QLFC Season 11 Round 2: Are you real or just a dream?
Main prompt: Black tourmaline - Black: Write about protection.
Additional prompts:
1. [Emotion] Happiness
2. [Setting] Cornfield
3. [Spell] Periculum
Word: 2900 (approx)
Beta Reader: Thank you, Pixileanin.
Warning: Foul language (bastard, scum(s), swines, runt).
Dolohov dragged his shackled legs to his chest to grieve his declining mind. With nothing tangible to occupy it, and no way to see the rising sun and setting sun, Dolohov's mind suffered the deafening silence. He almost always felt like dying, yet his cursed fate meant he would never die in his prison cell. His body simply refused to die. Sometimes, he wept his wandering lost mind and fragmented memories, and, in these moments, he would remember the innocence he once possessed. He would remember bits and pieces of the boy who was terrified of the dark and of cornfields. Where had that boy gone? Nobody really knows.
Somewhere along the way, that boy grew into the murderous Antonin Dolohov who did not fear the dark. In fact, Dolohov longed for the darkness. He found comfort and belonging there. He was not afraid of the void and loneliness. He welcomed the silence, and the periodic howlings of despair, cacklings of insanity and ramblings of madness. That was now his norm. Most days, he had learnt to accept his fate - there was little to no hope left amid the blackness of his life. There was nothing to live for yet, his body refused to die. It was as if his body remembered an important unfulfilled promise.
"Food." A bowl was slid lazily into his cell.
Dolohov looked at the meager food in his bowl. "Corn again, you cheap swines?" he sneered. It was always corn since he could remember.
"That's what you always say you wanted! Be glad we even bother to feed you, ungrateful bastard!"
Dolohov looked at the pitiful single corn in his food bowl. He picked it up and stared at it as an amused smile slowly curled on his lips. "Why is it always you?" Dolohov's memories were fragmented. He could not tell reality from fantasy anymore. The lines had blurred and so had his memories. He could never tell reality from fantasy, real memories from daydreams. "Why do I always feel… happy when I see you?"
In a faraway place, in a poor provincial town that was known for its cornfields, there was a dilapidated orphanage. In that wooden building, a six-year-old boy with messy black hair and grey eyes kneeled at the toilet and furiously scrubbed the floors. This boy was Antonin Dolohov.
"I have finished washing the toilets, ma'am! Please, ma'am, can I go out to play now?" a young boy asked excitedly with the widest and silliest grin. His skin was damp with sweat, and his hair stuck to his face. His skin was covered in bruises and welts and his feet were missing shoes. He had spent the whole day cleaning the toilets as punishment for spilling his cereals on the floor.
"Well, run along then, runt! Don't you dare go into the cornfields, and be back before the sun sets, or I'll lock you outside in the cold night!" the matron warned firmly as Antonin ran out of the small orphanage.
Antonin ran to join the other children who were much bigger and older than him. They shoved him around but Antonin remained unyielding. He laughed as he fell on the ground bruised and bleeding. He did not grimace at the pain, when he was having fun playing with the other kids. Antonin gave as good as he got. He was not afraid to fight back even though he was the shortest and smallest child.
Antonin had a fearless, indomitable spirit and he faced everyday with the biggest grin. He was a reckless and wild boy who had dreams that were too big for the poor town. He did not want to be a farmer and take care of the cornfields. No, he wanted to be an adventurer, a sailor, or an archaeologist. He wanted to write the best story ever: the story of Antonin Dolohov the Greatest Adventurer.
As the hour was approaching curfew, the children's last game was hide and seek. Antonin, never one to lose, ran deep into the field to hide. Every stalk stood taller than him, and the tassel hung ominously over him covering the daylight. The small six-year-old boy was certain that he had found the perfect hiding spot! He was definitely winning the game. No one would suspect him of hiding in the forbidden cornfield maze.
As the sun set behind the hills, the children's laughter died down as they hurried back into the orphanage. After all, the children had been told about the wandering ghosts and monsters that lived within the darkness. These ghosts were mean and stole lost children. That was why the matron always warned them to hurry home before the sun completely disappeared behind the hills.
Antonin looked up at the sky and his heart hammered. The sun was gone, and that could only mean that the demons were out and about. Panicked, Antonin ran clumsily through the field searching for an exit. He could not tell North from South, East from West. Everywhere he looked, it was the same. Endless stalks of corn surrounded him, mocking him and trapping him within their field. The great blackness was enveloping him and he felt his eyes watering. Antonin did not feel brave anymore. He was terrified. He hated the darkness. He hated corn! He just wanted to go home.
"HELP!" Antonin screamed, but just how loud could a boy his size and age scream in the endless open cornfields? As fear seized him, coldness set in his veins. For a while, he thought the coldness was within him until he noticed that a thin layer of ice was forming on his skin. He could feel and hear the movements in the air around him. Something was moving, or rather many things were moving. They were black and blended too well with the surrounding darkness. If Antonin was terrified previously, now he was absolutely petrified. Helpless, and unable to control himself, the boy urinated helplessly as he covered his face from the monsters around him. He did not want to hear the haunting sneering whispering in his ear or feel the sickening cold touch of wispy things.
"Please, help me! Help me, please! I'm scared! Please find me! Someone, anyone, help me! I want to go home!"
Just then, a fierce white light swiftly circled him and pushed the ghastly things away from him. It was a cat! The boy looked on and saw the faceless ghastly black creatures banished to nothingness as the white cat floated protectively by his side. A pair of arms gathered him and hugged him tight. "Are you okay, my dear boy?"
Antonin sobbed in her arms. He clung tightly. He did not care who it was. All he knew was that he felt safe now. He felt rescued. Her arms felt like a protective warm cage. "No…" Antonin sobbed as his fingers dug into her shoulders. She stroked his back soothingly until Antonin's sobs quietened. "What… were those… things?" he asked softly as he peeked at his surroundings warily from behind the woman's shoulder.
"Oh! You can see them?" the woman asked curiously as she wiped Antonin's tears away. "My dear boy, you aren't an ordinary boy, are you?"
Antonin tilted his head and looked at the woman. "Am I not supposed to?" he asked softly. He looked down at his bare feet that were covered in dirt and welts. "Please don't tell Matron that I saw things. I don't want to be punished again. Please, I'm begging you. I'll do whatever you-"
"Oh, my dear boy, I won't. I will keep these secrets safe between us," she crooned as she hugged Antonin tightly and soothingly. "You are a very special boy, my son. You have a gift. A very powerful gift."
"Really?" Antonin asked excitedly as his eyes twinkled. He always knew he was just as special as the other children. It was just his misfortune that the matron did not praise him as much as she did the other children.
"Oh, yes, Antonin. You belong to the magical world."
"How do you… know my name?" Antonin asked curiously. "I never told you."
"Magic," she replied easily as she combed Antonin's fringe back. "I have been dreaming of someone like you. Find me at Hogwarts and I shall tell you about every wonderful thing in the world of magic. For now, though, you should know that I will be waiting for you in Hogwarts. If you come, you'll definitely find me."
"What if… I don't make it there? What if the matron doesn't let me go?" Antonin asked as he held tightly onto the arms that saved and protected him from the ghosts and monsters.
"From the moment the stars answered me, your destiny and mine are intertwined. The stars will align for us, Antonin."
The boy looked worried. "What if-"
"You must believe in me and the stars, my dear son. They will guide you to me."
"Son? What does that mean?" Antonin asked, confused. No one had ever called him son. He had been called many names in his life but never son, and never so affectionately.
"I am adopting you, my darling. You'll be my boy, Antonin Dolohov," she answered softly as she held Antonin's small hands gently. "The stars have gifted you to me."
"Really? I am a gift to you?" Antonin asked. He had never been treated so kindly.
"Yes, really. You are a gift promised to me by the stars," she answered kindly. "Until we meet again in Hogwarts, if you're ever afraid, cast this. If you ever feel lonely, cast it. No matter how you feel, no matter where you are, cast it. I'll find you, I promise."
Dazzling red lights burst from a stick and lit the black sky. Antonin watched in awe and amazement. For the first time, he had met someone so amazing who could momentarily chase away the darkness. The ball of white light and now the red lights in the sky were magical. For the young boy who had never seen something so pretty, he felt truly special beside the pretty woman. His mouth opened and he stretched his arms to the sky as if to grab at the red lights.
"Wow! You promise I'll never be alone again?" Antonin whispered hopefully. His grey eyes welled with tears. He was more than happy. He felt welcomed. He felt loved. He felt… he did not have a word to adequately explain the feeling bursting inside him.
"I promise. I'll always be there for you. I'll protect you. Always. You're my son, Antonin," she promised Antonin and patted his head gently. She slipped a bracelet on his small wrist. "This will always keep you safe. It will always tell me where you are."
"Wow!" Antonin whispered as he touched his bracelet. He smiled gratefully. He would keep it safe as if it was his greatest treasure. It was the first time anyone gave him something so pretty. "Will you teach me how to cast red lights, now? Please teach me!" Antonin implored excitedly as he looked up at her admiringly. "What should I call you, ma'am?"
"For now, you should know my name as Minerva," she answered gently as she gazed at the little boy adoringly. "Now, repeat after me. Periculum."
"Mi…ner…va? Peri…culum?" Dolohov murmured as he slowly opened his eyes. The vision was gone. Instead of the corn field and the red lights that lit the black sky, he was staring at a dementor floating on top of him.
He glared fiercely at the creature. He reached up and grabbed at the ghastly being. "You filthy piece of scum. I was so close to remembering everything!" Dolohov hissed furiously. He was just about to remember an important piece, but as usual, the dementors would never let him experience something good. They always interrupted his visions.
"You can keep trying to interrupt my visions but you'll never steal them away. The dream or the memory or... the fantasy is imprinted on my skin. I was six years old." Dolohov sat up with a sly grin as he looked at the shaking dementor in his fist. On his inner wrist was a scar he had branded on himself so that he would always remember the date. 5 April 1958. The date of his adoption. The date he met the most important person, and felt the safest and warmest arms. The day he felt home.
"No matter how many times you and your fellow scums interfere, nothing will stop me. I'll keep dreaming of her until I see her face again," Dolohov snarled. He swore he would search in the deepest corners of his mind for her face. How could he forget her face? She was important! Was she more important than the Dark Lord? Perhaps, or perhaps not, but did it matter? Must he choose one over the other? So many questions, but he had no answers.
The dementor tried to flee as Dolohov's rage began to take on a magical apparition behind him. "You better keep all the memories and the feelings I used to have. One day, I'll find a way to get back all that you've taken away from me. You, and everyone who put me in this hell. Until then, you better keep my memories and the boy I was alive and safe in your bottomless pit." Dolohov tossed the dementor away and watched it flee from him.
"Was it real or just a dream? Who are you, Minerva? Are you real?" Dolohov scratched his head tiredly as he looked at the date on his skin. "What was the spell to summon you, Minerva? Peri...culum? Am I even saying it right? How do I even move the wand? I want to see you again. I need to see you..."
Dolohov sighed heavily. Every sleeping moment, he was bound to dream of the cornfields. Every time he woke up, he felt a burning longing to see her again. He wanted to be in her embrace again. He wanted so many things. After all, that day 5 April 1958 was the day he was reborn. It was the day he learnt he was special… and she was the reason for that. He needed to be by her side again. He needed to ask her why she dreamt of him, and why she chose to adopt him. He needed to feel the safety and protection she had promised him from so long ago. He wanted to come home.
Dolohov shook his head and wiped his tears. He might not remember well. He might not be able to tell reality from fantasy, memories from dreams. He might not truly trust his own memories... but his skin remembers and Dolohov trusts his skin. His eyes, lips and ears may lie but his skin will never lie. His skin remembers everything regardless of how fragmented his brain believes his memories to be. Dolohov might not truly remember the boy he was but his magic and skin never forgot. They would guide him to the woman of the cornfields. They would guide him to recall the spell that set the night sky alight. Only in the darkness, can those red lights shine brightest. So, why would Dolohov fear the dark? He sought out the darkness in hopes to find the brightest red lights or the wandering white cat to guide him to the woman who was most important to him. The woman who was his home.
"Dolohov, come out! It's time to rise again. The Master needs his swords again!" A shout interrupted Dolohov's musing.
Dolohov turned and saw a very short man with thin unkempt hair. "Peter..?" he asked, confused.
Peter Pettigrew threw Dolohov's wand and belongings to him. Outside, in the corridors of Azkaban, a few of his fellow Death Eaters had come out of their cells laughing. One of them was the crying banshee, Bellatrix Lestrange.
"Wakey-wakey, you Russian bastard!" Bellatrix chortled as she destroyed the metal bars of Dolohov's cell.
Dolohov looked at Bellatrix and sighed. It was time to fight again. There was no time to feel sorry for himself until the war was over. Minerva, Periculum and the cornfields needed to wait. He looked at his wand and a black stone bracelet. As soon as he slipped on the bracelet, his thin lips curled into an amused smile.
"Oh?" Dolohov chuckled lightly as he felt warmth emanating from the stones. No doubt that there was a powerful protection charm around the tourmaline stones. "Thank you for looking out for me, Minerva. Wait a little longer, this boy is coming home. He will find his way to you... one way or another."
Far away in the Scotland Highlands, behind the powerful magical castle walls of Hogwarts, a woman jolted awake. She climbed out of her bed and padded to the window. She looked up at the sky and cast Periculum. She watched red lights lighting up the black sky. "Come home to me, my son. Fourteen years, you've been locked away. Do you still see the sky and the red lights the same way I do?" Minerva McGonagall whispered to herself.
When the dazzling red lights faded away, she sent her cat patronus to warn the Headmaster. "My son is free. Antonin Dolohov has broken out of Azkaban. Azkaban's gates have been broken!"
Thank you for reading.