Hogwarts: Secrets
Write about lies and secrets that grow out of control.
IWSC Round 2
School: Hogwarts
Theme: Write about lies and secrets that grow out of control.
Year 2
PROMPTS:
Main Prompt: [Quote] "The version of me you created in your mind is not my responsibility."
Additional Prompt: [Emotion] Rage
Word count: 2056
The version of me you created in your mind is not my responsibility
"Headmaster, she shouldn't be alive. That curse should have killed her," Severus told Dumbledore in a hushed voice, looking back at the sleeping figure lying still on the bed.
"She has received some damage but not to the extent she should, it's like the magic behind the spell didn't want to hurt her," he continued.
"I was afraid that this might happen. Don't mention this to anyone, my boy." Albus said warily. He had been hiding this for so long now that he was afraid of the truth coming out. But he had to keep this a secret, hide it for as long as possible. He had to cement Miss Granger's relations with Potter and Weasley. He may have pushed it onto them after he saw the way she had been treated the first year: some suggestion implanted in their minds, some potions here and there to make them more trusting and attached to each other. He had been doing all of that for the greater good; Hermione could never know the truth. He would lose her to Voldemort if she ever found out and that would be a terrible loss. It would set back the war effort and his plans to use her to help Harry survive.
"I'm not sure what we are discussing, Headmaster, but what happened with Granger is not common. Only Family magic would stop something like this, especially this curse. Her magic and Dolohov's somehow recognized each other," Severus said, exasperated by the old man's attitude. He needed to know what was happening, so that he would know what to look for and what to hide.
"Keep your voice down Severus, we don't want her overhearing us, there are a lot of things you don't know and I'd rather keep it that way. No one needs to know about this! Heal her and we'll let her recover here at Grimmauld Place before moving her to the Burrow."
"Is that a good idea? Black is dead, no one but that crazy is there. He could be a liability!" the potion master questioned, not sure what the old man was playing at.
"Don't worry about that, the house should be under Harry's name now, so it'll be fine," Dumbledore retorted absentmindedly, his mind already plotting something new.
Frustrated with the old man, Severus huffed and went back to finish healing Hermione. The girl had suffered extensive damage, but it wasn't fatal. It would take her a couple of days to recover, but bar a few scars, she would be completely fine.
Unknowingly to both men, Hermione had woken up a few minutes ago and had overheard most of the conversation. But with the extent of her injuries and all the blood loss she had suffered, she had fallen back asleep, her mind already trying to process the information she had overheard.
Hermione was standing in a room. It looked familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. She could see a woman holding a child; the woman looked familiar, her features resembled her own. Brown locks cascaded down her face, as unruly as her own. The child was a girl, when her eyes met those of the infant, recognition flashed. Those eyes, her own, stared back at her, shining with youth's innocence.
The woman was singing and rocking the little girl—her. Hermione was mesmerized by the sight in front of her. The woman was looking at her with so much love it was unsettling. Who was this woman, why was she looking at her this way? The conversation she had overheard between Snape and Dumbledore flashed into her mind. She was trying to process what she had overheard—secrets, lies, deception. What was the Headmaster playing at? He portrayed a picture of grandfatherly love and joviality, but was that the truth, or a mere mask?
Snape had mentioned familial magic, she had been spared because the magic recognized her. Dolohov's curse hadn't killed her because his magic had established her as kin. Who was this woman? Was she her mother? She wasn't sure, she didn't know. Her mind was all over the place, thoughts and ideas flashing erratically in her mind.
Suddenly her surroundings shifted, and the picture in front of her changed. A man was holding the child now, he looked familiar: Dolohov, Hermione realized. It was a younger version of the man. He was holding her, a look of complete and utter happiness on his face.
"I love you my little Hermione, please remember that no matter what happens, I love you more than anything." He kissed the infant in his arms on the forehead and placed her gently in her crib.
Was he her father? Was she adopted? How did she end up with the Grangers? The man standing in front of her holding her, wouldn't have let her go without a fight, she was sure of that. He was showing so much love and care in the brief exchange. Something must have happened, and Dumbledore was involved somehow.
Rage started to build up inside her. All these questions, all these half truths were painting an image in her mind, one that she did not like. One that she hoped wasn't the truth.
The scene in front of her shifted again, but this time, Hermione was met by cries and loud voices.
Memories, these were memories, she now realized. But why now? Had her contact with Dolohov made them reemerge?
The same woman from the vision before was pointing her wand at an intruder. Dumbledore, Hermione realized, a much younger version of the man.
"Now, now, Anya, give me the girl, and I will let you leave," he said, his voice calm and collected.
"Do you honestly expect me to give you my child? Are you a fool? I would rather die than give her to you," she retorted, her hold on her wand tightening, her knuckles turning white from the tightness of her grip. Hermione saw how frightened she was, but at the same time she saw her determination. She would do anything to protect her child, Hermione. Her name resonated in her mind, again and again, Anya, Anya, Anya…
"You leave me no choice. I'd rather have spared you, but I can't leave her with you. She's too dangerous. Antonin has already been dealt with, he too wouldn't let me in without a fight." Dumbledore took out his wand and a duel ensued. They were matched—Anya blocked all the spells and threw multiple ones at the old wizard.
Unfortunately, as the duel progressed, Anya started showing signs of fatigue. Hermione desperately wanted to help. The scene was breaking her heart. Seeing a woman she didn't know fight so hard to protect her, filled her heart with love. Her anger towards Dumbledore continued to grow. With every spell he was uttering, with every move, Hermione grew angrier at the man who had seemingly attacked a woman to take away her child.
When a spell broke through Anya's shield, Hermione cried out in anguish. But nothing could be done, she had no powers here, she was just a spectator. The woman, her mother, went down, blood spilling from her mouth. Hermione could see her still trying to fight, holding on for her little girl.
"Her..mi..one…" she coughed and more blood spilled out. Desperately, Anya sent an ultimate spell towards Dumbledore. As a blue jet of light flew across the room, the old man shielded, sending the spell right back at her. Hermione screamed and cried as she saw the spell hitting her mother. Anya was thrown across the room, hitting the wall with immense force. She died on impact. Hermione watched in despair as the light left her eyes. She tried to reach out to her but she was helpless. She couldn't do anything. Tears were flowing down her face, as she saw this woman, her mother, dead.
Rage, yes that was what she was feeling. Anger and rage, all directed towards one man, Albus Dumbledore. Seething with hate, she watched as he made his way to her crib, sparing a fleeting glance in the direction of the dead woman, before moving and taking a hold of the crying child.
"Now you will grow up to be everything they weren't, you will be a child of the light and you will sacrifice yourself for the Greater Good. You will not become what the prophecies foretold, I will not let it happen. Not again."
He mumbled something and suddenly Hermione saw herself succumbing to sleep.
She woke up in a panic, her cry caught in her throat. She could feel her body aching and her head hurting. She was confused and angry.
Were the things she had just seen memories? She wasn't sure, but they felt real. She just had this gut instinct telling her that what she had just seen had been her past. Her mind started to form theories. Why had she remembered now? The most plausible explanation seemed to be that her contact with Dolohov's spell or magic and its recognition of her had provoked a chain reaction. Memories previously blocked by her mind had resurfaced.
Family magic was a manifestation of the magic held in the blood of the user. As magic is chaos, blood is the balance, holding the power and channeling it through the body of the witch or wizard. Family magic was a concentration of that power passed on by blood, a link. Every generation gained more power and grew stronger with the introduction of new blood, new magic into it. Unfortunately for the British Wizarding Society, they had forgotten that new blood needed to be introduced to the line in order to keep it strong. They had mixed and mashed their blood together, until the magic started to dwindle down.
Her blood had been spilled, and her magic had surfaced to save her from a deadly fate.
"Miss Granger, you're awake," She heard the distinct voice of her potions professor, snapping her out of her contemplation.
"I need to check on your wounds and you will have to take some potions for the pain," he told her in his usual tone.
She nodded, preferring not to speak. Her emotions were still running high. Anger was by far the strongest emotion she was feeling, followed closely by hate and resentment.
She needed to get to the bottom of this. She needed to do some research and figure out what was real and what was fiction. She could not reconcile the men in her memories as being the same men she had encountered. The Dolohov in her mind was completely different than the one she had seen. Same could be said about Dumbledore, whom she was now seeing in a whole new light.
Secrets and lies surrounded her and she was drowning in the sheer volume of them.
Dolohov stared blankly at the wall. He had felt her magic. After all these years he had finally found her, his precious daughter. He had thought her dead for the longest time, he had thought the old man had killed her when he had killed his wife. But he had felt her, after years of torment he had felt her. He had plotted the old wizard's death for years, sitting in his Azkaban cell. Oh, how he hated that man, hated all that he stood for and claimed to be. He was angry, enraged even. Dumbledore had taken away his daughter and killed his wife. He would make him pay, kill him with his own hands.
Sitting in his office at Hogwarts, Dumbledore stared blankly at a globe. Long ago, a prophecy had been made about him, one that he held on to with everything he had. His biggest and most well kept secret. Its words still resonate in his head, a whisper of what could have been.
Balance between Dark and Light will be reestablished
Possessing powers that rival those of Merlin
A young child will be born of dark and light
Destined to defeat the Master of the Elder wand
Bringing a new era with her ascent
An era of controlled chaos
The one with the power to vanquish the Master of the Light approaches born as the ninth month peaks