Chapter 3

Sorry this came so late! I'll probably have more time to write once summer holidays come around but I suppose you all will have to get used to this once the new term starts. Sorry for any grammar errors or typos in the chapters, I suck a proofreading and Microsoft Word keeps changing my words to the American spelling (I use the British Spelling). (I feel like I am apologizing a lot… I'll stop now)

Galaxystar of Solarclan

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Incantations

Thoughts

Book Titles

~Flashback/Dream~

–

The lightning bolt scar I bear on my forehead has split open. Blood runs down my face, staining the bedsheets red. The scar had started throbbing a bit after dinner started, I can probably match the faces to the names as I remember that much but this bloody scar is really becoming a major annoyance. For some reason I can't explain, every time this happens I hear something – someone calling my name. I have had dreams where I am in the body of another, though I am never in control. It seems almost as if these are the memories of another though I can never recall them clearly. Perhaps they are…

~Dream~

The Humongous walrus of a man is standing over the girl. He looks vaguely like the one from my memories. I cannot recall much about what life was like in the house, behind closed doors, only my time at school and a few social events. The unknown person has a belt in his hand, striking my – her back. She is crying and no one is coming, the two other occupants of the wretched house are hiding behind the stairwell. One has both hands pressed over his or her mouth in a futile attempt to muffle his gleeful giggling, the other does not bother to repress a smile. They are laughing while she is hurting. The human walrus is saying something about justice and freaks. I know not of the events that transpired in this household before now, or whenever now is but I know one thing: this is not justice. This is vengeance. For what, I know not and I fear I will never know. This is spite. I am, she is different from them and they hate her for it.

–

Now the girl is speaking to a snake. They both confide in each other about stresses, achievements and exchange jokes. The snake, which I have now identified as an adder is currently retelling the time he had hunted down an entire family of rabbits when they come. The conversation is cut off by a younger version of the walrus, an infant killer whale. His cronies hold her back while the ringleader slowly kills the little snake. Now she is crying out for her friend but he is not there. Now no one is there for her. The bullies turn on their victim and start laughing, teasing, beating her. Her cries for mercy ring in my ears as I am pulled away. Why is no one coming?

–

She appears to be eleven now. The sorting hat has been placed upon her head, saying she could be great in Slytherin house. The witch is pleading not to be sorted into the house of snakes, saying that she does not want to be a freak in both worlds. I sigh. This is why muggles should not be introduced to our world! Everyone would call for our severed heads on silver platters, they would experiment on us, enslave us, or just wipe us out with those destructive weapons they have at their disposal. This is why good little girls and good little boys do not survive! They are too weak to kill and maim things in their path, they are chained down by morals. Whereas the "bad guys" win because they act on what they believe is right. Good little girls do not get love because they are too pathetic to earn it. The hat opens its "mouth" and shouts out "GRYFFINDOR!" I smile a bit. Good luck, little serpent. I feel – fear that you will need it in the future.

–

Her friends have apparently been endangered because of her. Now she is in an empty classroom crying over how they had almost died. She casts a sound muffling charm (she must be advanced, that is in the third to fourth year syllabus) on the door and takes out a blade. Is she doing what I think she is? And starts drawing it over her skin, making swirls and patterns. She lets out a breath in relief. For some reason I cannot explain, I am able to listen to her thoughts now. "It's my fault, all my fault! Why could I not control my hero complex? I am a freak, I am worthless, I am an abomination, I am just like Aunt says I am! Would she accept me if I hurt myself? She likes it when Uncle beats me, right? Would she accept me if I were Muggle?

–

Second year. Turns out the girl is a Parselmouth like I. That means she is either decended from the Gaunt or the Peverell family. The school has been whispering about her being a dark witch for a while. I do wonder what year this took place in; no one, even the Parselmouth girl has a face that does not look like I were looking through an unfocused digital camera. The same goes for dates, calendars and the like. She suspects one of her friends is opening the Chamber of Secrets indirectly, and feels bad about it. Personally, I think she is right to trust her instincts. I'm frowning, and wondering… What else has happened in the past to make her unable to trust herself?

–

I am given just a glimpse of the next scene. Next to the unconscious form of a redhead girl the scared yet collected second year pulls a scythe and a short sword from the tattered sorting hat. She uses the scythe to wound the Basilisk and tear a fang from the mouth, coating both blades in poison. She swings the weapon and kills the Basilisk then proceeds to throw the sword like a spear towards the little black diary on the ground, destroying it. Is this the reasoning behind my wand core? She seems to have taken a liking to the scythe, naming it Icaro and spelling it into another black notebook in the form of a coloured sketch.

–

The witch is fourteen now, listening to some parents coo over how kind, patient, brave, just their child is. Ha! Kindness is only Compliance, Patience is simple Idleness, Bravery is Audacity and so called Justice is only Vengeance. It appears her own "friends" have abandoned her in a time of need for their narrow minded views. I watch as she takes a deep breath and walks out of a tent into an arena with a Hungarian Horntail staring her down. She simply stares back for a while, before she starts drawing runes on various rocks. I take a closer look at the ink she uses before realising it is blood. The dragon foolishly believes the girl is no harm due to her size (Morgana, she looks like a 11-year-old!) and sits back, observing. She draws a somewhat detailed outline of the dragon inside of the rune circle and starts chanting in a medley of French, Italian and Latin. I watch as the dragon enters a trance like state and soon an apparition of marionette strings appears above the creature. This is one of the closest things to the imperious curse without it being classified as dark.

The crowd is still gaping at her as she stalks out of the arena without bothering to look at her scores, her dress shoes making a tapping sound against the stone pathways.

–

Now she is in the form of a beaked sea snake thanks to an accidental bit of parselmagic (Her original plan was consuming Gillyweed a House elf acquired for her.). She swims with strong whips of the tail and soon reaches a statue with four people tied to it surrounded by merpeople. She bites through some of the ropes, freeing a redheaded male. She is about to take off after two other people with hostages but considers the blonde girl still tied to the statue. She sighs as well as one can whilst in the form of a snake and takes the other girl as well.

Before they reach the surface she turns back into a human with some trial and error (really, did she not think of how she was to change back?) and is met with tremulous applause. She was the second to reach the surface, the first being a Hufflepuff male I don't recognize but feel like I should know. She has gotten extra points for morality. She should be happy, but when I look at her slumped figure she just looks empty.

–

Cedric, the Hufflepuff – whose name was revealed when his parents shouted it out – and her are in a graveyard. The poor boy is screaming his lungs out; he has been under the cruciatus for a while now. There are other bodies littered around the graveyard: three muggles who were attracted by the sound of screaming and immediately killed by a plump man with a strange taint to his magic, Stanley Shunpike who had recognized the sound of curses being thrown and Rosemerta Summers who had been the one to call the knight bus after an apparition incident.

Cedric is screaming for the mercy of death. I can see the girl gasp and pick her wand up. She casts a diffindo at the rat like man who is torturing Cedric but due to the shaking of her hand she ends up slicing a deep gash through his stomach. A gasp of horror as the blood splashes on her hands. The girl makes no move. Simply staring in horror and guilt as the blood stains her hands and shoes. He is almost drained of his blood before he pulls a variety of potions from a pocket, consumes them and apparates away. Cedric is in too much pain for he has suffered an internal injury too grievous to heal. She turns to face him as well as she can and holds her wand out in front of her. She whispers an apology and that she does not want him to suffer. Then the unforgivable words come out of her mouth. "Avada Kedavra"

–

"…you are hereby condemned to a lifetime sentence in Azkaban for the murder of Cedric Diggory, Bathilda Bagshot, Stanley Shunpike, Rosemerta Summers and 9 unidentified muggles." I very nearly scream in outrage. Accused for simply ending someone's suffering! Yes, she almost did kill the rat like man but I had noticed that tainted aura around him, signifying that he was set up to die before the dawn of the next day, most likely by whomever was brought back from a limbo like state. A family of platinum blondes had clearly disapproved of putting a minor within the walls of wizarding Hell but had been silenced before the trial and therefore were unable to defend her. They stand unnoticed by all at the back of the room, not even by the defendant, who seems to be trying to sift through thoughts and emotions. A black haired man bearing a striking resemblance to a bat had tried to press for Veritaserum but had also been threatened. I notice he reaches into his robes every now and then and runs his hand over a cloak, a notebook, a blank roll of parchment and a wand as if reassuring himself they remain intact. The family of redheads and a taller man with grey-blue eyes were glaring daggers at the defendant as she is led by Dementors and Aurors alike out of the courtroom.

The now-prisoner is prodded rather rudely through winding hallways and corridors, one of which is covered in mirrors. I finally get a look at the girls' reflection as they-we walk past the mirrors. I freeze in shock.

The girl – she is me.

–

I sigh. This is the point where all the memories flee from me like water through my fingers only to come back and wrack my body with spasms when I see something – someone familiar. Even so, the cyclone of silver never fails to mesmerise me. As one of the cloaked creatures swoops down on me I am forced to give in to the dizzying blackness.

~Dream~

I wake up drenched in sweat with a short scream. What did I dream of? I don't remember yet I know enough to know that the "Order of the Phoenix" is not telling the complete truth. I smack my head lightly at not figuring it out after watching so many of them stumble over simple information about my past.

I pace around the room. I could probably create a different identity as a homeschooled muggleborn witch whose home was destroyed in a natural disaster. I'd call myself Rosita… Rosita Huang. With a common Chinese surname, no one would suspect if I preferred neutrality, after all the Chinese Wizarding World was all about peace and balance, Yin and Yang. No wonder they had very few disagreements… 99.99% of the wizards wielded Grey magic. If I changed the shape of my eyes and got muggle contacts in a dark chocolate brown I would look the part and as for the resemblance to the Black and Peverell families I could easily say a member of the family was disowned and married into the Huang family and I was the first magical. It did happen if the ratio of muggle to magical blood was very high. It happened to my mother apparently.

Now I have an outline of a plan. I suppose I could sneak around in my raven form so if I am found out I have another alter ego to fall back on. Tomorrow I can get myself into Hogsmeade with a Portkey and make my animagus form known to the staff, villagers and students who will no doubt be enjoying the transition from spring to summer. I should give my animagus from a name rather than simply calling it "my animagus form" Hopefully the people will assume I had an owner in the past… "Vesna" I decide. And with the knowledge of my plan and images of beautiful night skies in my mind I drift off to the Realm of Dreams

–

Vesna – "Messenger" in Slavic. Chosen because the Raven is a messenger between the heavens.