The cobble-stoned street beneath her feet was icy as she wandered aimlessly through a dark and misty alleyway. She reached out and touched the brick wall beside her for guidance as she walked further into the darkness. The whispers had led her down this way. They were saying things. They called her name.
She tried to find markers around her, a sight of anything familiar that might possibly give her some sense of location. She was sure that she was somewhere in Knockturn Alley. But the mist was thick and choking. Everything around her seemed unfamiliar and upside-down.
Her head began to spin and suddenly the whispering sounded as if she were hearing a conversation right beside her. But she saw no one. Nothing but more thick mist and darkness.
She sank to her knees and clasped her arms around her legs.
Energy seemed to be seeping from her and she struggled to stay upright.
It's here… A raspy female voice said beside her.
It musn't be found! Shouted another.
There were footsteps. They were coming closer. She would be found and there was nothing she could do.
What do you risk in giving in? Hissed a voice so close to her ear, she could feel the hot breath of whomever was speaking.
She didn't dare speak back. She was already at risk in being here. Giving herself away would have consequences.
Someone grasped her by the front of her shirt and heaved her up to her feet.
She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out.
We cannot see your face, whispered the voice.
But make no mistake, we will find you…
Suddenly, a white hot pain seared the skin just below her collarbone. Again, she screamed but nothing came out.
The air began rushing around her, and she felt herself tossed around until she finally came to a rest on something soft. Opening her eyes, she realized she was back in her bedroom.
She was sitting up in bed, the front of her shirt bunched up at the collar as if it had just been grasped by someone. She was soaked in sweat and began peeling off her shirt, but a searing pain near her left shoulder stopped her from pulling it off.
The grasped blindly at her bedside table for her wand.
"Lumos!" She whispered, relieved to hear her own voice.
As she shone the light from her wand upon herself, she found a deep long gash just below her left collarbone, in the shape of a crescent.
"Tergeo," she said, aiming the wand directly at her wound. But the blood that had already begun to dry, did not clear away. She scoured her mind for another spell. The wound burned fiercely, and she feared that she would soon wake her grandparents in the next room if she didn't control the situation.
Her room was dark, and the only noise she could hear was her panting breath as she began panicking. There was no way she was going to be able to hide this from her grandparents.
Especially her grandmother.
"Episkey!"
Still nothing. The wound continued to bleed and burn. She grasped for a small tea towel on her nightstand and applied pressure to the wound.
"Kayla!"
She stood abruptly, dizzy from the pain. Her grandmother burst into the room, wand extended and illuminated.
"What happened? Let me see! -Oh my… -Irwin!" She shouted. Kayla's grandmother grasped at her shoulder, making her cry out in pain.
"What is it, Marie?" Irwin asked, still half asleep.
Kayla winced and sat down on the bed. "She's done it again, Irwin! She's gone and bloody done it again!"
She and her grandfather glanced at each other for a moment, and she watched as his tiredness visibly melted away and grave concern took over.
"Fetch your box, Irwin."
Irwin mumbled for a moment, desperate to say something comforting to his granddaughter. But nothing came forth and he turned and left the room.
Hot tears began running down Kayla's face before she could stop them. Her grandmother shushed her and tucked her granddaughter's dark hair behind her ear.
"It's okay, your grandfather may be a retired Healer, but he still knows how to fix every ailment from Portkey-sickness to Spattergroit."
Soon, her grandfather returned, wooden box in hand. She could hear the various glass bottled potions within clanking against one another. He sat on the bed beside her and inspected the wound.
"I've already tried Episkey and Tergeo," she said, her voice hoarse and sore.
With a shaking hand, he pulled out his wand and aimed it at the wound.
"Vulnera Sanentur," he said confidently. The cut began burning and Kayla cried in agony as her skin began to slowly heal. "Vulnera Sanentur…" he said again, his voice wavering.
When he was finished, he lowered his wand and looked to his wife with deep concern.
"What is it, Irwin?"
Kayla was dizzy and leaned against one of the posts of her bed for balance. Her grandfather pushed a small vial into her hand and urged her to drink. She was sure it was something to help her sleep.
"Tell me Irwin, what's wrong?"
Irwin mumbled something and scratched his head as he paced the room.
Exasperated, Marie looked at her granddaughter and then to her husband.
"Merlin's beard! Will no one tell me what is going on?!"
Kayla drank the potion quickly. It's thick and plummy taste was pleasant and relieved her sore throat. She could feel it taking hold of her already and felt herself falling.
Marie caught her granddaughter and placed a pillow beneath her head. She covered her with a blanket before turning abruptly toward her husband.
"Irwin Roth, you tell me right now. You tell me what's happened to her!"
She lifted her illuminated wand only to see that his face was filled with fear and confusion.
"It's happened again, Marie. She's done it again."
Marie's mouth fell open and she looked back at Kayla, afraid she might disappear right before her very eyes.
"It's cursed," he said, his voice hoarse. "The wound."
She turned back to him, a million questions began to bubble up from her throat.
"How… What do we do? She can't know the truth about what she is!"
Irwin's shook his head, "You don't think she already knows? She's clever, Marie. She already knows."
Marie cupped her hand over her mouth, her hazel eyes glistening in the light of her wand.
"Then what do we do? She leaves for school in just two more days!"
"I'll send a letter to the head of her house as well as Dumbledore. I'll ask for their advice. They may be able to help."
"Send an owl tonight," she whispered as she glanced back at her granddaughter.
"Tell them it's urgent."
—
There was a sense of urgency that grew when a storm began to roll through. Kayla perched herself on a bench in her grandparents' library and stared out of the tall windows. The forest near the house swayed in the breeze as dark clouds churned over them. Something within her chest began to hum and she clutched her legs close to her chest. She could feel her heart hammering against them.
Ever since she was a little girl, she'd always felt this way when a storm moved in. Perhaps it was the energy from the storm, maybe it was something else.
A light breeze drifted through the library from an open window on the opposite side of the room. Beside the window, an empty cage stood. Two days previous, Kayla's grandfather had sent an urgent owl to Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts.
Walter, her grandfather's owl (Irwin always prized giving sophisticated names to animals), was often quick to return responses. But Walter had not returned.
The silence had plagued Marie, Kayla's grandmother. She was an impatient woman, (a trait that had been passed on), and had urged Irwin to write another letter as soon as possible.
None of this however, Kayla was supposed to know. She had heard her grandparents whispering about the letter the night she had the dream. Just before the potion her grandfather had given her, pulled her deep down into the deep depths of restful sleep, she'd heard bits and pieces of what they were saying.
Over the years, she had coaxed Walter to deliver her grandparents' letters to her first. She would read them, seal them up without them knowing, and then send Walter on his way. Walter would do most anything for an extra mouse or two.
Now, the cage stood empty. After dreams like the one she had, Kayla often felt drained, as if everything within her had seeped out. Dark circles hung below her eyes and she had barely managed to eat anything. But as the dark storm outside approached the house and lightning began to flash, she felt an energy begin to spark from within.
Something was coming.
There was another cage in the library, where Kayla's own owl, Driscoll, often resided. But his cage was empty too. It had been empty since late June. The soft brown and white barn owl had gone to deliver a letter to Kayla's best friend Catherine Delaney and had not returned. She'd spent the entire summer without a scrap of news. At first she had feared that something had happened to Driscoll. But she had dreamt that he was somewhere safe and warm and that he would soon return, and that was enough to console her.
Heavy rain began to pummel the windows and Kayla stood and crossed the room to close the window. She stood for a moment, looking out at the woods. She was alone. Her grandparents couldn't understand. They would never understand. The things she felt and the things she saw were somehow real. Every single time she had recounted one of her dreams to them, they seemed to understand what was happening to her.
Kayla knew what she was. Her grandparents knew what she was.
She was a Seer.
As she said the word in her head, the crescent wound beneath her collarbone burned and began to throb. She pulled at her blouse to inspect it. It was finally healing but she was sure it was going to leave a scar. She wished she could talk to Catherine about it. Though she was sure her friend would make a jab at her and start calling her "Potter". But she knew deep down, Catherine would understand and she would want answers too.
The sooner she could get back to Hogwarts, the better. She would have the Hogwarts library at her fingertips. And with Catherine's uncanny ability to get into restricted areas, perhaps she would find some answers on what this cursed cut meant.
But with meaning, came knowledge. And once she knew, she could never truly forget. She asked herself if she really wanted to know all of the answers.
But a voice from within her always came back with a resounding, yes.
There was a flash of lightning and the window panes shook as thunder rumbled over the house. Kayla glanced at a portrait draped in a curtain on the wall beside her. Beneath the heavy purple drapes, she knew the image of her mother and father resided. They would be smiling down at her. But she couldn't will herself to look at it.
Since their disappearance, she had only managed to look at it a handful of times. She knew her father's dark hair and olive skin matched her own. And that over the years, she'd somehow adopted her mother's sophisticated sense of style. She remembered that her mother and her wore matching pendants. They were a reminder that no matter their difference of opinion over the years, they were still connected. At first, Kayla had rolled her eyes at the idea of matching mother/daughter pendants. Now, she felt as if it were the only last living connection to her parents. She touched her pocket absentmindedly, to check to see if the pendant was still in her pocket.
Her grandparents didn't have the answers. And as the dreams had gotten worse over the past year, they'd begun to leave her alone. This left her more isolated than she already was.
Kayla walked over to one of the bookshelves and pulled out one her grandfather's tattered books on Healing.
For now, she had to occupy her mind. She had to fill the emptiness with words and possibly answers.
