Black Stained

Chapter 18: Awake


Author's note:

Hello everyone,

Pfff, writing this chapter was difficult, I have to admit. All the while I listened to various sorts of film soundtracks, but mostly Hans Zimmer's: no time for caution (which is beautiful by the way). This may explain the dark theme of this chapter.

Yes, this chapter is dark. Very dark. This note is sort of a warning.

You are getting to read a glimps of Aral's dark past and this may clear up some things.

I'm only questioning the measure of this dark past in contrast with how she is now. Maybe the future her is a bit too cheery in contrast to what happens here.

Please review, helps me out a lot. Thank you all for reading, hope you like it!

-Jody

Pain. Like rats gnawing their way through flesh. Fire biting in your veins and boiling your blood. Being pulled inside out and no hope for salvation left. The harsh wooden flour hurting your knees. Splinters in your skin. And the screams... never ending. It didn't sound like your own voice anymore. You've had become someone else, like you're split and parted from yourself. Memories were summoned into your mind.

You didn't want to look, didn't want to see.

But there was no choice... no choice.


A soft voice, giggling.

'Harry!'

A pair of green eyes looking at another pair of green. Little screams and panting, they're running. The soft grass surrounding them. Giggling children. Happiness.

A flash and there are extraordinary things happening. Things the Potter siblings found out they could do.

The memories take a leap through time. Landing before an older Harry and Aral. Going to hogsmeade, sometime before they met Sirius Black. Laughing, happy. Step after step through the thick snow, no worry on their minds. Laughing again.


The sound hurt your ears.

But you couldn't stop the memories. Another scream, filling the room. Your were being tossed around the room, landing against hard wood and cold stone, feeling your body bruise and bleed. But there was no stopping it. Only surviving.

It suddenly stopped and you softly heard someone say they're done with you for today. You couldn't see, feel or hear anything anymore. You could barely smell the disgusting scent of Greyback carrying you back. Dropping you on the ground without care and leaving you alone.

Alone.

All alone.

Broken.

The thumping footsteps of Greyback rithmetic booming through the floor against your ear.

You started humming on the rhythm. Forming a... a lullaby.

Lullaby. Lullll-abyy.

You giggle, thinking the word sounds funny. Your neck in a strange crook, but no energy left to lift it.

Green eyes still dancing in front of your eyes like ghost hunting you down. You felt like crying, but also did't. Split. Parted.

Feeling and unfeeling at the same time.

The green fated away and got replaced with grey. Silver.

'Draco.'

A hand landed on your cheek and checked your temperature. Your sight started dancing and became blurry.

'Aral.' Faintly in the distant. But he was so close. So close.

'Stay with me, Aral. Stay with me, keep your eyes open.'

But they were too heavy and you just want to sleep. Sleep.

Have I slept? Ever? What does sleep feel like?

You can't form words properly, but you try telling him anyway.

'No, Aral! You can't sleep now. You won't sleep. You will sleep forever.'

The silver looked so beautiful, why don't more people have eyes like his?

'Forever seems fine with me.' You mutter.

Forever. Such a beautiful word.

Your eyes started to close and it felt like slow motion.

Desperate eyes staring into yours. He was still trying to keep you awake.

Why does he even bother...

You did't want to be awake anymore. Never.

Finally your eyes close.


With a bang Aral apparated and landed in a muggle street. Abandoned. Her eyes scanned the houses and searched for the right number. Her eyes landed on a small corner house with the number nineteen painted on the door. With swift steps she glided across the street and walked up the porch. In front of the ugly door she halted. She had done this before; rounded up muggles or muggleborns, for information or just for the dark lords pleasure. But right now she wasn't hunting information for the dark lord. No, she was doing this for herself. She needed to do this, she needed to know. She unlocked the door and stepped inside the hall. Her magic surged through her body and she let go of it, letting it inspect the house. It was like her sixth sence, a third hand or extra pair of eyes. Helpfull; she know knew there was one person in the living room -muggle- and one in the kitchen -witch. Her head tilted when she felt a third person. A small person upstairs, sleeping in a bed. The soft snorring entered her ear, but she pushed it away and chose to ignore it. Leaning against the wall next to the door, which let to the living room, she listened to the conversation between the two people who were oblivious of her presence.

'...and a knew vacuum. The old one has given up.'

'This list is growing rather long, Andrew.' The woman spoke from the kitchen.

'Yeah, yeah I know.'

Water was running through the tap and rumbled on the dishes, the woman was cleaning them. After a while the water stopped and the witch took a towel to dry her hands. She walked to the living room with a look on her face. Although Aral could not see the people, she could feel the tension.

'Andrew, you do know...'

The man sighed.

'Yeah, I know, alright. You have to go to see that other... woman.' He didn't want to say the word 'witch'.

He and his wife had talked about it only moths ago, because the situation in the wizarding society had become... dangerous, especially for muggleborns. And their son was nine now, only one year and a half untill he got to go to hogwarts. Though Sara, the witch, didn't know for sure, with everything that was going on at the time. Wizards and witches disappearing and people starting to flee, the ministry tried to hush everything and keep order, but chaos was looming around seeking its chance to pop out and start, shake people up. And on the controling end of chaos was the danger, Voldemort.

The woman knelt down and took a hold on her husbands hands. They were strong and warm. She squeezed them a little.

'They can give us protection. On our house and such. Protect our son.'

'I just don't understand how that would help. Who would want anything from us?'

'I do.' Aral stepped around the corner and into the light.

Sara reached for her wand and Andrew sprang up. The witch hesitated, but then fired her spells at Aral.

'Stupify. Stupify!'

Aral simply waved her hand and a shield formed around her, blocking each spell. The woman seemed to give up and lowered her wand.

'What are you doing in our house? What do you want? ' Andrew exclaimed, still a bit in shock. He took one step forward and shoved his wife behind him, as if protecting her. Aral mentally laughed at this move, the woman behind him had more chance of defending them than he did, although he was big and had muscles, he would not stand a chance.

'What I want is not something you can give to me, I'm afraid' She answered him cryptically.

'But instead, the only thing I will ask of you some information.'

'Who are you?' The man tried to hide his fear and sound confident, but he failed.

Aral ignored the man, her attention was on the witch. The woman glanced up at the ceiling, where Aral knew her child was. A mother's instict, how lovely.

'A mother's instinct.' The woman's eyes widened and quickly stared at Aral again.

'So lovely. You know, I never had a mother.'

She took a step forward when the two didn't answer, she had their full attention. Good. She picked up a framed picture, which showed a happy family, smiling brightly. Her tumb stroked the small child in its father's arms.

'But she was killed. I was orphaned with my brother at the age of one.' She turned back to the couple and glided passed them to the window. They weren't going to do something she could sense that. Sara was listening intently to her story, wand lowered and Andrew knew he couldn't do anything, he felt powerless, and he was right.

'A- Aral P-Potter?' The woman stuttered.

'Correct. Ten points to... Hufflepuff, am I right?'

Aral said without turning around and looking at the woman. Sara didn't answer her question, but she already knew she was right. She looked down at her hands and pulled her sleeves further down, almost covering the tips of her fingers too.

'What do you want?' Sara demanded.

'Good question. Information.' Now she turned around and looked her straight in the eyes.

'Because you've crossed paths with the same child who orphaned at age one just a few months before that horrible evening, haven't you?'

The woman swallowed and tears welled up in her eyes. Her husband, Andrew, looked confused.

'What are you talking about? I don't understand, Sara.' He protectively put his arms around his wife.

But she pushed him away and closed her eyes. She let go a shuddering breath and Aral knew she had come to the right person this time.

'Tell me,' She took one slow step forward to the witch. 'what happened before.'

A lone tear rolled down Sara's cheek and she looked up at the, whom she now knew to be, dangerous witch.

'I was working at the ministry's departement of lost wizards and witches.'

She took a deep breath, her heart was pounding fast.

'A woman, had disappeared from her home and had left everything behind. She had no family, not that I knew of and only neighbors and distant friends. They didn't understand why she had left and I was set on the case, just a young new intern, fresh from hogwarts. The whole departement considered it a lost case, that's why they gave it to me. But I found a lead.'

She paused and took another deep breath. Not only Aral, but also Andrew was now listening contently.

'Sixteen days I have searched for her and looked at every lead.'

She turned away from Aral.

'I knew there was something strange going on, but my boss said I had to drop the case...'

Aral felt something inside her.

'So I did.'

She closed her eyes. Clenched her fists untill her knockles turned white.

'After a while I forgot the case.'

Sara's voice was small now.

'After three weeks someone came at my door. A woman. The woman. But she was not alone.'

Aral's eyes opened and she slowly looked up. The other woman turned back now and looked into the green eyes, which were turning black, slowly.

'You look so much like her, except for your-... green eyes.'

Aral didn't know what she felt, or if she even felt anything at all. But her magic started feeling on its own.

'Who was she?'

Sara opened and closed her mouth again.

'I- I can't tell you.'

'You can't tell me?' Her eyes narrowed, tears giving them a dangerous gleam.

'You caN'T TELL ME?! MY MOTHER, WHO WAS SHE!'

Anger fired up inside her and her blood boiled. The blackness took over. The pure hate. The utter loss.

Andrew took a hold of his wife. He knew what was coming. He prepared himself to fight, although he knew he was going to loose anyway.

'Give me a reason why I shouldn't make that child upstairs an orphan too?' She hissed like a snake.

Her expression was so dark and her eyes pitch black, no longer the bright, happy green. The blood of the couple ran cold and they were so afraid. Aral could feel it, she deprived her power from it, their fear radiating from their bodies added to her anger. Her neck twisted up and turned in a half circle, her eyes almost bulging out of her skull. She inhaled deeply while she let the anger and the destructive power flow. All her anger and pain, all of it. The torture and loneliness she had felt. But she had survived. But there was nothing left for her here. Her fingers enclosed around the womans neck and she pushed her against a wall. She took back a little of her control and softened her grip to let the woman breath. Andrew had tried to strike at her, but she had hexed him, now bleeding all over the ugly carpet. He looked so pathetic. The sound of Voldemort echoed through her mind, controlling her. For a second she closed her eyes and breathed, trying to steady her anger.

'There must be some file about her, isn't there? Where is it?'

The woman shook her head.

'WHERE IS IT?' The anger wasn't going to let her have control, Aral knew this. She needed to know.

The woman said nothing, but instead raised her arm and pointed at a wooden desk. Aral glanced at it and saw a drawer.

'Drawer?'

The woman nodded, not able to speak. Tears were streaming down her face like waterfalls and her face puffy. Aral let her go and flew across the room to the desk. The woman behind her fell to the ground and gasped for the air, desperate for live. She grawled to her husband who was covered in blood. But Aral paid them no mind, her attention focused on the drawer.

Her mother.

Mother.

Who was it? Slowly she pulled open the drawer which reveiled only one envelope. It contained something heavy and thick. She opened it and first pulled out the thin parchement. The fine creasing, neatly folded. She unfolded the paper and read the first sentence.

Her head started spinning. she read the whole thing. No name, no where.

'No name... Why?'

She spun around.

'WHY IS THERE NO NAME?'

The woman was sobbing loudly, bended over her husband.

'She never had a name. She was a John Doe.' She continued to sob.

Afraid of what the dangerous witch could do to them, or their child.

The paper in Aral's hand lit up in flames and fell to the ground. But then something else fell with a loud thud. The other thing the envelope had contained. Aral reached down and picked it up. Upon seeing it, her hand formed a fist around it and her eyes darkened even more.

The windows flew open and the wind came howling in. Papers flew in the air and the curtains curled with the wind. The burning paper's flames blazed up and spread a dangerous light around the dark place. Aral started to tremble, anger overflowing and feeling lost. What was happening? A very small voice, far away, whispered something.

What happened to you?

A pain built up inside her and it needed to get out. She inhaled deeply and let out an agonysing scream. And fell down to her knees, not able to stand anymore, no energy. What she didn't know or did on purpose, was the green flash of light, not coming from her hands, but from the centre of her heart. The husband and wife still together and holding each other, slumped down to the ground, motionless. Tears were dripping from their eyes, which were still open showing glassy eyes staring into oblivion. The man's eyes were staring at his wife, but the woman's -Sara's- were trained on the ceiling. On her child.

The pain Aral felt was indescribable. No words will ever be able to discribe her pain and guilt. The things she has done consumed her and it is a wonder she is still able to wake up every morning and continue her day.

The wind had stopped and everything was quiet. Terrible silence filled the air. Untill it got broken by the small creak of the staircase in the hall.