A/N: Written for Alicia Mirza on the HP Fanfiction Challenges forum. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own HP. Sorry.


Prompt: Write about a tale which turns out to be true. Alternatively, write about someone doing something really heroic.


Challenge 1

Fairytales


Everyone's heard of fairytales, right? Stories for little kids, to get them to shut up for a bit. Stories of daring knights, dashing princes, evil wizards and beautiful princesses. In every story, it all ends happily-ever-after, doesn't it? The villain is vanquished, the hero gets the girl and everyone's happy.

I hate fairytales. Detest them even. You see, everything in fairytales is perfect. It's just one big lie, really, isn't it? Childhood? None of the things you believed in are real, whether this be Santa Clause, the Tooth Fairy or the Easter Bunny. Or even fairytales. Children have to grow up sometimes, don't they? They have to know that life isn't perfect, and not everyone gets their happy ending.

You may wonder what did happen to me, to make me so bitter? Well, at one point, my life was a fairytale. I was beautiful, I had friends, and I almost got the guy of my dreams. Then she had to pull that away from me. My horrid, decietful mother.

I bet you're wondering who on earth I am, and what on earth I'm talking about, don't you? My name is Emmeline Vance- no, not the order member, but her grandmother, on her father's side. Onto what I'm talking about... well, I'll explain, shall I? Or rather, why don't we just step into this nice pensieve oever here, and I can show you what happened so long ago...


"Remember, class," the beautiful, dark-haired woman announced, "Homework is in on Friday." Groans echoed from the sixth-year students. "Off you go now." As the students trailed out, one of them looked particularly happy. She had gingery-brown hair, a fair complexion and glinting blue eyes. She rushed down the corridor the find someone; a tall, tanned, muscular teen, a year older than her with bronze hair and a winning smile. He was suurounded by a large group of chattering people, laughing about some joke that had just been told to him by a teen of Jamacian decent.

He saw her at once, excused himself from the group and dashed towards her, kissing her on the cheek. The girl giggled.

"Hello Lance," she greeted.

"Emmeline, I missed you!" he cried.

"You saw me just two hours ago..." she reminded him playfully.

"Ah, it feels much longer!" he cried, wrapping an arm around her. "By the way, your mother is a genious!"

"She is?" Emmeline asked, her head cocked in curiousity.

"Yes! I told her my theory, about the Chamber of Secrets, and she agrees with me! How great is that!"

Emmeline rolled her eyes. "Oh, Lance," she sighed, "Ever the dreamer."

"Oh, Emmeline," he mocked, "Ever the realist."

Suddenly a hand darted oput from te shadows, pulling Emmeline back a few paces. "Don't make a sound," a voice hissed into her ear. "Excuse yourself, now."

"Lance!" Emmeline cried worriedly. "I've just remembered- left something in Defence- let me go and get it!"

"Okay, meet you in the courtyard afterwards?" Lance asked, and she nodded.

"Sounds good!"

The moment her boyfriend's back was turned, Emmeline was pulled back into the shadows, into a side corridor lit by a lone candle. In the flickering light, a face could be made out; the face of the beautiful woman from the classroom.

"I warned you!" the woman hissed. "Emmeline Grace, I warned you!"

"Stop it, let go of me!" Emmeline cried, and the light of the candle lflared, revealing the hand still clasped on Emmeline's shoulders.

"I warned you to stay away from that Jones boy. And did you? No! Of course not! You just go prance around and- how dare you disrespect your mother? After all I've done for you!"

"Mother... please... no!" Emmeline sobbed. She, and she alone, knew just how harsh the widower could be. "What are you going to do to me?"

"I'm-" the mother cried, struggling to hold onto the writhing girl- "Going to make you- Disappear!"

There was a scream, and then a clatter as the candle fell to the floor. Even by the dim light, it is obvious that nobody is there. The memory starts to blurr around the edges, then fade completely.


So you see now? See now why I hate fairytales? Wait, no. This isn't the full story yet, is it? Well then, let's take a look at this memory, just here... Yes, that's right, into the pensieve now...


It was snowing. Around seventy people- most of them under seventeen- stood around a large hole in the ground. In the large hole was a long wooden box- a coffin? Earth was being shovelled on top of it by a bearded man, who looked grim and determined, unlike the weeping people stood around him, all dressed in black.

Two of these people could easily tie for most distraught- an older woman and a teenage boy. The boy was tanned and muscular, his face stony as he looked down, but the utter loss in his eyes so moving you felt as if your whole world had been destroyed. Lance Jones had always shown his emotions through his eyes- some looked at it as a gift, others as a curse.

The woman was older, maybe in her mid fourties, with long, dishevelled dark hair and creamy skin. Her eyes were closed, tears leaking from under the lids. She looked utterly lost, as if her world had shattered and could never be rebuilt.

However, any that knew this woman, would know that she had a lot of practice. That she wasn't really upset at all. That somewhere, underneath her mask, she was smiling.


I think my Mother gave me that memory to spite me. I know well enough that that was the last time I ever saw him. Lance Jones. My sweetheart, my true love, my world.

Still, you are not yet done: I have another memory to show you. Into the pensieve you go...


The sun shone down on the wedding arch as a young couple stood beneath it. They were both young, twenty at the most. One was a rather portly young man, with whispy blonde hair combed over his head and a jolly smile. He wore a plain grey suit, and was smiling at a woman.

The woman was both taller and thinner- in fact, she was so thin she looked starved. Her hair was long and gingery-brown, her eyes a dull blue. She wore a white dress recognisable to any as a wedding gown. The guests in the crowd were cheering as they held hands, the happy young man and his desolate bride.

Suddenly the scene shifted, changed, and it was nighttime. There was a party going on, and in the middle of it all, the portly man approached his wife and asked her to dance. She agreed politely and they danced, the man chattering away as the woman looked like she was listening, but really wasn't.

Then the scene changed again, to the young woman holding a screaming child, the man's hand resting on her shoulder as they looked down on their son.

The only things that were similar about the three memories were the young couple, and the woman in the corner, dark and forboding. In each and every memory, she was smiling, looking as if a part of her plan had just come into place.

And in each and every one, it had.


I hate her. I hate her so much. Go on, into the pensieve, while I brood. I cannot waste your time, as I have my own.


It was winter again. In the enterance hall of a large manor, a young woman in a snowy white cloak made her way purposefully towards the door. Her blue eyes were brighter than they had been in years. Her hand reached for the doorknob-

"What are you doing?"

The voice was sharp, and belonged to the woman with dark hair and a plan. The cloaked woman drew herself up straight, and turned to her mother.

"I'm leaving," she said quietly, in a tone of finality.

"Oh, I disagree," the older woman said with a laugh. "You, dear daughter of mine, are not going anywhere."

"I am no daughter of yours!" the readhead yelled, her hood falling down. "You filled my childhood with stories of true love and freedom and- and having a life- and then you took that all away from me!"

"My dear, those stories were necessary... I needed you to understand that in life, you will never have a happy ending."

"Well I'm sick of it!" she roared. "I don't love Herbert Vance- my one and only has always been Lance! I've been waiting for him all these years, but he's not coming, is he mother? So now it's up to me to go and find him!"

"My dear, you make a mistake," the older woman laughed, bringing out her wand. "You are not going anywhere..."


Wait a minute... A memory charm? Why would there be a memory charm on that memory, unless?

Oh great goodness! Can it be? I need to see...


"Stop right there!" came a yell, and both women turned to see a man. A man with bronze hair, tanned skin, and rather large muscles. Emmeline's breath caught in her throat.

"Lance?" she whispered. "Lance, how did you find me?"

"I saw your picture in the paper the other day," he told her, coming to stand beside her and kissing her cheek. She giggled.

"I missed you," she whispered.

"I only saw you twenty years ago," he reminded her.

"It feels like forever," she whispered, smiling.

"No- you can't!" the woman snarled. "You've ruined everything- you leave me no choice- Avada Kedavra!"

A flash of green light. A woman's face, laughing in frenzied delight. A couple, hanging onto each other's arms, dead on the floor. A child, on the staircase. A child, who's strangled cry was the last the woman ever heard.

"Mummy!"


I-I can't believe it? How could I have forgotten? Of course I know how; that evil hag sealed my memory. Or maybe it is the person in charge here, the one who watches over the dead?

I remember now. That's all that's important. I know now that sometimes, fairytales really do come true- you just have to have the courage to find them.

Only the courage to do what is right can protect what you love.

I understand that now.


The End


A/N: So what do you think of Emmeline Vance I? Hope you enjoyed it, I'll try and have the next challenge up soon!