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I very quickly figured out what my third sacrifice had been.

The loss of control and agency I have now that Tonks can literally pluck my thoughts out of my head as I have them - it's a sacrifice I am willing to make - but it's not one I'm necessarily happy about.

No matter how many eye rolls and ‘ickle baby raven’ comments I got, I managed to get Tonks to experiment with our connection, to see how far it stretches.

I've managed to confirm several hypotheses I had upon realizing we had this connection.

For one, Tonks can speak into my mind from wherever she is, at least within the distances we're able to traverse inside Hogwarts and it's grounds - I don't find it unlikely that this will continue even when she leaves Hogwarts - which will be a pretty strong boon for me.

Well, depending on things, it could also be a detriment, Tonks has definitely only been using it to tease me for now, although I have a suspicion she's trying to distract me from the painful aftereffects of the ritual.

Of course, another effect of this is that it will also allow me to continue being her rock, ensuring she doesn't backslide mentally. Being able to chat with her whenever she reaches out, no matter where she is, could only be helpful there.

Unfortunately, I can only speak to her when she's already speaking to me. The contact is always initiated from her end. I don't have access to her mind, she has access to mine. When she's close by, I can sometimes feel what she is projecting however.

On that revelation, and with Tonks permission, I had probed her with Legilimency, and to my utter relief, discovered that for whatever reason, whatever division kept my old memories (those I still remember…) apart and unassailable - also now kept those same memories locked away in her mind.

I have no idea how that works, other than magic.

Rituals are bullshit like that.

The likes of Quirrell can't just plunder Tonks’ mind for all my secrets - which had been my first worry, and it would benefit Tonks in her career too, making her mind more unassailable - which could only be good, because her mind constantly projected to me since the ritual, her openness absolutely ridiculous.

So I can't read her mind, just feel some of what she feels.

Likewise, my mind is not a open book to Tonks, she can't reach into me and just read my life, she can easily pick up on my surface thoughts, but she has to concentrate and work at it to get anymore then brief imprints - and even then, it's not exactly Legilimency, she simply can't search through my mind hunting for information.

As I've already found out, it's easy enough to make me think of something if she wants the information though. Tonks delights in making inappropriate comments, especially regarding herself, and then giggles and jokes around as she takes in the places my mind goes.

Overgrown child… But it's better than she was, so I grin and bear it. It's not like she's really being a pain with this newfound situation, she's just using it to tease me a little.

Her being able to read my emotions, surface thoughts and feelings get muted the further away she is from me to an extent. While she can still communicate with me telepathically if she so chooses - she can't as easily get anything else if she's at the other side of Hogwarts.

Fleeting thoughts, a brief spike of a feeling, she says it's more muffled and unclear with distance.

Except particularly strong emotions and feelings shine through no matter what.

When she's connected to me, I feel her stronger as well. Something she was quick to test out in her dorm room. She really has no shame. This happened on the same night she claimed she was my sister too.

Puberty… Is going to be a bitch…

Something for future me to figure out. Current me has his own problems.

For one, I'm still in constant pain. I keep telling myself it wasn't my body, it's physically impossible for me to feel this way. But magic doesn't care about such pitiful things as logic or flesh. It's a consequence of a ritual, not one easy to shake off, I can't make it go away, so I just take it and try and move on.

The physical pain is at least now beginning to dull, several days later. Dull, but not disappearing.

The shame, guilt and self hatred that emanated through the memories I took them away from - aren't so easily dislodged either.

Sleep has been…

Difficult.

Nightmares are a constant, reliving the moments…

I am noticeably paler and have bags under my eyes even after only a few days, potions haven't helped. All this has led to my friends starting to do things like carrying my bag for me, bringing me snacks, cuddling up on some of the common room couches to try and help me nap.

To no avail unfortunately, but I love them for their attempts.

Honestly, I have no idea what I've done to deserve 11-12 year olds being this nice and compassionate. We're all such Hufflepuffs…

Tonks of course is a proper mother hen now, when she isn't teasing me outrageously of course. She knows what I've gone through, she can't feel the pain from the memories anymore - but she knows them, logically knows how hard and painful it all would be - and knows I took it on me.

So she's barely left my side, and would have probably followed me into first year classes if she could find a way to get past the Professors.

The fact she can feel my emotions and skim my thoughts, makes for one impossible to avoid big sister figure.

She's taking the big sister thing way too seriously too. I'm still not sure I'm comfortable with going with the Tonkses, it feels too much like I'm intruding.

“Tempus.” I mutter, cursing under my breath as I note the time.

I run a hand through my hair, it is time to face the music.

I've managed to avoid her for two days, it was time to figure out just how pissed she was.

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Hogwarts library, Wednesday morning, before classes.

Clever as I am, I'd chosen the library as the place where I would face the wrath of Hermione Granger - especially knowing she couldn't spend too much time lambasting me as classes would begin within the hour.

With the sanctity of books around me, surely she wouldn't hex me too badly?

I mean I know I can outduel her, but it would be rude to beat her up when coming to apologize for randomly stunning her and leaving her in a hallway.

Considering the shit that could happen at Hogwarts, it was actually really shitty of me to do that.

I would still do it again.

But it didn't make it any less shitty.

Tonks of course is coming along, having picked my reluctance to face the Hogwarts bookworm out of my head, and followed along as backup in case the scary first year Gryffindor would make me cry.

Having her in my head is definitely something that's going to take a while to get used to…

“You know you love it~” She teases me, jostling my shoulder as we walk into the library side by side. “All you can think about is me, it's kind of flattering…”

I give her a dirty look, “You're purposely doing things to make me pay attention, in no way is my mind occupied by you, Tonks.”

Except for thinking about how annoying you are, I think at her purposefully. Not really meaning it, and she of course picks that up, just grinning warmly at me.

As I spot Hermione sitting at a study table, she spots me at the same time, and no word of a lie, I can literally see her hair puffing up in indignation, as her eyes fix me with a glare.

I hide a wince as I step forward, having to disguise it as I almost stumble, wracked with pain suddenly.

Tonks arms steadies me, as she continues on like nothing happened, to my relief.

“You'd think you did something a lot worse than a stunning spell with the way she's eying you.” Tonks says with some bemusement, waving at the Gryffindor, who waves back to Tonks without once taking her eyes off my approach. Thankfully she makes no mention of my brief stumble, and Tonks is leaving it alone too, the last thing I need right now is to talk about my nightmares and the pain.

I took it away from Tonks so she wouldn't have to deal with it anymore, I can handle it. She squeezes my arm at that, although nothing shows on her face.

“I made her drop her books.” I say, in a sort of resigned amusement of my own, continuing on with what we're talking about, leaving the rest unsaid.

Tonks chortles, although it's a bit weak, shaking her head, “Ravenclaws… I have no idea what the hat is on to send the two biggest Ravens I've ever seen into Gryffindor and Hufflepuff!”

We were close enough now for Hermione to hear that last part, and her glare now encompassed Tonks as well, “You can't speak about one of the founder's artifacts like that!” She hisses out, mindful of keeping it down due to their location.

“The sorting hat has probably seen Dumbledore naked, a bit of quirkiness is expected.” I say, shrugging my shoulders.

Tonks stifles a laugh at that, covering her mouth, even as Hermione gasps in outrage, “Lucas Greenwood are you trying to make me shout in the library!” She says very rapidly, eyes narrowing at my absolutely unapologetic face.

“I'm not sorry about that one, I am sorry for stunning you though.” I say, honestly feeling bad for just randomly stunning her, at least randomly from her point of view.

She huffs, glaring at me some more, “That's all I'm going to get isn't it?” She asks, wrinkling her nose.

“As opposed to?” I ask, looking at her confused, “I'm dirt poor, so if you're expecting weregild or something I'm afraid I can't help.”

Hermione rolls her eyes dramatically, “Merlin, you're such a boy.” She gives me a disgruntled look, “You can barely call that an apology, and you didn't even say why you stunned me!”

“That's on a need to know basis, sorry.” I tell her, Tonks watching our conversation with the expression of an elder seeing something very silly.

Hermione locks onto my gaze with a heavy one of her own, “I need to know, if anyone is need to know about why you stunned me, it's me!”

“Sorry, I'm afraid who needs to know is also on a need to know basis.” Okay, so at this point I'm just messing with her, but I can't help it, she's adorable, not at all the scary monster I'd feared when I entered.

Tonks has to walk away from the table for a moment, erupting into a fit of giggles, no doubt plucking that right out of my head.

Hermione just sighs, dropping it, no doubt seeing a lost cause, and already smarter than her canon self - she didn't fight the losing battle.

“Harry is right, you are more trouble than it's worth some days.” She grumbles under her breath.

I think about asking what that's about, but having achieved what I needed - apologizing without being set on fire, I beat a hasty retreat. “Class and all that you know, Hermione, see you later.” I call out, drawing a grumble out of the girl for being so loud.

Tonks follows me, her lips twitching, “Why did you have a picture in your mind of a troll with bushy hair?” She teases me.

I glance at her, “It could have happened, she has a temper, you know…” I defend myself.

Although perhaps I haven't been giving her enough credit… She wasn't nearly as neurotic as in canon, the fact Harry and Ron wasn't constantly trying to suicide, dragging her along, probably helping keep her more stable.

Tonks nods sagely, “I suppose it's better than you imagining girls in their knickers.” She muses out loud.

My face grows hot, as I glare at her, “You did that on purpose.” I growl.

Everytime I start having pain, she pulls something like it.

“Yep!” She says, popping the P. “At least I'm glad it's me you're thinking of and not the ickle firstie.” The smugness in her tone is ridiculous considering I'm also an ickle firstie.

Technically.

“Just leave me alone.” I groan, walking towards my first class, even if it's still plenty of time until it starts.

At least in class Tonks can't follow me.

Although I wonder what on earth I've done to have Harry think I'm trouble.

I think back to the year so far…

Okay, fair enough.

I could see it.

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Hogwarts, Wednesday afternoon,

“So you're Tonks brother now?” Susan asks curiously, as us Hufflepuffs hang around the common room.

It's fairly quiet, most of the older years fully focused on their studies. Except Tonks.

I side eye her, already having a feeling that come NEWT time, I'm going to be answering a lot of questions telepathically.

Then I realize that Susan had said that like it is common knowledge now…

I glare at Tonks, who is grinning cheekily at me, “I see word spreads fast, and no, I'm not anyone's anything at this moment…” I say strongly, ignoring Tonks' disbelieving snort.

Neville frowns, looking confused, looking between us, “But she's already told everyone you're her little brother.” He points out.

I slam my head down on the table we're sitting at, “Tonks, why do you hate me?” Like I need more attention drawn to me right now, especially with Quirrell back. Being adopted by a Black, is not something I want to spread around…

The Muggleborns in the castle were going to be an absolute pain over this, I could just feel it. They'd gloss completely over the whole married a Muggleborn and got tossed out of the Black family part - focusing only on what they want out of it, me being adopted by someone born with the name Black. The purebloodest of purebloods.

Likewise, the purebloods would be pissed that I am joining a blood traitor family, betraying their culture. All of it a load of tosh, but one I could see these dumb kids internalize and then use to hassle me.

“I don't hate you, I luuurve you, little brother!” Tonks says exaggeratedly, moving over to throw her arm around my shoulder, hugging me to her side, “See we look exactly alike,” She says, morphing to a black haired pale version of herself to match me.

Which… Just makes her look like a Black. Tonks, you're so not helping! I think with annoyance clear in my thoughts.

I glare down at my hand as it briefly twitches, a brief flare of pain rushing through my nerves, fucking knock it off, I think at my body, clenching my hand into a fist, Tonks squeezing me tighter against her, her warmth soothing even as I feel embarrassed for having failed in hiding the pain again.

“The rumor mill will have you as a long lost Black before the end of the day.” Hannah whispers in horrified fascination watching the two of us.

“I'm not a Black.” I grit out, twitching slightly with the wish to draw my wand and practice Obliviation with all my friends.

And then everyone in the castle.

Is it too much like a Dark Lord to want to mind wipe the entirety of Britain?

From the brief swat on my arm from Tonks, it might be.

Later… Pettigrew doesn't need memories anyway - and he's an acceptable target.

Tonks chuckles darkly at my side, having done her own training on their captured Death Eater, at the rate she is going, she is going to face some very uncomfortable questions when entering the Auror Academy.

“Don't jinx me, Lucas.” Tonks says, pulling on my cheek, confusing everyone else around the table.

“Sister and brother stuff, secret language and everything.” Tonks says, seeing everyone's looks, and giving an absolutely pathetic excuse.

“A secret language, you've been siblings for what? A day?” Susan asks skeptically. Considering the smile that keeps reappearing on her face, she finds it charming instead of stupid, like anyone should think after that ridiculous explanation.

Ow!

You don't have to pinch my cheek harder!?

Tonks gives me a sweet look, Stop thinking stupid things then. She informs me, right into my head.

I inwardly grumble at the unfairness of it all, before focusing back on our friends. “Again, we're not actually siblings, although I was offered the option, it isn't that easy…”

And it really wasn't, Andromeda and Ted had shown they were the parents of Tonks - that her ridiculousness had been genetic, marching right ahead with the idea, no thoughts at all as to if they should.

You'd think Andromeda would have wanted to avoid the hassle of getting involved with the Ministry.

Tonks had received an owl yesterday about the matter. It wouldn't be resolved by the summer with how many names were thrown in once it circulated around the ministry that I was being adopted.

Luckily it was unlikely I would be tossed into the Malfoy family or something, due to Andromeda being a Pureblood, her ‘claim’ on me, had ultimate power since she'd offered first.

If she'd been a half blood or Muggleborn, she'd have lost the right to whatever family paid the most to get at me.

With the feeding frenzy I was a bit surprised no one had tried it before, but perhaps they were all waiting for the summer.

Either way, with so many families getting their names involved, for the fun of it in some cases it seemed, I'd likely still need to go back to the orphanage in the summer, at least for a bit.

Although Andromeda was doing what she could to expedite the process, her family was throwing enough of a stink it was all going to be bogged down in procedures until they had no more hurdles to toss in the way.

The Black family barely had surviving members, but whoever was still around evidently had enough gold to throw around to complicate everything.

“I say we're siblings, so we are.” Tonks says with surety, arm still around me, giving my friends a challenging stare that dares them to disagree.

“Congratulations.” Neville says slowly, looking at me like he feels nothing but pity for me.

“Does that mean you're going to rein Lucas in now, Tonks?” Hannah asks with a mischievous smile, giving me a uppity little look afterwards.

“The fuck are you saying?” I begin, before Tonks starts giving me a noogie, making me splutter out a protest.

“Yep, I'll keep him in line.” She says with a cheerful grin, ignoring my protests.

The skeptical looks they all have are rude, if anything I'm keeping Tonks in line.

Probably not what I should have been thinking with her right by me.

The knuckles grinding into my head intensify in pressure.

Well, it's true! I think, refusing to give up.

The rest of the year is going to be a long one…

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Knockturn Alley, the Wilting Hag, Thursday night.

Ophelia looked around her with distaste, face hidden behind the cowl of her cloak. The Wilting Hag tavern exuded an aura of darkness, shadows flickering strangely beneath the dim, flickering light of ancient oil lamps. The wooden floorboards creaked ominously under her feet and the walls were adorned with what appeared to be actual muggle bones. Charming, she thought with scorn.

Like digging up some graves would lend the locale some gravitas… Scum was scum, no matter how they tended to puff up their feathers to appear as something they were not.

The tavern itself was in a hidden basement of an oft used apothecary in Knockturn Alley, and therefore managed to avoid scrutiny from law enforcement.

It was well warded, Ophelia wouldn't have found it if not directed directly to it. Nor would she have been allowed to enter without the password.

They were still scum, the detritus of the magical world. But they were at least well protected scum.

“We shouldn't be here…” Igor Karkaroff muttered, his face sunken and pale, eyes nervously flickering her way, as she ignored him, striding forward, the Death Eater following her like a servant, knowing his own place now.

After several lessons.

Despite herself, she'd almost come to enjoy giving them out.

Only the flash of Tonks face in her memories, keeping her from totally succumbing to her wish of just eradicating the pest.

She would not become a thug. She would not murder just anyone without cause. She'd be forced to do it for her mission, no doubt.

There was no need to sink to becoming the same as these… Beasts.

Ophelia walked right by two vampires, females, unnaturally graceful and elegant, both competing for the attention of a richly dressed patron, who'd likely stolen the clothes, considering the state of his hair and skin. If he had any intelligence, he'd wonder what such elegant and beautiful women were doing, wasting time with him.

But if he had intelligence, they likely wouldn't have bothered with him at all.

Vampires were on a short leash in Britain, only able to move in places as this.

Something was going to get sucked, and the fool would be lucky if he got to enjoy one way before they enjoyed their way.

One less fool in the world wasn't a great loss.

“I'm not supposed to leave my post.” Igor insisted quietly, forced to follow, but still holding enough will to speak up in opposition at times. Even if he lacked the backbone to put words into actions.

She couldn't trust him to stay behind, he'd likely attempt to flee, or trap her on her return.

Ophelia glanced back at the worm with a wroth look, “Maybe some time without your tongue will convince you to be quiet?” She questioned haughtily.

Igor shrank back, hatred clear in his visage, his slimy appearance looking worse for wear these days. But notably, he did fall silent, trailing behind Ophelia subserviently.

There weren't many patrons in attendance today, from what Igor had told her there never was. The place was only ever visited by either dark creatures, or those that wished to lower themselves to that level.

Which made it a curious meeting place to summon her to. The note she'd received only mentioned the time and place - no sign of who might have been the sender.

Except they managed to achieve the feat of delivering said note through her wards, onto her pillow, while she lay sleeping. A statement in itself.

If I wanted to kill you, I could have.

It was obviously not Igor's doing, he wouldn't have left it at just a note. He'd already made his lustful desires very clear after all. Hence why she needed to punish him so often.

She found herself a table in the back, one with good enough sight of the entrance and the kitchen, seating herself without preamble, sweeping for listening charms as a matter of course, and immediately disabling three.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Such a thing was common for these kinds of places apparently, hence why she checked.

“This is a bad idea…” Igor muttered, going to take a seat with her.

Ophelia fixed him with a glare, “You can kneel at my side, servants who can't obey, do not get to sit like an equal.”

Igor shrank back, not immediately obeying, but within seconds, facing her thunderous scowling face, he did as she bid, numerous Crucio had taught him that much, if not to keep his opinions to himself.

“Heh, that's a good way to handle Karkaroff.” A voice said from the seat next to her!

Ophelia shot up, her wand aimed at the cloaked figure who'd seated himself next to her without notice. Or had been there the entire time.

She wasn't sure which she prefered…

“Who are you!?” She demanded, one of the unforgivables ready to let loose, she'd had plenty of practice lately.

“Heh, we don't do names here girl, Karkaroff should have told you as much, the sniveling coward he is…” The hulking figure said a trace of amusement in his voice. “You've been sent to me to do a task, you may call me Obelisk.”

“What is the task…” She asked coldly, having no interest in prying further, even if she was given a great deal of leeway with Karkaroff, it did not mean the same with the rest of his ilk. As she was still under judgment, she could not afford to appear too curious.

“Heh, a real go-getter huh, wouldn't have thought it of ya.” The man said, Karkaroff staring at them both with fear in his eyes. To Ophelia's chagrin, he seemed more fearful of Obelisk than her.

“Heh, well, let's see what you can do lass…If you're sure…?” The man's chuckles grew ominous as he asked her that.

Ophelia grit her teeth, well aware she had no choice but to do whatever it took to gain entrance into the Death Eaters.

“Try me.” She ground out, hatefully.

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Undercroft, shortly after midnight, Friday night.

Tonks worriedly flits about as I get comfortable in one of the armchairs, a large mirror placed in front of me to assist me in the inadvisable magic that is self Legilimency.

Luckily I excel at succeeding at the inadvisable.

With the ritual having boosted my expertise in the practice, I feel I have enough of a grasp on it to attempt to push through my obliviations, despite advice to the contrary from Ominis.

I still had some serious words for him, the absolute snake, had locked the library again once I'd succeeded.

You'd think the fact I proved I could do it would be enough, but if anything, Ominis seemed to have found my success as nothing more than a fluke, and refused me access again.

Tonks isn't exactly thrilled about any of it either, but with her here and able to somewhat feel and read my thoughts, she should be able to pull me out of if I get stuck, if by nothing else shocking my system enough to pull me out of my head.

Now that she's more stable, she's strangely reluctant to use magic on me, but she will if it's absolutely necessary.

Some of it, I feel… Is because of the pain that still randomly wracks me.

I'm hoping it will settle soon.

Perhaps this self reflection will assist in that?

“Are you sure about this Lucas, what if it goes wrong?” Tonks finally asks, gnawing at her lip as she continues to flit about, filled with nervous energy.

Mind magic has a dangerous reputation in the magical world, and Tonks isn't able to assist me, almost no one at Hogwarts is capable. And definitely no one I could trust.

So it has to be this way.

I meet her eyes, my own deadly serious, “My mind is the only thing I can count on, I can't let something hide from me, I need to do this.” My lips curl into an honest smile, “Besides, I have you looking out for me, I'll be fine.”

Tonks huffs, blowing her cheeks out, “Compliments won't make me happy about this, you know? I still think it's too risky.” She steps closer, ruffling my hair, “But I suppose you know this kind of stuff, so I'll have your back.”

I already silenced the portraits, to keep distractions down, due to Sebastian's flirting with Tonks, and Ominis continuous warnings about how I shouldn't meddle with the things I am.

Easy for him to say since he isn't going to suffer any of the consequences of leaving things be.

Must be nice to simply give ominous warnings and never have to worry about the consequences.

“I'm ready, don't pull me out unless you're certain it's necessary.” I warn Tonks, smiling a little as she comes behind me, resting her cheek on my head, as her hands rest easily on my shoulders.

It's with that picture showing in the mirror, that I draw my wand and focus on my own eyes, determination shining through, “Legilimens!”

…

Unlike every time I've plundered Pettigrew’s mind, this time it's different, perhaps because it's my own. But even for that, something is… Off.

Instead of thousands of memories appearing in the distance like distant stars, I feel and see nothing but whiteness around me, in a hazy mist, before things become clearer, slowly…

I find myself standing in a dense, misty forest, looking down in surprise at my own representation, my old body, a body I couldn't even remember. Yet, something tickles my memories now…

It's faint, more like the outline of a ghost than anything, but it's definitely not the body of an almost 12 year old.

The air is thick with mystery and has the weight of hidden truths, I can almost feel it, like a storybook come alive - this is not how minds are supposed to work! I think, baffled by the experience. Is this because of the ritual? Because of my connection with divination, my bargain with fate?

I don't know. All I can do is move forward to search for my lost memories, from my old life - and those stolen from me through Obliviations.

The trees around me that I can spot through the mist, are twisted and gnarled, their branches reaching out like bony fingers, as if trying to snatch at me.

Not, I think, a good sign in general.

As I take my first tentative steps forward, the crunch of leaves and twigs beneath my feet echo through the stillness - feeling real, despite only being memories of sounds. The mist swirls around me in a mix of gray and white, obscuring my view of the path ahead, but also serving to heighten my senses, making me acutely aware of every movement and sound.

As I walk, brushing past branches, I get flashes of memories, brushing past them as I do, as they are not the ones I'm looking for, the memories suffused into the gnarled branches, nothing but common everyday memories.

The mist seems to be getting thicker, making it difficult to see more than a few feet in front of me, the bombardment of memories slowing down as I brush against the trees less and less, my path forward walked on blind faith.

Suddenly, a faint glimmer catches my eye - drawing my attention as it is the only deviation from this mindscape I've seen for I don't know how long - time seems immaterial here, I have no idea how long it's been already.

I trust Tonks to pull me out if it's too long.

I make my way towards the glimmer of light, confident my own mind won't trap me, even if it's acting in an unusual manner - because proper Occlumency should have the void, not a representation like this. As I approach, I see that it's a small shimmering pond, nestled in a clearing, the mist dispersing slightly to allow me the view in a way that seems very intentional. The water is crystal clear, and I approach it, guessing that with all the divination possible through the medium of water - this representation will help me discover things about myself.

I kneel before the pond, watching my reflection, it's… disturbing to see. My face is blank, I don't have eyes, yet I see…

My memories from before are hidden from me due to my own foolish bumbling, I can't remember exactly what I looked like. My eyes, or at least, my vision - stares down at the pond, thoughtfully.

Was this the representation of the Occlumency crafted void that separates my mind into two halves, hiding my old life from even myself?

I haven't come this far to simply hesitate now. If it acts anything like a pensive… I reach forward, staring into the shimmering surface, as the tip of my finger touches it.

A freckled face, twin pigtails of dirty blonde hair, serious eyes that seemed to change color if he focused too hard, a girl, no more than perhaps 11-12 sitting on a bench, wincing as an older boy with dark hair bandaged her hand.

He… Felt love, concern, connection… He felt like…

“ **** You shouldn't get into fights, leave that nonsense to the boys.” He cautioned her, with fond exasperation, giving her knuckles a quick kiss.

She rolled her eyes, pretending they weren't shiny with unshed tears, “I have to, if no one stands up to bullies they get away with it!”

He shook his head, a wry smile on his face, “And it has to be you, ****?”

She got a stubborn look on her face, jaw jutting out, “I didn't see anyone else doing anything.” She said sharply, eyes shining with righteousness.

He chuckled, finishing the bandages, “I suppose I can't complain about the fact my little sister is a warrior of justice, eh?” He joked, ruffling her hair.

“Hey, not the hair!” She protested, although the grin on her face showed she didn't mind it as much as she claimed.

…

My vision swims with memories, filling in some of the blanks, my sister… How… I had a sister, how did I forget my sister! Why couldn't I remember her name!

More, I need more!

He wore a groove in the floor, walking back and forth, his body language full of worry and anger.

The door opened, the same girl sneaking in, wearing ripped jeans and a tank top, a ratty pink backpack slung over her shoulder, her hair cut short, just above her shoulders, parts of it colored pink and green. She freezes in place seeing him standing there.

“Uh, bro, what are you doing up?” She asked sheepishly.

He threw his hands in the air, glaring at her, “What am I doing up? What are you doing out?”

She opened her mouth, and he interrupted the lie she'd no doubt speak, “Don't bother, I already got a call from the police, spray painting, vandalism, really, ****?”

She crossed her arms, wrinkling her nose, a stubborn look on her face, one he was so used to seeing. “They had it coming, they tested their shit on animals, I did nothing wrong!”

His shoulders slumped, “You know I agree with you, you know I love how much you care about everyone and everything, but this… This will give you a criminal record ****!?”

She shrugged, “I'll do the right thing to help people or animals, if it's illegal then the cops are wrong!”

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, the young girl surprised for a moment, before she melted into the arms, “What am I going to do with you?” He murmured, “What am I going to tell our parental units?”

She snorted, burying her head in his chest, “Oh, are they here this week?”

“I am vastly under qualified to raise you, ****.” He said with a deep sigh, kissing the top of her head.

“You do alright.” She said, patting him on the back awkwardly.

“The police are literally looking for you…” He pointed out dryly.

“So you're saying it's your fault for raising me wrong?” She said cheekily, looking up at him with an innocent expression.

“Oh you're on now brat!” He said, wrestling her down, finding her sides and the weak spot she held there.

I felt more memories returning, I… Wrestled and tickled my sister often apparently, because she was a complete brat… And too good for the world apparently, always looking out for others. Which meant it had been my job to look out for her…

Shit…

And here I am in a completely different world, good job I'm doing…

…

A voice calling out in absolute certainty, “I'm going to change the world, you watch me, I'll save people!”

“Hey, can you… Come bail me out? I promise I did nothing wrong, it was just a protest!”

A hand holding a diploma, “Top of the class, eh, what do you say about that, bro? Weren't you only 4th ~”

A hospital bed, “Don't know what happened, traumatic injuries, don't know - “

…

My head hurts as slowly things start to become clearer about small facets of my old life, and eventually the pain becomes bad enough that I withdraw my finger from the pond, stopping the flow of old memories.

I haven't even gone through a tenth of the memories necessary to puzzle out my old life, but the pain, although not physical, is a warning sign that I can only take so much at a time.

I have briefly remembered a sister during my time at Hogwarts, in flashes, and now that I have a little better picture of the situation, I feel the pang of loss keenly.

I don't have all my memories yet, I don't know why I so eagerly embraced a new world, because I had, even before I began utilizing Occlumency. Why had I chosen to push aside my old life so easily? Even if I hadn't meant to lock it away, why had I given up on her…

I am a shit brother.

No wonder I dealt with Tonks so horribly until only a miracle could fix things. Am I… Even a good person?

I take a metaphysical deep breath, and stand up, I don't have time for regrets right now, that can come after… My resolve firmed up, I needed to find out where the memories deliberately taken from me were.

Giving one last lingering look at the shimmering pond, knowing I'll be back at some point. I step back into the deep mist, searching for that which is hidden.

As I venture deeper into the mist, the air grows colder, and the hairs on the back of my non-existent neck stand on end - a weird feeling to have. I can't shake the feeling that I'm being watched, which is ridiculous because I'm in my mind, there's no one else here.

Thinking briefly on the parasite in Harry's mind, I shudder. There better not be anything here!

The mist seems to be getting thicker still, making it a little like walking through soup, making it difficult to see anything at all. Suddenly the mist just... Ends, and I face nothing but blankness in front of me. Or at least so I think for a moment, standing in a vast blank expanse of nothing, before something appears in the distance.

It's the mist, I see it again, but it's swirling out of reach.. behind the big wall of nothingness I can't pass through at the moment. As I gaze into the distance, the swirling mist begins to take shape. It forms into a large, imposing door, standing alone in the middle of the blank expanse. The door appears to be made of solid oak, reinforced with iron bands and adorned with intricate carvings. It seems entirely out of place in this empty void, but I can't shake the feeling that it's here for a reason - that it's the next step.

The blankness now feels more malleable, like I can push through, and some of it feels… A little too convenient.

It is my mind. What would I think if I controlled something like this? The blankness all around is creepy and deeply uncomfortable, which makes the inviting door an obvious choice.

Pushing through the blankness is like walking through thick syrup, some resistance pushing against me, not wanting me to go further, and I feel that I'm on the right track, this resistance perhaps the representation of the block to my wiped memories. Notably, the resistance is lesser on the path to the door.

The fact it's inviting me in, is another sign. Not a good one, I feel.

I make my way to it, stopping just ahead of it, pondering the oddity of it. The heavy iron bands make the door look imposing, like the kind of door that leads to a dungeon. I wonder if it's possible to trap obliviated memories to ensure they're not easily retrieved, not something I had even thought of before.

Seeing this door, and feeling it doesn't belong. I'm thinking of it now. Going by the idea that Quirrell, or worse, Quirrelmort, had Obliviated me, the chance of a trap wasn't an impossible one.

All of this is wrong, it's not how Legilimency and Occlumency works, I think, studying my surroundings.

But… In the case of a story book - it is thematic - the quest for oneself. And like I'd discovered, magic easily works its way into the crevices of a story - finding the path without direction due to centuries of habits. And with me having recently called on such deep magic, perhaps it had its effects on a deeper level than I had suspected.

Not a very comforting thought, dealing with fate suddenly seems a lot less inviting. Which doesn't help me after the fact.

Deciding I'd rather take a chance on the unknown that fit with everything so far - over the odd door - I step around it, and the tableau immediately changes.

From one step to the next I appear inside a throne room, medieval, dark, foreboding. The stone walls radiating a feeling of discontent, the tableau complete with a grand throne made of dark, polished wood and adorned with thistles and thorns that made it an uncomfortable looking seat.

It definitely is like something out of a story book, the end of a book reached, the final climactic battle between light and dark and what have you. Although as a reflection in my mind, I have a feeling about what I'm walking into…

The room is dimly lit, with only a few flickering torches scattered around the walls, casting long, thin shadows across the throne room as they burn with an off putting green flame. The air is thick with an oppressive energy, and in this room, the feeling of being watched emanates strongly from the shadows.

My feeling on what's going on grows stronger, and I'm not very pleased with it. I did not need this.

As I carefully take in my surroundings, having that feeling about where this is going grow ever stronger. If it's the case… If I'm following a story, this is the point… The flames grow larger suddenly, ominous music playing from nowhere and suddenly the feeling of being watched recedes.

I immediately notice that there's now a figure seated on the throne. The figure is shrouded in darkness, wearing it as a cloak, making it difficult to make out any details. However, I can sense an overwhelming aura of malice emanating from them. The figure regards me with a cold, calculating gaze, and I feel a shiver run down my spine, even in this purely mental space.

I definitely have read too many stories…

"Who dares to enter my domain?" the figure booms, their voice echoing throughout the throne room. The mental landscape briefly flickering, as the figure let's their will loose.

I wince, not at all happy about any of this, even if it in some ways made things easier when it came to recovering my memories. It's just so done. The problem in general with stories is that they've all been done.

Still, a story in some ways is preferable to the hard work of slowly untangling thousands of strings to loosen the web of an Obliviation - especially if it allowed me to cheat past the hard work without making this avenue harder.

Which still remains to be seen…

“Is this posturing really necessary?” I say to myself with a resigned expression.

Because if this is running the gamut of a story, then of course it's me that's sitting over there.

Waterfall of truth, hall of mirrors, whatever you want to call it. I'm facing my own reflection.

As I thought, I remove the dark hood covering my face, a scowl on my features as I stare at myself. “Would it really have hurt to play along a little?” I gesture to the throne room, “When are we ever going to get a chance to do something like this again?”

Merlin, I hope it's never…

I sigh, wondering if this me is supposed to represent all my negative emotions - or just a sense for dramatics… “I don't suppose you'd just agree that recovering the memories is important and just go along, would you?” I ask myself.

Knowing me, I wouldn't lay down so easily…

Merlin, this is one hell of a mind fuck… I think.

“Of course it's important!” I say with a flourish, stepping off my throne, beginning to descend the steps. “That's why we got to do this thing properly!”

I give myself a deadpan stare as the imperial soundtrack plays as I walk down the steps of the throne to face myself. “Really? You're going to do this all light side versus dark side, do we even have a dark side?”

I shake my head, a pitying look on my face, drawing a wand out of my voluminous robes, “Everyone has a dark side, uglier, less capable me.” I strike a pose, “Especially us!”

I pull out my own wand somehow, calling on it despite this all being a mental representation, bemusement clear on my features, “So what truth am I supposed to suddenly have an epiphany about?” I ask, even as I try to impose my will over this room, it's my mind, I insist.

The room refuses to obey. Because of course it isn't that easy.

“That won't work.” I say idly, a haughty smirk on my face that makes me look constipated in my opinion, looking at it from the other side.

Note to self, haughty doesn't work.

“It's my mind…” I say with certainty, giving myself a headache with all this, but I really didn't want to duel myself for my own truth or something so ridiculous.

Who knew messing around with divination would lead to such ridiculous things. Even as I can't help but note how absolutely amazing it all is at the same time. Just very… Annoying, considering the need I have.

I sigh, shoulders slumping slightly, “I can't believe I'm this dumb, if I'm in a story, I have to play it out, that's how stories work, evil versus good, dark versus light, good brother… versus bad brother…”

I make a distasteful face, acknowledging my point, I'd caught myself in a story, due to my own meddling, so the only way to end it, was to see it to its end. “Fiendfyre!”

I gape in shock as a conflagration of fire scorches it's way across the throne room, mythical beasts screaming out in crackling blistering hatred as they claw their way forward, melting everything in its path. “You're the good one, you can't fire first! And Fiendfyre is a bad spell!” I shout, absolutely incensed at the cheating.

I shrug causally, “It's my mind, I can make up whatever spell I want.” I sure as hell wasn't dueling myself fairly, I'm too tricky of a bastard…

“You suck!” Came as nothing more than a whisper of ash, as the throne room and myself is immolated in the flames from hell.

“I think I need therapy.” I say to the empty space, before it seems to fold in on itself, and I am hurled straight into a pool of milky white liquid, falling straight into a memory, the barriers gone.

…

Professor Quirrell exited the room of requirement, holding the Ravenclaw Diadem!

Quirrell meeting my eyes, a cold smile blooming on his face. "What a pleasant surprise, Mister Greenwood.”

…

"I am quite interested however in knowing how you, a mudblood, knew to find this room.”

…

"Dumbledore is keeping an annoyingly close eye on me, you can thank that for living beyond today." He pointed his wand at me, "Well, if you could remember." He mocked, before hissing out, "Obliviate!”

…

I force the memories to still, it's painful, but I need to think before I get sucked into anything else, and there is more, I can feel it.

How many times were I obliviated?

Nevermind that for the moment, I decide. Quirrell has the Ravenclaw diadem, that is bad to a whole ‘nother level. Does that confirm he is Voldemort? It must, right? I just can't see the Dark Lord trusting anyone to fetch it for him. And what is he even doing with it?

Is it even a Horcrux? So much is different, does he even have those? But why else get the diadem? Why else would he have hidden it at Hogwarts, and they still had the curse on the defense position…

Yeah, it was still definitely a Horcrux just based on that.

…Wait a minute.

That motherfucker obliviated the knowledge of the room of requirements from me!

I had so many plans for that room, plans to fix my poverty, to get some awesome loot, lost knowledge, the whole nine yards. There were so many experiments I had wanted to do with the room's magic - and I had completely forgotten about its existence - which smarted almost worse than knowing Quirrell has a Horcrux in his possession.

The worst thing was that now I knew and I still couldn't go near the room of requirements. Not while Voldemort was at Hogwarts, if he didn't have a ward around there, I'd eat a house elf. If I went snooping around there, he'd know I had my memories back.

That… Would literally kill me. So not doing that.

I have so far refused to go to Dumbledore. With a Horcrux in Quirrelmorts hands… Can I still take that stance?

I take a deep breath, which doesn't really do anything for me in this metaphysical plane. I can feel the pull, the story rushing to completion.

I have defeated my reflection - now I face the truths I have been seeking.

… I'm not sure I want to know what else has been hidden from me, but the pain of resisting the ebb and flow of the story is beginning to be debilitating, so I let go, falling into another memory.

…

I find myself at the tail end of a detention, Professor Quirrell advancing on me.

"If I'd say that the best way forward for the magical world is a full decapitation of the muggle world's powerbase - what would you do to achieve this?" Quirrell enquired, suddenly stalking forward, grabbing me by the chin with long pale fingers, eyes fanatically burning as he met my gaze.

I saw myself scream in pain, as Quirrell violated my mind.

Thankful still, that at the very least, my old life was hidden, because otherwise I would have never left that room alive.

I felt myself pulled along, Quirrell’s voice distant as he queried me further and further on the muggle world.

As I revealed too much, how easily the muggle world could fall into chaos. Disrupt logistics on a global scale, knock out communications, power, society will begin to break. Spread a disease, or famine - and the rules of law would shatter, the muggle world fully engulfed in the flames.

More questions, more answers, how to prevent the muggles from destroying everything in their wake due to the chaos.

Destroy or transfigure all nuclear weapons, imperio military commanders, completely destroy fuel reserves, grounding the worst weapons - leaving muggles with firearms at best, to better kill each other.

How to hurry up the fall. Go after the countries that produce most of the wheat for the world, eradicate their fields - idea after idea of all the worst things you could do to really bring humanity low.

Quirrell releases my head, a hint of surprise on his features, even as his calculating gaze ponders me. “Interesting… I have tried this on many a Muggleborn, including Miss Granger, and never have I received such a comprehensive and final solution.”

“What… Are you after…?” I gasp out, my head splitting in pain, as I taste blood in my mouth.

Professor Quirrell strokes his wand with long fingers, a pensive expression on his face, “Hmm, what indeed, young mudblood…. I suppose we could call it plan… C… Just in case everything else goes sideways.” His lips curl in malevolence, “It wouldn't be too difficult to convince the magical world muggles needed a steady hand if they were falling apart, would it?”

“You'll be caught, that much magic, on muggles…” I struggle out, my teeth red as I spit at the son of a bitch, expecting my own death, but feeling nothing but disgust, at myself for inadvertently giving him more ideas, and at Quirrell for even entertaining something so vile as planetary annihilation of muggles.

Professor Quirrell chuckles darkly, the mix of saliva and blood I spit out, traveling through the air in a lazy spiral, until it slips inside a glass bottle he produces from somewhere within his robes. With a wave of his wand, I feel better, my head no longer hurting so badly, my mouth healed from where I'd bitten into my tongue and cheek. I stare in horror at the fact I just delivered my blood into his hand, even if he could have taken it at any moment.

“They will figure out that something is going on, surely. They aren't too bad at their jobs after all, unfortunately.” Professor Quirrell agrees easily enough, “Yet, as I found in your mind, your delightfully creative mind, once the collapse starts, it's not something easily fixed…” He let out a pleased hum, “I doubt it is as easy as you picture it, you're still young and foolish, but you showed me several scenarios I hadn't considered, so I thank you for that.”

“Fuck you!” Even with fear beginning to creep up my spine, I can't help myself, the words slipping out.

Professor Quirrell doesn't seem to mind, barely paying attention to me, “It's a last resort…” He mutters to himself, “It's messy, the other plans are preferable,” He continues, as he steps up to a cabinet that I hadn't noticed existed until this moment, opening the dark wooden doors, placing my bottle of blood and saliva inside. At this point I'm not even surprised to see dozens of bottles inside, although seeing the labels marked as Hermione Granger and Harry Potter - makes me feel defeated.

“I suppose we'll have to see which plan ultimately ends up utilized, I'm sure it will come as a great surprise to you either way, Obliviate!”

…

The memory ends and I curse, then curse some more for lacking anything better to say about the memory.

Me rattling off a bunch of different ways the muggle world could collapse is bad, but ultimately he could have gotten something similar from any muggle, so I'm not sure what the point was with it all.

The fact it's not the first plan, is of little comfort when one of the plans is obviously for the Death Eaters to completely destroy muggle society - to force the magicals into stepping in as their caretakers, since they couldn't take care of themselves.

Honestly, I am less disturbed by the mind rape and the plan - then by the fact Quirrelmort has my bloody blood! And Harry's too!

Nothing good can come from that!

I might have to go to Dumbledore, I admit distastefully.

To my shock, I'm drawn into a third memory, I was obliviated three fucking times!?

…

I stare in shock and awe at the room, my explorations having taken me into the large cavernous room, giant portraits of previous Hogwarts Headmasters above me, the pool of water solidified before me, a vision of Hogwarts and its surroundings visible below.

The room from Hogwarts Legacy, where the protagonist, the wielder of ancient magic - would come to speak to the ancient Headmasters and Headmistress of Hogwarts in his quest.

The portraits were empty, but just seeing this wonderful vision, being here, in a place where momentous events were set in motion - was reward enough for my wanderings of the castle.

In no way did I believe myself capable of whatever ancient magic actually was, the name absolutely ridiculous considering all magic is by definition ancient. No matter what new purposes we find for it, it's all stemming from the same source.

Perhaps that is it?

Ancient magic, as used by those very few.

Is simply a term for someone able to actually access the source of all magic.

It's nothing but a guess, but it makes more sense then just slapping ancient onto something as an explanation for how it works.

“You have a habit of finding yourself where you're not supposed to be, Mister Greenwood.” A voice says heavily from behind me.

I turn around, grimacing as I come face to face with Albus Dumbledore, his eyes sad as he peers down at me.

“This doesn't seem that forbidden to me?” I say with a stubborn set to my jaw, refusing to apologize for discovering one of Hogwarts many secrets.

Dumbledore looks up at the portraits with a complicated expression on his face, “The place itself is not, the knowledge one could gain simply by discovering it… Is, I'm afraid, not yours to keep.”

I look around me, taking in the beauty of the cavern, the magic surrounding me, the vision of Hogwarts beneath me, “How is knowing about this room a danger?” I ask, boldly.

I figure I might as well, because it's not like I can outduel Dumbledore, so I might gain some satisfaction before he wipes my mind. Because I immediately clocked onto that fact. Why else would he be here, blathering about dangerous knowledge.

“You're young still, it's understandable to see no danger in simple knowledge. This kind… this kind of knowledge, when you know it, it knows you too, an insidious kind of thing, dating back a hundred years…” Dumbledore explained, a sorrowful tone to his voice.

“You're going to obliviate me aren't you?” I ask, already sure of the answer.

Dumbledore smiles down at me, sad and determined at the same time, “It's what's best for you.” He insists gently, raising his wand.

“Fuck you!” I fire off, before the memory suddenly ends.

….

My last thought inside my mindscape, before it all slips away from me…

Bloody hell, I told both Dumbledore and Quirrelmort to fuck off!

…

I have a lot on my mind as I come to, staring into a mirror yet again, Tonks looking at me with wide eyes, looking flabbergasted, and then elated, “Lucas! Look!” She shouts in glee, pointing at the mirror.

I stare at myself. The me I was before.

Since buggering when am I a bloody metamorphmagus!?

Rituals don't work like that!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ