Warnings for character death, mentions of torture and a little bit of blood. Yeah, this story turned out dark. I'm sorry.

A/N: I don't prefer first person POV writings, to be honest. But this one… This one called for it. Also, this thing is somewhat inspired by Danganronpa, because I'm a nerd. Enjoy.

Beta love: Huge thanks and virtual cookies to LittleMissXanda and Kefalion for helping me out when I was stuck, and for betaing. You guys are awesome :)

Word count: 1689

QLFC Round 11: Chaser 3 – Object: Remembrall

Optional prompts:

2. (word) dominoes

5. (word) coffee

6. (dialogue) "On your marks, get set… Drink!"

Blood. I'd always thought that the cloud of bright red smoke inside the glass of a Remembrall resembled blood—in terms of colour, at least. Ever since I'd gotten this little ball—which, if my memory served me right, was a couple of years ago, maybe in my first or second year—it had always been glowing bright crimson while in my hand.

At first, I didn't think much of it—people forgot things of various importance from time to time. It had been a little awkward that one time I showed it to Draco—he wouldn't stop teasing me about it for half a year afterwards—but it slowly became a part of my daily life. Waking up, brushing my teeth, changing into my school robes, checking if the Remembrall was still glowing bright red when I touched it… I'd grown accustomed to it.

I did feel something tickling in the back of my head whenever I tried to remember what I'd forgotten, but it never became a tangible thought, nothing more than a nagging itch. As such, eventually, I gave up on it. Having to leave it unsolved was annoying, and made me feel somewhat bitter, but there wasn't anything left for me to try. It was what it was.. Besides, if the coward's way out is the easiest, then there's no reason for me not to take it.

Oh, but have you heard of the phrase, 'ignorance is bliss?'

~oOo~

It started out just like any other day. One of Draco's lackeys—I think their names are Crabbe and Goyle—came barging into the dorm and woke us up, along with possibly half of the Slytherin house.

What made it even worse was the lingering feeling of a headache. It was only slight, barely noticeable, but it annoyed me nevertheless.

I groaned. I'd never been a morning person, especially not before getting my usual morning coffee, and now, with the dull pain throbbing through my skull, I was even less enthusiastic about having to wake up. Nevertheless, I knew I had no time to waste if I wanted to be on time for my first period, so I threw the sheets off myself, and dug through my robes until I found the one I'd wear that day.

"Hey, Theo." I heard Draco call my name, so I turned to face him. "Have you finished your Potions assignment? It's due today, so I hope you haven't forgotten it." There was a cutting edge to his words, laced by something that sounded like triumph. Draco was trying to make fun of me—again.

Truth be told, Potions had never been a favourite subject of mine. I didn't think it was because I didn't have the aptitude to be good at the subject; it was because, for as long as I could remember, I'd always felt a certain resentment towards it. What I found odd, however, was that I could never work out the reason for that resentment, exactly.

It might have had something to do with the glowing red Remembrall, stored in my drawer. Hell if I knew.

"Yes, I finished it yesterday," I replied, feigning indifference. "What about it?"

"Oh, I was just worried you wouldn't be ready. Imagine how mad Snape would be." I could hear the smirk in Draco's words.

"I could say the same about your Arithmancy essay," I replied, letting a small smile slip onto my face.

"Touché," Draco said. "Let's go and eat breakfast. It's impossible to talk to you before you get your morning coffee."

I nodded briskly, and, before following Draco out the door, I slipped the Remembrall into my pocket. Over the years, it had become a habit. I'd carry it with me at all times, so that if I happened to remember what I'd forgotten, I'd know about it in an instant. I never mentioned this fact to anyone—it would only seem like a weird obsession. It wasn't, really. Not in my mind, at least.

It just made me more comfortable.

~oOo~

"Say, have you heard the rumours?" Draco asked me while the two of us were eating breakfast. I wasn't feeling all that hungry, so I only had one measly piece of toast on my plate; Draco, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying himself.

"Well, no. Not until you tell me which rumour you're talking about, at least," I answered. Not that I was interested in it—rumours and gossip had always been far from me, regardless of which end of the story I was on.

"You really need to tone down your attitude. In fact, you should be glad I even talk to you," came the answer.

"Yeah, thanks, whatever," I said. I wasn't feeling up to an argument at that point, especially not with my ever-so-growing headache. Annoyingly enough, it had only gotten worse since I'd woken up, and that did not help my mood at all. Letting out an exasperated sigh, I turned to Draco once again. "What was it that you were going to say?"

"Oh, yeah. Rumour has it that Saint Potter has started a club despite the rules not allowing to do so. They say it was created as some kind of a resistance against Umbridge and the Ministry," Draco explained. I couldn't help but glance at the Gryffindor table from across the room, and eye my fellow fifth years talking about something rather heatedly over their breakfast.

I could hear somebody shout "On your marks, get set… drink!" from across the Great Hall, and I caught a glimpse of a couple of older students downing what seemed to be a cup of… something at the Gryffindor table. I briefly wondered what it could've been.

"Hey, do you hear me?" The voice of my dormmate brought me back from my musing.

"Yeah," was all I could muster.

"So, what do you think?"

"Why should I care?" I said. "If they do have a club of some kind, then good for them. It's likely that they'll be caught sooner or later, but that's none of my concern, really. But, say, why are you so obsessed with that Potter git? He's not as remarkable as you make him out to be."

Draco sighed, shaking his head. "Nobody's ever remarkable to you."

~oOo~

Hair-Colouring Potion. Even the name sounded ridiculous, and it made me question the necessity of the class once again. The instructions were written down, clear as day, in my textbook, and the potion was already bubbling in my cauldron, but I couldn't shake the sceptical feeling I'd always had while in Potions class.

To make matters worse, it seemed my headache had decided to strengthen, making it borderline impossible for me to concentrate.

Trying to hold myself together, I sat down for a moment; the potion wouldn't go haywire if I left it unattended for a moment, after all. The cup of coffee I'd had at breakfast had not made the pain go away, nor had the spell I'd cast on myself right after. If anything, my headache had just gotten worse.

But worst of all, I had no idea where it came from or why I suffered from it.

As I was about to stand back up, though, trying to at least attempt to finish my potion before asking to leave for the Hospital Wing, I heard a scream. If I were to guess, I'd have said it was probably some clumsy girl spilling a potion in progress on themselves, but I didn't have the time to ponder about things like that.

It was as if a dam was opened—or, rather, broken—in my mind, memories flooding my thoughts. I could hear screams, similar to the one I heard moments ago, but more terrifying. They were screams of torture. For some reason, it appeared to me that they were my mother's screams, even though I'd never met her. My father had told me she died in childbirth.

Or… had I met her? I didn't know anymore; it was confusing. I buried my head in my hands, my breath growing erratic as more images flashed through my mind. There was a room—our receiving room?— and there was blood, a lot of blood pooling on the floor, flowing from a body.

Was that my mother? I thought I recognized her from photographs.

If it was her, how did… I… remember this?

I wanted to scream.

Before I could, though, another image appeared. It was my father, towering over me; the wand in his hand pointed at something behind me. The picture was blurry, and I inexplicably knew it was because of the tears in my eyes.

Then, another image flashed. My father, cornering a familiar-looking woman, blind fury twisting his face. And then, another memory of him pointing his wand at her. Then, one of me being ushered out of the room. And then, the wand pointed at me. I could read the syllables to the word 'Obliviate' on my father's lips.

Before the images ended, I could hear a gentle, but strained voice, saying my name. Theo. The voice was feminine, and it sounded so familiar. This voice rang through my head, chanting my name over and over again.

Before the flashbacks ended, I saw the picture of me being pushed out of the room once again, but this time the voice I'd just heard said something else.

Mum will be fine, Theo.

Through the headache that had gotten even worse throughout these flashbacks, another thought crossed my mind, and I reached for the pocket of my robe. Pulling the little glass ball out, I saw as the smoke that had been glowing bright crimson for all these years started clearing up, first getting pink, then plain white.

Was this what I'd forgotten? Was this a real memory?

Maybe it was. I didn't know anymore. As black spots started dancing around my sight, I pocketed the Remembrall once again.

My last thought before blacking out completely was that even though the smoke inside the glass ball was now clear white, all I could see was blood.