A Smattering of Sugar Chapter 3
Disclaimer: I don't own. Like, at all.
Well, here it is. The last chapter. Thank you to all who reviewed and favorite and followed. Fox-Wolf-Dog, InfinitelyPotter, thelostblacksister, ginnyandharryluvr, and all of the rest of you. It means to world to me. I'll be writing more stories in the future. Feel free to leave suggestions for background/other stories.
Chapter 3: All of my life
The brain is a funny thing, one could say. It is easier to remember instances of pain and hate rather than instances of love and friendship.
Dolores was at home when it happened. She and her mother were baking cookies the Muggle way, as he mum preferred to do it. Her mum often drew her aside and told her seriously; "My mother was a Muggle, and she always said that making the cookies by hand let the love flow through your fingertips," here Milane would kiss Dolores' fingers, even though Dolores was now old enough to be embarrassed by this "And into the dough. That makes these cookies more magical than any magic wands can produce." Here Milane would take and pinch of dough and poke it into Dolores' mouth.
Dolores' father was away at work. Political tensions with France had blown over, and now Uliah Umbridge had to deal with increasingly hostile magical communities. The Werewolves and Vampires (and quite a few Veela, too) were threatening to make war with the Wizarding World. Uliah was trying to keep everything under wraps and came home tried each day. He never went for walks anymore and often just sat in his chair, staring at the wall. Milane and Dolores watched in sadness.
Dolores had finished a painting for her dad earlier that day—she had hoped that the mountain slopes covered in wild strawberries might cheer her father up.
"Mum," Dolores said, looking up from adding chocolate chips into fresh dough, "Will there be a war?"
Milane's once youthful face was now lined with small wrinkles. Her eyes, however, were as bright as ever and glittered lovingly at Dolores.
"I think that truth and justice will win over darkness." She said slowly. "What will come will come, but we must always strive for peace, not hatred."
"That doesn't answer my question." Dolores protested, pelting her mum lightly with a chip.
"Hey now!" Her mother laughed. Milane grabbed a chocolate chip and threw it at Dolores. Dolores shrieked and grabbed a handful. Milane's eyes widened and grabbed a towel to protect herself from the incoming missiles. A few of the brown goods bounced off her head and into the sink, where they smacked wetly into the few dishes piled inside.
Laughing in delight, they kept fighting until a crack resounded in the garden.
They paused, glancing at each other. Dolores was holding a frying pan like a shield and the bag of chocolate chips in the other. Half melted blobs of chocolate were stuck in her hair. Milane had an apron with bulging pockets of magically multiplied chips. In the other she had a measuring cup half full of chocolaty water.
They set everything down, and Milane waved her wand, causing the floor to clean itself instantly. They stared at the door, wondering what was taking Uliah so long.
Then quickened footsteps crunched on the gravel path.
Milane and Dolores shared concerned glances before the footsteps hit the stairs and over the porch. The door banged open, hitting the wall and causing Milane to wince. Uliah stood in the doorway, white as a sheet, and shaking. Something was smeared on his face, and as Uliah stepped into the lamplight, Dolores saw with horror that it was blood.
"Uliah!" Milane gasped.
"Milane," Uliah replied, his voice cracking. "We have to run."
"Run? Run where?" Milane was still frozen, staring at her husband in horror.
"They're coming." Uliah looked around wildly. "Here, they know where we live!"
"Who?" Dolores crossed over to her father. He looked at her.
"Yes, who?" A deep, slick voice asked behind Uliah. Uliah's eyes widened in terror, and he spun around to face whoever was in the doorway.
Dolores felt the blood drain from her face. Standing in the doorway was at least ten humans. Except they weren't quite human, Dolores noticed. Some were hairy and wild while others . . . other were too white and pale with teeth so long they poked out of their mouths.
Vampires and Werewolves, Dolores thought with dizzying horror. She had only read about them, yet here they were in the flesh.
"What do you want?" Dolores demanded, pleased to note her voice wasn't shaking.
"You wizards shunt us!" The werewolf in the front—the one who had spoken first—howled. "We want out revenge!"
"By doing what exactly?" Dolores replied.
The werewolf simply snarled, and apparently that was the signal. The others surged forward with wands, fangs, and claws extended. Dolores cried out and started fighting. She couldn't look back at her parents or she'd die—they were fighting too hard, too fast, and aiming to kill.
Dolores kept stunning them, but more poured into the door. Tears clouded up her vision as curses cut into her skin.
Suddenly the room heated up, and Dolores turned to see Uliah and Milane behind a shield of fire. The beings circling her, lashing out when they could.
Dolores' moment of distraction cost her. A werewolf threw her into the sitting room, leaping after her as her body crumpled.
"Dolores!" Milane screamed and threw herself after her daughter. Milane jumped under the beasts claws as they flashed down. Dolores looked up, and saw her mother frozen before falling back. Blood leaked out of a gaping hole in her throat. Her eyes were glazed, and she was convulsing.
"NO!" Uliah yelled and slashed his hand down in a sweeping arch.
Dolores was weightless. She was lifted up and thrown about. She closed her eyes as he head his stone and all went black.
"Her brain was badly damaged. We do not know the extent, however. She may have a complete personality change." A voice. Dolores struggled to wake up. It felt like she was walking through a fog. She blinked, and it felt like she was pushing aside a mountain.
"Hello? Hello? Can you hear me?" The voice from before asked. Dolores merely looked up at him, not recognizing him.
"My name is Healer Smith, Ms. Umbridge. You have been unconscious for nearly two months. How are you feeling?"
"I-I don't know." Dolores stammered. "What happened?"
Smith's face closed off, his gaze became sad. "Ms. Umbridge, I'm sorry to say that you have been attacked by half-breeds. They have killed your family. How much do you remember?"
"Not much." Dolores whispered. She looked into her memory, trying to figure out who she was. Her name, yes she remembered that. Her parents were Milane and Uliah Umbridge. She couldn't remember what they looked like, only fire. She couldn't remember anything about them. She thought back to Hogwarts. She was alone. She was so alone . . . "I-I don't know who I am!" Dolores cried, distressed. She made to get up, but Smith gently pushed her down.
"You're suffering from memory loss." He muttered, making a note on the piece of parchment next to Dolores' bed.
"W-what?" Dolores stammered. Healer Smith turned to look at her, smiling sadly. "Will I get it back?"
"I don't know." He said honestly. "But it was in a magical accident, and I'm afraid that the chances are slim."
"My parents are dead?"
Healer Smith's face contorted in rage. "The foul-blooded half-breeds killed them. I'm so sorry, Ms. Umbridge."
He left her then, and Dolores looked at the celling.
Foul blooded. Mudblood her mind supplied and Dolores gritted her teeth. Half-breeds, Mudbloods. They all had dirty blood, they were responsible for her parents death and for her memory loss. They were evil. Surely if they attacked her family, they were evil. Surely they meant harm to all wizard kind?
"Truth and justice will win over darkness." A soft, beautiful voice echoed in her head. Dolores sat up, staring straight ahead.
If she couldn't help herself, then she would help and save others from this evil.
XoX
Years and years passed, and found Dolores Jane Umbridge in Azkaban prison for crimes against Muggleborns. She sat, staring out the window unblinkingly. Her drab prison clothes were a sharp contrast to her usual pink.
Her curly brown hair was long and caked with grime, but she didn't seem to notice.
Her memory never returned, and in several more years she would die from refusing to eat. Her name would be forgotten in time, and it would be as if Dolores had never existed.
Backing away, you step out of the house. The creaking and moaning beams seem to quiet, content that they have told their story. She stumble out onto the porch and down the sagging steps. You pause that the gate and look back at the house. For a moment, you could see it in its former glory, with laughter bubbling up from everywhere as the little family of three played and loved each other.
It will never be again.