Summary:

It all started when Tom Riddle decided to ask an insignificant Hogwarts professor about the whereabouts of Ravenclaw's diadem, and 40 years later, his actions came back to bite him.

Follow Benetnasch through her years at Hogwarts.

My version of how the war ended in the Marauders' era, including horcux hunting, the chamber of secrets, and a new prophecy:

At the height of his power,
The dark lord shall be hammered gravely by five individuals.
First by a mudblood born at the end of the beginning month.
Second by a halfblood asked to bear the burden hardest again.
Third by a pureblood named after both the darkest and brightest.
Followed by a lycanthrope accepted the first hand scoffed the last.
Last by a turncoat nobility hidden deep in name deep in spirit.
Then he shall finally glimpse of his rival who is the heir of the hare:
...

"His knowledge of other families protesting not making the "Sacred Twenty-Eight" included the likes of Crabbe and Goyle, and they were hideous.

Well, whatever she was, Benetnasch Sovermerge was most definitely not hideous."

You stand in the presence of the Benetnasch Sovermerge of House Fawley, heir of Vengehenge.

Disclaimer:
J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. Most of my descriptions are based solely on her writing, such as the characters' appearances, their lines, and their reactions, and Hogwarts itself. Sometimes I just put in my own interpretation of Sirius' point of view.
However, I do own Benetnasch Sovermerge. And the Fawley family is entirely my creation based on the few words I learned about them from Rowling: they came from a village in Hampshire named after them. So, they were aristocrats in my setting; I meticulously planned this family and its members. However, since we all know there is no aristocracy in the wizarding world (and don't worry, I'm still sticking to that setting; the house of Fawley got their status before the Statue of Secrecy, and they are the only pureblood wizard specialty), I'll post my initial textual criticisms and reasons in the final chapter.
"Illyius and His Patronus" was a true story written by JK.
I hope you enjoyed my writing. I'm not actually a native speaker, so my English wouldn't be perfect. But I still try to make big plots and leave hints with the language here and there. For instance, think of the heroine's name as "Benetnasch Maia F Sovermerge" and see if you can transpose it to something like "I am Blahblahblah."
Comments are most welcome! This is my first story, somehow, I wouldn't feel comfortable writing Harry Potter fanfiction in anything other than its original language, and that includes my mother tongue.

Chapter 1: [Benetnasch POV] Wholeness

Reedited2023/2/19:

May 2nd, 1971

Benetnasch's eleventh birthday, considering she was a witch, only makes this day even more peculiar, except she was so not in the mood to celebrate now. Judging from the muffled voices coming from downstairs, her mother had a different idea, but Benetnasch hadn't felt like applauding for anything for three months, let alone her mother's idea of a birthday festivity.

Three months ago, she lost one of her best friends in the world: her father. They said it was an accident, a heart attack, and she was forced to believe it. After all, she had to give credit to her mother, whom everyone regarded as an extremely righteous woman; if her father's death was a forgery, she would pursue the perpetrator until the end of time. It didn't feel nice, though, to accept something like that.

Across her bed, where the window was opened, came the ringing of bells. Benetnasch closed her eyes and allowed herself to imagine that her father was still with her on her special day.

He would enchant the bells to ring for a whole day, announcing her birthday for all the villagers to know.

She guessed now that her mother was trying to keep up their tradition, and she felt some gratitude towards her for trying. Benetnasch can acknowledge her mother's own terrors; now, after 21 years of marriage with her father, albeit her longest and one filled with love from both sides, she finds herself again with another dead husband. She was now truly thrice married, thrice widowed; her reputation had never been worse.

Not that she would be that willing to be put on the market again; she still wore black to mourn for her husband, but Benetnasch wondered if it was truly wise; she didn't want to see her mother abandoning her love of colourful and beautiful things. The mother and daughter can share their differences, but Benetnasch has learned to respect her mother for her patience revolving around beauty.

Mentally sighing to herself, she got up, put on the dress her mother had set out for her the day before, and climbed downstairs.

"How many times do I need to repeat that to you, young lady? Not above the ankle!" came her mother's irritated voice.

Of course her mother's first words to her on her special day would be to fuss over her manners; at least that hadn't changed.

"I say that every year. I don't understand why I have to wear a formal dress; it's not as if anyone coming hadn't seen me running around with mud over my pants."

"I just want you to look beautiful on your birthday, little dove."

There it is again: the endearment her mother reserved only for her. Only her family from her mother's side would call her by her middle name, Maia, which her mother had given her herself, and because Maia and her sisters were transformed into doves in the stories, she had also come to call her "little dove" in the process. So it seemed that traditions were truly in order.

Traditionally, her father would ring the bells for the villagers to hear, and they would come over to their house, the Vengehenge, bringing gifts with them and calling on the door. Then she would have to greet each of them personally, and there would be a lot of handshaking, kissing, and hugging. This ordeal would last for a whole day.

Because Benetnasch's age barred her from joining high society, the only visitors were villagers, the majority of whom were muggles. All of them had a sustaining respect for the Fawley family, for whom they work, which once founded this village and still governs it.
She supposed it could be oddly satisfying that all the people came for her, and while it would be sweet if nothing else, it was still very exhausting.

She wished she could seek sanctuary with her friend Remus Lupin in times like this. Remus and his family moved to the Fawley village six years ago. Despite being peers by magical descent, at first they were merely acquaintances, as Remus was terribly shy. But then her mother and father began to take her on monthly trips that usually only lasted a day, and rumors of wolves being heard in nearby mountains began to circulate. It wasn't until three years later that Benetnasch realized that each of these trips had a specific date. She had finally put two and two together and decided that the new family contained a werewolf, and her parents were helping to hospitalize it.

She wasn't surprised that they could; their home, the Vengehenge was sandwiched between two mountains, nestled in the narrow valley at their joining point. It contained passageways into the heart of the mountain and its caves, which may very well be able to contain a werewolf at its full moon if the enchantments required are added.

She confronted her parents, who were forced to confirm her doubts, and finally she was led to the werewolf, Remus Lupin. Benetnasch was shocked that it was the boy, and Remus was afraid that his family would have to move again, so it came as a surprise to both of them that a deep friendship blossomed from then on. They had been inseparable ever since.

Unfortunately, Remus couldn't possibly spend the whole day with her; no, she was on her own, as always.

That evening, a surprise came for Benetnasch.

"I have a last present for you."

Her mother came in as Benetnasch was going through her bedtime reading. She presented her with a wrapped scroll.

There was an unreadable expression on her face, like she was keeping her calm composure on purpose, though Benetnasch thought she deciphered some kind of sad but hopeful feeling radiating from her mother.

With slow and careful fingers, she opened the roll to find a painting with almost painfully familiar, clear brushstrokes. Benetnasch brushed her fingers over the work she believed was done by her father, marbling its delicacy and seemed to be hundreds of dark-hooded figures being drawn, and all of them were being drowned out by the small but bright translucency of a mouse.

"Illyius and His Patronus." Benetnasch murmured softly under her breath as the realization dawned on her.

It was her favourite story, which tells of how a wizard who had been ashamed of his mouse patronus overcame his fear and defended his village from hundreds of dementors.

"Yes. It was drawn by your father, and I know he intended to give it to you as a birthday gift this year, so I finished the last touches and indosed it with the potion required. " Her mother was telling Benetnasch.

She looked to her mother with wild eyes, and as if in a silent conversation, she hoped to pass on the weight of her thoughts to her; words failed her at that moment, and she threw her arms around her mother, closing her eyes to inhale her rosy scent.

Something in that moment—her father's painting, her mother's firm grip—mended her heart's fractured places in some way, and she was allowed to feel some semblance of wholeness for the first time in a long time.