~~Prologue~~
I took a deep breath, afraid to stop, afraid of my own voice. What had I just said? I had poured my life out, the secret life kept so voicelessly quiet, in a few tumbled paragraphs, my thoughts so confused. Yet, I can recite it clearly, as if the days of my much suffered the same as I.
I stole a quick, guilty glance at Ginny. She was entrenched - truly entrenched this time - in my story. She looked as if she was still listening, listening to a voice unheard; harking to the bells that tolled for the unknown. Her face was firmly intent, lips slightly parted.
"Why," she whispered, her voice a whimsical replica of ghosts.
The trees around me were black shapes, slightly darker than the deep blue of the night. They waved and swayed, sighing the same question in my ears. There was fluttering of birds...bats, perhaps, scorning at my ridiculous stance. I shook my head slowly, hoping the nocturnal sounds would stop.
"I had no choice," I began my chant again. "I met a seer, one that was actually mournfully accurate, as opposed to our dear Divination teacher. She was hobbling old, bent from age, burdened with wisdom. I was at the corner of Diagon Alley, about to approach Knockturn Alley, when a melody pierced the air. I turned around to face a beautiful lady, dressed in blue from head to toe. She stopped singing when I clapped my eyes on her."
---
I eyed her with a certain amount of curiosity.
"You are Selena," she said, keenly skimming my wand.
"Well guessed," I retorted coldly. "And you are - ?"
She paused dramatically, hoping I would succumb to her majestic air.
"I go by many descriptions, but alas, I have no name. Why is a third-year like you treading upon such a dangerous street?"
I could have scoffed at her remark. Dangerous? I never really learned the true meaning of danger. I don't even know if I've been in a dangerous situation.
"That is purely my decision."
"I had long thought the paws rescued you from a great and terrible fall...but of course, I could be wrong..."
Slightly perturbed by this statement, I showed signs of surprise, but made no effort to still the flash across my face.
She lifted her gloved hand to fix her bonnet. Rather abruptly, she began to speak, her voice rising and falling like a swift river.
"I was personally acquainted with your aunt, Selena. A wonderful person, she was. Politely accompanied by your uncle. She has left behind a family inheritance, and by her personality, I would believe it is your turn to possess this fortune..."
"That object is long lost; a woman like you should know."
"It is still upon the surface of this earth," she responded effortlessly and dully. Some part of her voice hinted monotony like droning text in schoolbooks, but yet another suggested this was earth-shaking news, something long mistaken now found again... "...sacredly preserved, that is. However, it has turned its sheen away from you - feeling that you were too close to the Dark Lord. You must make a sacrifice, before your hands are clean enough to touch its face. Are you willing?"
Someone far away started to scream, and for an instant, I was afraid that it was my own voice. But no, it was too wildly inhuman...
I turned to face the almost desolate street, my tiny, pathetic robes faintly rustling a brusque farewell to the lady. My head was backed away, but I continued to stare at her, my eyes boring into hers. I felt a mutual fate burdened upon my shoulders, delivered by this strange woman.
"No."
So long had I believed that this was merely a jewel with a particular glow, enchanting and mind numbing. So long have I been told that I would one day possess it to do my heart's wishes. But now, the touch of it was denied to me, and I am forced to banish the original thought from my mind.
How angry I am! I refused to accept this definition. How dare the jewel refuse me after all these years I was told that I will take it into my keeping, until my death! Now, I must make a sacrifice...
I started to walk away, to leave her standing there, gaping at my exit. But instead, she replied to my defiance with dignity, uttering six powerful words.
"Strong enough to destroy your master?"
I stopped, but did not turn around. The words burned in my head, hurting, gnawing at me to admit that I surely was the one. But I refused to do so.
Finally, she knew that I wanted her to go on, but did not have the strength to tell her.
"The Emerald. Its power originated from The Dark Lord himself. Fortunately, it was forever banished from him by his miscalculations. Now, you must be the wielder - that is, of course, if you are willing. The sacrifice is simple enough. The life of your most beloved."
The scream in the distance grew louder, most hysterical, until it reached a shivering shriek. Suddenly - it died. It was no longer there; peace was restored in the atmosphere.
I have no beloved. I thought. I will never possess it, then.
Bitter resentment flowed through me. The lady. She was the one who brought this news, tolling on like a doom-ringer. How much I wanted her to vanish from my invisible sight; The Emerald to go with her. They both never would have existed, and I would be contently satisfied.
Unexpectedly, a shock went through me.
I do have a beloved. Most beloved, the only beloved I know.
Sirius.
---
All colour was flushed out of Ginny. She looked as if a tube had been injected into her and was slowly withdrawing all life and wonder. A hapless collection of bones and flesh, I decided. No longer human.
A single tear faltered down her pale cheeks, something I thought never would be possible.
Did she scream? Was she the voice that was somehow implanted in my memory, as I was telling my story?
One look from her was all I needed. How could I have not noticed - she did.
Poor Ginny.
She wanted to know more, why I cannot say. She has a noticeable trait of storing sorrow, even prior to Harry's death. Now, with my added weight, she is starting to stumble, but still she trudges on, wanting to test her limit.
Again, I felt myself unable to contain the words that trailed out of my mouth. I have told her this far; I must not stop here. Better to complete my story than to weep over parts of it. An overwhelming desire to speak the memories took over me, and the dimly lit room blazed in front of my eyes once more.
---
I was harshly chained by invisible bounds, tightly choked against the coarse pole. My back was pressed to feel every splinter on the cursed wood, and my head was uselessly resisting the vindictive hold. I watched in silent horror at the shadowy figure bent over another, more irregular shape. He was stroking the animal with affection, and the other hand offered an odd variety of food.
Buckbeak was thoroughly enjoying both the meal and attention. I struggled again, and this time, the person lifted his head.
An odd look spread over his face, perhaps recalling futilely the younger days of mischief and happiness. It was indescribable; a mixture of pity, harshness, wit, and sarcasm, sprinkled with courage. He knew well enough what he was doing. Still he pretends.
"Dogs are thought to be obedient. Whoever told you that a dog form would suit your animagi taste is an asshole."
How bitter I was! He is approaching his final hours, and still I swear sardonically, instead of offering comfort and encouragement. I knew I was not going to make any difference to his attitude. But in the empty hole that resides in my heart, somewhere lost in the soul I bear, I found no encouragement at all to give. I could not say that it is alright to die, and it would benefit all living things. The sacrifice is not worth it.
He did not answer. He returned busily to look after Buckbeak, and I pulled back a tear that dangerously wobbled at the rim of my eye. The last preparations he did, the tender touch to everyone he would miss...
He was always one step ahead of me, trained by the days of his marauder life. Always plan, careful, meticulous, in case the candies don't go off correctly, have a backup...and the years in Azkaban taught him how hideous society of magic was, the harsh world, trickery and darker ways...
When alas he broke it, so gently to me that he has seen the lady in blue, the ghastly scene unraveled. He chained me quickly, before I could move, and my wand he laid inches away from my grasp. He told me of his plan – the mind of Voldemort, the seemingly harmless veil – his voice was heard, but I didn't hear anything at all. Finally, there was silence, and I stared coldly at him.
Suddenly, the door slammed open, signifying Snape's magnificent entrance. Does Severus know? Suicide and not blunder?
I shut out the world, the noises from Buckbeak, the muttering lies of Kreacher, and the groans of the patched floor when I settle my dangling feet with effort. I closed out everything, all senses, and locked myself in the body I inhabit. Concentrating, I searched in for any flaw or hole in the binding spell. But it was in vain – he was too talented for even me. Everywhere, I faced rejection.
He was walking away from the hippogriff after a last hug, and started to descend the stairs. He made no movement to fare me goodbye, but I did not need it. There was mutual understanding between us; we knew it was over. With a click of his shoes, I was released, and started to tumble my way blindly downstairs. I thought I saw Remus, a brief flash of his blonde hair and sympathetic eyes, but that must have been a hallucination. Just to calm myself, I gave a last, desperate scream.
"Moony! Moony! Padfoot has gone mad! He is going to kill himself..."
The words were drowned in an apparent grumpy smash of the door. I hurled myself to it, grappling its handle. But it was charmed. I dashed upstairs again, retrieved my wand and came back. No spell I tried worked. Exhaustion finally swept over my shivering body, which was covered with cold sweat.
I shuddered, and went into a haze. Somewhere remote I heard Kreacher snickering.
---
Pulled reluctantly back to reality, I saw myself trembling...
Someone was approaching us, and to keep solitude, we dashed through a tall thicket of bushes. Running was a mechanical, undirected way of occupying my mind after the reliving of my trauma. Ginny was much doing the same, deftly avoiding thorns and stickers, clambering on aside me. In the blackness, my see-through-brown eyes caught a blinding flash. I turned around, and no one emerged. But I could feel a menace very near, brooding our weaknesses, musing when to strike.
Suddenly, a silver hooded...
Dementor.
Right at the precise, wondrous moment, a dementor must present itself in front of us. The luck we have when I just finished telling perhaps the saddest story ever recorded in memory. Our brains were washed, soaked, drenched with melancholy and weariness, and the sole creature that preys on sadness appears. I didn't dare look at Ginny, but I knew she was much thinking the same. Poor, poor Ginny. It must have been harder for her, to hear my story, driven by curiosity. I already knew the content in my life, yet she had to suffer through suspenseful moments and terrible description – but now she knows, and now, she can help me with the ultimate errand that is the center of all my woes...
I felt my fingers gripping around my wand.
"Expecto Patronus..."
God damn me – how weak I was! My feeble words drained the last of its frail energy, thinning out into pathetic nothingness.
Think – happiness! Think! Think about schooling and the milky plants under midnight stars and Aunt Lydia – no.
No, not Aunt Lydia.
Not schooling either. No happiness was found in the way I was bottle up somewhere nice and hidden, the way I never had any chance to make friends, and the way I was treated like I didn't exist.
Not milky plants under midnight stars; I had never validly seen that. I never saw healthy plants, let a lone milky plants wave at the dark night above. Plants, perhaps, but they were near rotting, ill-fed, and gave off a disgusting stench.
"Selena."The cold voices mocked me, numbing my flesh and bone. There was shattering chill in this upbringing heat – a whispering chill that clutched your soul, and threatening to never let go. We were already weak – wouldn't it be better if I could just lie down and sleep...
Immediately, I felt like the sky was falling – piece by piece. What happened? Why are all the pigments of color frizzling and falling out of order?
Them.
They are tearing it up, the heavens are collapsing – they are destroying, destroying! Everywhere their voices echoed, ripping away life and warmth; crystals hung from my clothes, ice clung onto my face.
No!
No.
I must not fall asleep. They are taking away the only things left I admire and love. They are killing the scent of pungent flowers and shining sun, something that I haven't seen, but know somewhere they lay with open petals. They are robbing me of my last support, the very reason I want to live.
"Expecto Patronus!"
The tip of my wand flared dangerously.
Ginny was happy – she always was. Every time Harry would come over to the Weasley's she would bubble with laughter and radiance, forever the glowing ball of energy in their family.
What if Harry was still alive? Would she still sing for him, outmatching the competitive larks? Would she still flush madly when he smiled and said hello, give a wave or nod – even dance with her?
It was hard to image Harry alive again. Mere hours ago, Voldemort had obliterated him into void, and once again strung up his arrogant pose. It was a challenge, as he admitted it, but Harry is dead. It seemed like years before.
Distantly, I saw a black Labrador bound away from a girl to a Deatheater. The woman was slimmed to the bone, her face sunken and hollow, etched with poverty and detest. Forever she wore the look of an old hag, still yearning to by beautiful, saturated with perfume and make-up.
The dog knocked the woman down, and with a hiss she righted herself, hand shooting toward her wand.
"Crucio!"
The dog froze in midair, his fur rippling the spell's effects. He attempted a bark, but failed as his jaw was clamped tight in pain.
The girl did not weep or cry, but she stood there, firmly looking at the Deatheater. Slowly she drew her own wand, pondering a spell.
"Pellentium Raystia!"
Her decision proved a good one. But the woman growled, ducked and pointed, and the spell went awry.
"Release the dog," the child said. There was something odd about her tone - something insecure, immature. It took me a moment to realize it was the voice of an eight-year-old.
"My Master wishes your presence," the woman replied, smoothly adjusting her robes.
"Release the dog."
"My Lord wishes to discuss an important matter with you, Selena. He is a busy man, if I may suggest," she repeated.
"Release the dog, and I will come."
The creature, still clenched together, made a noise – a half-whimper-half snarl, signifying disagreement. The girl seemed startled at this; she couldn't believe that he could utter any sound under the Cruciatus Curse...
"Expecto Patronus!" I yelled, jingling a harmonious chime of voices. The girl was in me again.
An elegant, silver sparrow suddenly shot out, diving and swooping to net the dementors in confusion. They shrieked at the sight of it, their throaty sounds darting another effort to tear the world apart. Within minutes their cries died down, sunk under the bird's muffled screech. All of them swiftly vanished. The sparrow struck thrice, swerved a gracious loop; and then faded away.
I felt myself topple backwards a little by my own force. It came so easily that I was beginning to doubt something, an oddity, a trick...
Subconsciously I picked out a tiny detail, and a heavy weight was dropped in my stomach. Quickly it evaporated into acid heat, and melted within my body. Pain seared through my limbs, and the burning required me to turn.
Ginny was gone.