Dumbledore called Harry and I to his office on the fourth day of term, pulling me out of Transfiguration, where I had almost mastered making a frog into a teacup.
The only explanation he offered was a note.
Mister and Miss Potter,
Please come and see me in my office immediately. Professor McGonagall has been informed and the necessary arrangements have been made for the completion of your assignments.
Headmaster Dumbledore.
P.S.: I like Blood Pops.
I look up from the note and at my brother as he grabs his bag. "What do you think he needs?"
Harry just shrugs. "We haven't done anything relatively dangerous…yet."
I grab my bag and follow him out of the classroom, giving Ron and Hermione what I hoped was a reassuring (not nervous) smile. "Well," I muse as I catch up to my twin, "at least we know the password."
He glances at the note in confusion. "What are Blood Pops?"
I shrug. "How would I know? I hope they're artificial blood, though, or else I'm worried about our dear Professor."
Harry says nothing in response, but I can see his lips twitch up slightly.
We eventually find the right gargoyle, and I give the paper one more glance before declaring "Blood Pops."
It jumps aside, so I tuck the note into the pocket of my robes before leading the way up the winding staircase
Halfway up, I pause as my stomach suddenly flips and colored spots dance in front of my eyes. My stomach cramps and shivers, forcing to bend almost in half with pain and forcing me to brace myself against the cool stone wall next to me.
"Ally?" Harry asks softly, worry shading his tone as he kneels next to me. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," I gasp as the pain slowly fades and my vision returns to normal, although a little blurrier than normal, but I toss that off to needing a new prescription and remind myself to ask Madam Pomfrey about it. "I'm okay."
"No, you aren't," he argues. "That's the fourth time that's happened in the last month, and they are getting worse."
"You don't even know what it is," I remind him as I resume climbing the stairs.
"Neither do you," he grumbles, but lets it go.
I knock softly on the door, waiting for a soft voice to call "Enter," before nudging it open and stepping inside. "Professor Dumbledore."
"Ah, Harry, Allison!" he waves us to the seats opposite his desk. "Please come sit."
I settle into a chair, politely refusing a lemon drop and waiting for Harry to sit next to me before turning an expectant gaze on the headmaster.
He clears his throat. "Professor Lupin told me you two had taken ill on the train?"
"Yes, but he took care of it. Might I ask what happened, sir?"
He sighs and twists his hands in a gesture of apparent nervousness. "You were the subject of a Dementor attack."
"You mentioned those in your speech," Harry notices. "What are they?"
"They are the guards of Azkaban, the wizarding prison."
"What do they do?"
"Dementors…they feed on souls. They're meant to take the souls of the evil, dark prisoners, eventually either turning them insane or leaving them in a vegetative state."
"So, a Dementor attack would be…" I break off and stare at Dumbledore in shock. "They tried to take our souls?!"
Dumbledore nods gravely.
"Hold on," Harry cuts in. "All of our friends have souls too. How come they didn't faint?"
"Because souls, for a large part, are comprised of memories. Your friends – Miss Granger, the Weasleys, and Miss Lovegood – all have happy memories; which means the Dementors don't want their souls. You, on the other hand…"
"Only have memories of death and destruction," I finish quietly. "Save for a few."
Dumbledore nods. "This made the Dementors especially attracted to you two, unfortunately."
Harry nods slowly. "But what about the screaming? I could swear I heard someone screaming…" I nod along with his statement.
The headmaster droops slightly. "That was…another side effect, if you will. The Dementors also show your worst memory, forcing it to replay again and again inside your head until you go insane."
I can't help the shudder that makes its way down my back. The prisoners have every right to go insane after that.
"And, as it turns out, Harry, Allison, your worst memory is the night Lily and James died. The screaming was most likely your mother-"
"But I didn't hear that!" I protest, suddenly confused. "I heard two males, one was named Padfoot and the other was Prongs. Oh, and this one guy named Moony. They seemed happy, but the last scene was loud, and mentioned someone named Peter, asking him why he did something…Professor?" I glance over to see Dumbledore suddenly very pale and showing his years. "What is it?"
"Allison..." he suddenly looks very old. "There is something you should know."
"Okay..." I shift in my seat. "What's going on?"
Dumbledore sighs and looks everywhere besides my eyes. "I'm afraid I haven't been entirely truthful with you."
"About...what?"
"Who you are."
"Who I..." I crinkle my eyebrows. "I don't understand, sir."
"Can you tell me who you are?" I give him a strange look. "Humor an old man."
"Okay then. My name is Allison Lily Potter, I'm 13, I'm a witch attending my 3rd year at Hogwarts," I recite easily. "Anything else?"
"Parents?"
"James and Lily Potter, and you know they're dead, Professor."
He nods slowly, seemingly mulling over my answer before shaking his head. "I'm afraid you're wrong."
"What?"
"How is any of that wrong?" Harry exclaims from behind me, and I jump, having forgotten he was even there. "What else could it be?"
Dumbledore gives my brother a curious look. "Harry, don't you have a potions class to be in at the moment? I cannot imagine Professor Snape would be happy, should you be late."
"But-" Harry gives the headmaster and I incredulous glances. "I-but-you-"
"I'll be okay," I promise him softly. "Come on."
He gives me one last look before trudging out the door at a mournful pace.
"Now then," I turn back to Dumbledore. "You were in the middle of disproving my identity?"
"In a way, yes. I didn't think you would want many witnesses." He flicks his wand a piece of parchment appears on the desk in front of me. "That should do."
I glance down and read:
My dear Orissa,
If you're reading this, it means your entire life has been somewhat of a lie. Sorry.
You've been placed under some heavy concealment charms for the past thirteen years, and they should be wearing off by now. When they do, you'll be different. In a good way, but not what you're used to.
This letter also means that I'm not...there. I'm most likely dead, and I heavily apologize for whatever stupid stunt I pulled and ended up kiling me. Hopefully Prongs, Moony, or - heck- even Wormtail raised you happy. I've given this to Dumbledore under strict instructions to make sure you read this before anything changes, and I trust that he will find a reliable, trustworthy source to tell you the story of your existence.
I'm sorry you had to hear this under these circumstances, but you need to know the truth. You need to have pride in who you are.
Best wishes,
Your father.
I glance up at him. "Who's Orissa?"
The headmaster gives me a small smile. "That would be you, my dear."
I stare at the letter in shock before slowly meeting Dumbledore's piercing blue gaze. "Who am I?"
"Your full legal name, as it appears on your true birth certificate, is Orissa Andromeda...Black."
Dun dun dunnnn...
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