A/N: Slang (which will be italicized) and their meanings will be on my profile!
Chapter One - Final Round
Kimaine James POV
Thursday, 15 June 2013
The Time Travel project was a project that I had trained for my entire life (or well the last six years, if you want to be specific.) We all had, really. The chance to go into the past to change the events that had transpired would be amazing, and every person from all over the country had been preparing for this for years.
The idea was to have a group of fifteen or so students and two adults to go to Harry Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts. None of us had any idea how we would convince Dumbledore to allow us entrance, but I guessed that we had to wait and see. Professor Adrian had promised that everything would turn out the way it was supposed to.
Did I believe him? Of course.
As I sat in my school's Assembly Hall a nervous excitement was buzzing around me and my friends. Today was the day that we would be going through our last test to determine who would be chosen to travel back to the past. The only downside was that we had to do it in front of all the twenty-five finalists, and that in itself was nerve-wrecking. Did I add that the finalists were from all over the world?
"Number Eleven, please come forward!"
A hard poke in my side brought me out of my daydreams. I glared at my best friend and hissed, "What the Hell, Kerri! That hurt!"
Said best friend rolled her eyes. "You're up, Kim! They called you!" Although she tried to appear nonchalant, I clearly noticed the worry in her dark grey eyes. Her red curls stood wildly in all directions, giving her a slightly crazy appearance.
I offered her a reassuring smile and quickly stood up. We were luckily seated near the front of the Assembly Hall, so the walk to the stage was short and over quickly. When I reached the middle of the stage, I took a deep breath and faced the three Professors (or trainers, if you will). On the right side was Professor Mira Muller – a grumpy but talented old witch that had been with our school for over thirty years now. Her grey hair was tied into a loose bun, and she wore a bored expression as she quickly finished her notes.
Next to her sat Professor Adrian James, lovely brother of mine. He was the youngest teacher at Grey's School of Magic, being only twenty eight years old. His dark hair hung in his green eyes as he gazed thoughtfully at me. Seeing my frown, he flashed me a quick smile, which I weakly returned.
Then, next to Adrian, was Professor Demarco Bulero. He was around thirty-eight years old and had only stared to teach DADA here last year, but since he used to be an Auror he was much respected. He lifted his dark eyes to me, and said in his rich voice, "Please state your full name, age, and Country of Origin."
You can do this, Kimaine! It's an easy enough question. "Kimaine James, 16 years old. I was born and raised in the Eastern Cape, South Africa." My voice was crystal clear, belying the slight nervousness churning in my gut. This was our final test, after all. I couldn't afford to screw this up.
Bulero hummed. "Why should you be part of the group to travel to the past?"
That was actually a good question and I had to think about my answer for a while. I knew that from our group, the Professors wanted some of us to join Voldemort's ranks to act as spies. I was a reasonably good actress and I wasn't really an emotional girl. I cleared my throat and said, "I believe I would be able to join the ranks of Voldemort. I'm reasonably good at casting glamours, and I'm well versed in the Dark Arts." This didn't mean I was comfortable casting them, mind you.
Professor Bulero nodded and asked me why I thought so. "I am a reasonably good actress, and I can actually stand the sight of, well, violence."
The dark-skinned Professor nodded and said, "What's the worst thing you've ever seen?"
I thought for a while. "I saw two of my best friends die at the hand of Lord Voldemort," I replied, doing my best to keep my voice level.
"How did they die?" Professor Muller asked me, suddenly looking interested.
None of your business! I thought angrily. I gritted my teeth to stop myself from yelling at her for asking such a personal question. It would've totally ruined any chance of being part of the Project. So I took a deep breath, looked her steadily in the eye, and said, "He hit them with a curse of his own creation, and it caused them pain worse than a Crucio. Then he casted another curse of his that made a virus in their bloodstream that eats the body from the inside out within five minutes." I was both surprised and proud of myself. I had told them how my friends died without breaking down, stuttering, faltering, or anything of that sort. I made it sound like I was telling them about the weather. I breathed a mental sigh of relief. You can break down later, I told myself consolingly.
"I see. And your motivation for training all these years is because of that?" the African professor questioned, though the look in his dark eyes told me that he already knew my answer.
"Yes, sir," I replied.
The Professors murmured to each other for a few moments, but I knew it was my brother's idea to give me some time to compose myself. I felt really grateful towards him, which I knew he knew for he shot me a quick smile.
After a while each of the professors gave me multiple situations. It was designed to make a person think, and then say what they would do in said situation. There were a lot of different scenarios, and some of them really upset me. But I kept my calm, thought really hard about my answers, and told them the truth. The trio also quizzed me on what I knew about the events of Harry Potter's fifth and sixth year.
After what felt like an eternity they were done and dismissed me. I was so grateful and all I wanted to do was run off of the stage. But I didn't. I walked calmly until I reached my friends. I sat down, offered them a smile, and said in a happy voice, "I think they loved me."
Lefu, sitting next to me, grinned and nodded. "We couldn't hear what was being said," Lefu told me, "But the Profs looked pretty impressed."
"They did?" I asked, relief evident in my voice.
The dark skinned teenager nodded at me and turned back to the book in his hands. I eyed his shaved head and lifted my eyes to Kerri, who was seated on his other side. Meeting my gaze, she started shaking with supressed giggles, and I found myself having to hold in my laughter, too. We still couldn't get over the fact that Lefu had decided to shave his head.
Irritated brown eyes lifted from the book and shot a glare at both me and Kerri. "Yes, I shaved my head. Get over it already."
"Sorry," we mumbled, not really sorry at all. I eyed the seventeen year old's newly pierced ears and the baboon fang necklace around his neck. He looked like a guy you shouldn't mess with. Which was true – Lefu knew some seriously harmful Dark spells. I was even afraid of the seventeen year old sometimes.
"Look at Number 13," Kerri whispered lowly and nodded her head to the right.
Curious, I followed her gaze to a young girl who appeared to be around fourteen years old. From where we were sitting, I noticed that she had a slight build and short brown hair. "What about her?" I questioned, wondering what was on my ginger friend's mind. Number 13 looked pretty normal.
"She looks so…insignificant," Kerri replied with a frown. "She still looks like a little girl. What could she possibly do for the Ravens?!"
As if hearing what Kerri said, the girl's head snapped up and she turned to glare angrily at Kerri. Before she could say anything, however, Professor Muller called out, "Number Thirteen, you're up!" The girl narrowed her eyes one last time, before standing up and walking to the stage. She was dressed in black skinny jeans, a tank top, and a leather jacket. She was filled with self-confidence rarely seen in 14-year-olds.
"Dude, I take back my words," Kerri said, her voice awestruck. "She looks badass."
I knew instantly what Kerri was referring to: The girl, number 13, had a vicious-looking scar beside her right eye. It stood out so much against her olive skin, that I was amazed at myself for not noticing it before.
Next to me, Lefu sighed with irritation and snapped his book shut. "Don't either of you know who she is?" he questioned, with a tone that clearly stated that we were stupid if we didn't.
"Number Thirteen?" Kerri asked uncertainly. She looked at me, but I shook my head. I had no idea who this girl was.
Lefu shook his head disapprovingly and said (in his teacher voice), "Her name is Kali, but she's better known as Kaliza Rayne. When she was eight years old, she was arguing with a boy living in the same orphanage as she did. Her anger mixed with her screaming caused her magic to lash out and smash all of the windows in the room. This, of course, alerted the Training Facility, who went to the orphanage and offered to train her. She's been with them ever since."
My mouth dropped open. "The Training Facility? No way!" I gasped. The Training Facility was an underground group that recruited young children and trained them in all types of magic and physical combat and material arts. The chance of someone being recruited was next to nothing.
"Issit, really? Wow, she really must be talented," Kerri said, amazed.
"Yes," Lefu said bluntly and a little seriously. "So don't underestimate her. Ever." His voice was hard, telling me how serious he was being.
I sighed and nodded. I've known Lefu since I was eight years old – in other words, I've known him for roughly eight years. Whenever Lefu used his "serious" voice, it was better to just listen to him. I've learnt that the hard way.
As Lefu went back to his book, and Kerri started quietly chatting with some guy who appeared to be in a bad mood, I thought back to how, exactly, I met Lefu.
The day I met him was somewhere in May 2005. I wasn't sure of the exact date, to be honest.
It was a few weeks after my eight birthday when the news came that another village had been attacked. The reasons why the village was attacked were unknown. All that we knew was that they had done something to seriously anger Lord Voldemort. It was made known that there were only a few survivors. Adrian, who was nineteen at the time, was asked to accompany the then-still Auror Bulero and the other important Aurors to round up said survivors.
There were six in total, Lefu and his little sister being two of them. I remember my brother showing up at our house with young African boy who held a toddler in his arms.
"They'll be staying with us from now on," Adrian had said tiredly, looking years older than he actually was. "They are our family now."
I was excited to finally have someone to call my family. Sure, I had Adrian. But he was my older brother and the only family I've ever known. I didn't have a mother or a father or a sister. This was my chance, the one I've dreamed of for years.
"This is Lefu and his little sister, Abri. He is nine and she's two. Lefu, this is my sister Kimaine."
At first it had been hard to get along with the African boy. He refused to talk to anyone and was at his sister's side 24/7. But with time (and a LOT of chocolates) I'd managed to get him to talk to me. It was short sentences, things like "thank you" and "please" and "no thanks". But within five months, he started to open up, a little more each day. He told me what his favourite colour was; he told me his favourite food and things to do. We developed a tentative friendship.
By 2007 we were extremely close. We knew everything about each other, and protected each other's deepest and darkest secrets. Nothing could get in the way of our friendship…or so we thought.
Two of my closest friends were brutally murdered right in front of me. There was no escaping it. Why the Dark Lord allowed me to live, I will never know. But this terrible image had been burned into my mind like a tattoo. The horror that I witnessed caused me to close up and build mile-high walls around my heart. It took four months' coaxing to get me to start talking again, much to the relief of Kerri, my brother, and Lefu.
Slowly but surely I recovered. I once again became the girl I was before everything happened. But I had a terrible hate which infested my heart. One day, I vowed, I'll make Voldemort pay for what he did.
Kerri heard me making this vow, and joined in.
We swore to avenge our friends, and to make a difference in this Dark world. No one deserved to live in the terrible Darkness that Voldemort and his Death Eaters created. No one.
"BREAK TIME! COME BACK IN HALF AN HOUR!"
The loud, booming voice of Professor Bulero jolted me out of my thoughts. I felt slightly disorientated as loud chatter started to fill the Assembly Hall and the teenagers started making their way outside.
Lefu glanced at me with concern. "Are you ok, Kim?"
I nodded slowly. "I'm tired, is all," I said. I noticed the badly-disguised impatience on Kerri's face, and added, "Let's go outside. I don't know about you guys, but I need the fresh air."
I didn't miss Kerri's look of relief as we hurried out of the school building. "We're almost done, thank goodness," she said. Lefu and I followed behind the ginger as she walked into the surrounding forest. I breathed the clean air in deeply. I loved the smell of rain that always lingered here. It was refreshing and calming.
Soon we reached a little mountain stream and plopped down onto the damp grass. Kerri wrung her hands together and said nervously, "I can't believe that it's my turn after break! Now I have a whole 30 minutes to stress!"
My eyebrows lifted in surprise. Kerri was Number Twenty, which meant that I was spaced out for far longer than I'd have thought. "You'll do great, Kerri, don't worry," I said as I leaned back against the Cherry tree trunk. "You shouldn't worry and work yourself up. Stay calm. This fidgety attitude is unlike you."
If it was anyone else, they would have taken offence. But not Kerri. She breathed in deeply and nodded at me in thanks. "You're right, of course. Father would kill me if he saw me just now."
I rolled my eyes. Kerri came from a pretty stuck up Pureblood family who was decidedly Grey. They chose the winning side. But Lord Alders clearly stated that, for the time being, their family was Neutral. I wasn't so sure if I believed him.
Lefu frowned suddenly and fished his BlackBerry out of his jean pockets. His frown only deepened as he continued reading whatever it was on his phone. He muttered a curse in Zulu that I couldn't understand.
Instantly worried, I asked, "What is it, Lefu?"
Kerri, too, looked concerned as we gazed at the troubled teen.
"I just received this text from Wistful," he started, referring to an Anonymous witch who spread word of events concerning Voldemort the second it happened. "She says: "Dark Lord strikes again! Hogsback the victim. 20 confirmed dead, more than 60 taken to Death Camps.""
Hogsback was a small village like two hours away from where we were. I sat, frozen with horror. 20 dead? More than 60 taken to Death Camps? What the F-
"Well, fuck," Kerri whispered. "Since when has there been Death Camps in the Eastern Cape?!"
"Since today, I would guess." Lefu paused as he received another text. ""3 DEATH CAMPS SET UP IN EASTERN CAPE. EXACT LOCATIONS ARE UNKNOWN. Be careful, witches and wizards! Voldemort is getting serious." This is bad."
We stayed silent, not sure what to say. This was…this was terrible. Death Camps are Camps that Voldemort created with the sole purpose of creating misery. Women, children, and men are all thrown into separate Camps. Each Camp had a number in a specific language. One was usually used for men, two for children, and three for women.
Rebels were sent to these Death Camps with the sole intention of either killing them off, or getting them to turn Dark. No one wanted to be in the presence of Dementors.
So basically, rebels were sent to these camps (which has similar conditions as Azkaban), until they finally die out of sorrow, join the other side or take their own life. I had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that Voldemort had been rather clever to think this up.
Death Camps were guarded by both male Death Eaters and Dementors. The men were there to taunt the women and mistreat them. The Dementors were there to drain every ounce of happiness.
In the past, South Africa had been relatively safe from Voldemort and his followers. But this year he'd decided to try out for complete world domination. Out of the nine provinces of South Africa, four of them were under Voldemort's control; those four provinces being Limpopo, Mpumalanga, the North West, and Gauteng.
Well, make it five, I thought drily.
I silently stood up and brushed the dirt off of my own jeans. The peacefulness that had been with me only moments before was completely gone. I needed to talk to my brother. Lefu and Kerri shot me questioningly glances, but I simply shook my head. "I'm going to speak with Adrian," I said. Seeing them making the motions to stand up, I added pointedly, "I'll see you guys when the Tests resume."
I turned around and left without waiting for a reply. I walked as fast as I could without actually running, and within minutes I reached Grey's School of Magic. I entered the Assembly Hall without knocking, knowing that interrupting the Professors would come back to bite me in the ass later.
Two pairs of eyes shot up in surprise when I entered the room, one green and the other brown. I breathed a mental sigh of relief that Prof Muller wasn't in the room. "What's wrong, Kim?" Adrian asked immediately, his shoulders tensed.
"You seem upset," Bulero commented.
"There's been another attack," I said, my voice tight. "It's said that there are 20 confirmed dead, and another 60 taken to Death Camps."
There was a pause. "How do you know this, James?" Bulero asked in a hard voice. "This is no time to play games."
I flushed with embarrassment and mumbled, "Wistful let my friend know."
Adrian's eyes narrowed dangerously. Let's just say Wistful wasn't very popular with the Aurors or Professors. Or any authority figure, for that matter. They despised her for letting the youth of today know what was going on. The media always tried to downplay events, but Wistful let us know the hard truth. Adrian breathed in deeply, trying to calm down. He shot a look at Bulero, who nodded. "What else did she say?"
I cleared my throat. "Right. She said that the Dark Lord put three new Death Camps here in the Eastern Cape."
"You know what this means, right?" Adrian asked lowly, after a few seconds of shock.
Bulero's voice was grim as he said, "The Eastern Cape is now under Voldemort's command."
A/N 2: This is unbeta'd! Thanks for the reviews, I appreciate it! A special thanks to The Golden Lilys Secret for your help and continued support (:
If you don't understand the South African Provinces, just google it under the very same name :)