Hogwarts Part Fourteen

If it wasn't strange enough going back in time through the Pensieve to see Riddle as an eleven year-old boy at Wool's Orphanage, now you get to see your own past. The news may hit you as strange, but every ounce of it is purely true"”not to mention difficult to take in. Your history wasn't revealed to you until now.

If you'll be able to tell the guys about this, or even Ginny and Hermione, who knows? Is it even necessary? Never mind, it's understandably something hard to take in such a short amount of time. Hopefully Dumbledore won't mind the fact that you walked out. He knows more than you think.

Created by: HogwartsLove
  1. *Thanks again to EVERYONE! @_ViolaLover_, too, for my brain went bad and I forgot to give her a shout-out. Anyways, again, try to not get confused, but I can answer any questions you have in the comments. Suggestions are always welcome, and you can email me, as always, at HogwartsLoveQuizzes@gmail(.)com without the parentheses. Attempt to enjoy, LOL.
  2. "F-for me?" you repeated, fumbling with your fingers and glancing nervously around the large office. Dumbledore proceeded to pour the substance from the small vile into the Pensieve. "I take it you'll want to go alone," he said. You furrowed your eyebrows and looked into the bowl but nonetheless you nodded. "Go on," he ordered, and for a second time that night you ducked your head down into the shallow bowl. Again you felt amidst nothing, in between two places. You refused to panic, wondering how to get back, and proceeded to wait for whatever location and time the memory was going to take you. 
  3. A summer breeze hit you as it flew in through the window, and you shivered before it passed and the sun beamed directly onto your skin. A group of adult wizards and witches sat before you, discussing something. They didn't notice your arrival, of course. But the house you were in was eerily familiar. "Mister Ollivander disappears and you think there's nothing to worry about?" shouted a woman who looked like she had seen so much she'd aged quickly. Her thick, shoulder-length brown hair was tamed only by a wide black headband. "I'll agree that this is a concerning issue," said a young man with an exhausted voice. His light brown hair was blotched with streaks of grey and he ran his fingers through it. The shabby clothing he wore was patched in several places, and you were sure he was often mistaken for being homeless, due to that and his unhealthy, lethargic state. "Remus Lupin..." you whispered under your breath, recalling the third-year Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. "But our main concern right now should be Harry," he continued, and a shabby man on the other end of the table held up his glass in agreement. "James is first," the unshaven, well-built man smiled"”Sirius. Mrs. Weasley, whom you'd never seen so vicious, threw a knife into the table. "Harry is not James!"
  4. It went silent. Their mouths were still moving, and they appeared flustered, angry, some, but it went silent, mute in your ears. Then, again, the scene faded and suddenly you were in the middle of a battlefield. Your heart beat faster, despite the fact that you knew no one could touch you in a memory. Your breath caught short as a spell went past you, inches away from your body, and hit the precisely targeted Death Eater. You turned swiftly to see who had cast the incantation. You were greeted by the woman you'd seen moments ago in the house with Remus and Sirius. The one with the headband. "Nice one, Emmeline!" a man shouted from a few yards away as he dueled off another Death Eater. Your head shot back. Emmeline Vance? "Avada Kedavra!" You'd heard that spell too many times not to know what it meant. "Emmeline!" you screamed hopelessly, as a flash of green struck the witch and she fell, lifeless, to the ground. 
  5. "No." You could only muster the single word as you surfaced, heart beating obnoxiously in your ears. "Why did I see that?" you asked Albus, turning to him. It irritated you that he stood so calmly; he had just let you see someone die and acted as if nothing out of the ordinary, even for a wizard, had happened. He looked down. "Emmeline Vance was an important member of the Order. Her death was a heavy blow to us all, and I still grieve for her. To think this happened only months ago..." "Where did these memories come from? Whose are they?" you continued frantically, breathlessly. Death wasn't your favorite sight. "Remus provided me with them, and I wish for you to understand this next memory." "I don't want to see any more," you told him, shaking your head. He ignored you and proceeded to pour another memory into the Pensieve. "Go on..." he said softly. Your trust for Dumbledore was immense, and though he was currently getting on your nerves, you plunged again into the past. "This one is a jumble of several events," you heard before you were gone.
  6. A fire was burning in the hearth, and a couch sat directly in front of it. The walls were lined with innumerable photos of a familiar looking girl and a small table was by the furniture. "She's not going to that freak of a school," a stern but hoarse voice muttered. It came from a woman standing with her back to you, leaning against the wall. When she turned, you saw mascara and eyeliner running down her wrinkled face. Lines showed how quickly she'd aged in a short amount of time, and her bones stuck out in a jagged manner. She was extremely thin, and seemed as if she hadn't seen daylight in months. "If you loved her, you'd let her go," came another voice, this one more stable and demanding.
  7. Your breath caught for a second time as you turned to see Emmeline again, standing and facing the other woman very directly and stubbornly holding her ground. "She's not going, because I don't want my daughter turning out to be like you," said the first, not looking Vance in the eyes. Emmeline threw the glass she'd been holding at the ground angrily, and it shattered loudly, splitting into hundreds of tiny pieces. "Like me? You don't want ________ to turn out like me? It would be better than her turning out to be like her weak mother!"
  8. "Don't say that," your mother ordered through clenched teeth, nervously running her fingers through her hair. The bags under her eyes were more apparent as she walked nonchalantly closer to the fire and stared into the flames. "Don't say what? Don't say how you left him? The one man who cared, and you left him!" Emmeline shouted. "Damn it, Emmeline!" your mum cursed loudly. "She'll grow up without a father!" "He was a freak like you and the rest of the lot! One of those bloody goddamn magical freak shows with a stick of wood shouting rhymes and poems and whatnot! And I'm her mother, so she's not going to Pigmoles or whatever!" "It's Hogwarts," Emmeline corrected her, frustrated. "And she'd be more dangerous if she didn't go! She needs to learn how to control her bloody magic!" "No, she needs to learn not to use magic, because she's normal!" your mother persisted. "She isn't normal," Emmeline responded softly. "She's going to help us when she gets older. She's going to help fight. Because she's stronger than you. She's stronger than you'll ever be." 
  9. The image before you twisted, but when the contorting stopped, you were still inside the house. The only difference was that no one was there, at least not to your knowledge. You stepped towards the wall breathlessly and touched the picture in front of you: your mother with you sitting in her lap, laughing. But your father... "Hurry now, lass, hurry up," a wheezy voice came. An old man with silvery hair topped with a stupid-looking purple hat came down the staircase. Behind him was you, at eleven, tugging a suit case down with you. "Um... Where are we going, sir?" the younger you asked. "Someplace without your horrid excuse of a mother," grumbled Emmeline as she came down and helped you with your baggage. You watched the scene curiously, not really able to recall any of it. Your mum came tumbling down, grabbing your ankles in an awkward, uncomfortable looking position seeing as she was sprawled across several stairs. "You're not leaving," she grumbled. Both the young you and the present you pulled your noses up"”the smell of alcohol was heavy on your mother's breath, and emitted greatly.  
  10. "Get off my niece," Emmeline sneered, smacking your mother's hand harshly. "She's  my daughter," your mum argued. "Not any more, she's not." "But she's got my blood, she's-" "Bloodlines have nothing to do with true family," Emmeline continued. "Let's go, ________, Doge." The old man with the wheezy voice and stupid hat gently took your hand and reached for the door knob. For a third time the scene deteriorated, and now you found yourself, the younger you, Emmeline, and the apparent Doge at the Hogwarts Express. "I don't understand-" the young you started, but Emmeline pulled you into a quick hug. "Obliviate." 
  11. You were back in Dumbledore's office, panting and holding tightly onto the Pensieve for dear life. Your heart dropped. That was the reason you had nowhere to go this Christmas. The reason you couldn't remember your mum, or most of your past for that matter. It was the reason that you always felt hopeless and at times unwanted in an abnormal way, not the regular teenage insecure type of way. "That's why, then," you said softly. Dumbledore cocked his head in question, but you grabbed your wand and swiftly started for the door to his office, not bothering to be dismissed, your robes fluttering at your feet and your heart below sea level. You felt as weak as your mother.

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