~Phantasma~
Ashes of secrets
The pride of the fallen;
Eternal abyss of time
The enemy of indecision;
Silver veins of memories
The haunted specters following...
She stared blankly at the varnished table before her, scattered with various parchments and peacock quills. Her dull grey eyes strained to take in the two vials centered among the papers, one starkly empty and the other a cloudy, ghostly green that reminded her of the specters she’d seen in graveyards. Her stomach balked at the ghastly color, a strong reminder that she was, once more, going against her father’s wishes. She imagined silver streaks among the smoky liquid, and wondered if she should go forward with her plan. The potion didn’t seem deadly after all.
But where was he? She already felt chills on her pale skin from sneaking to this chamber, but now her heart beat out a sense of foreboding, pulsing imaginary words, –Trap… It’s a trap.†The very idea caused her to shudder.
She recalled meeting him that fateful day outside of Borgin and Burkes, resplendent in velvet robes of a dark forest green. He held himself in a way that suggested wealth and power, and she had done her best to remain hidden in the cobblestone alley, despondent and ashy grey. But he had spotted her and seemed to guess who she was.
–What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be keeping the house for your father?†His tone wasn’t altogether accusatory; instead, a slight amusement played on his lips.
She didn’t answer, trying to find a way to escape, to get away from the watching world. But she needed to buy certain ingredients right then- or wait for the next minimal sliver of opportunity to arrive.
–Say, what’s your name again? Calliope?â€
Her eyes were blinking a little too fast as she narrowed her gaze to her dirty, naked feet. She gave the tiniest shake of her head, wanting to vanish into the brick wall.
–Well, what is it?â€
Why was he bugging her? Couldn’t he just stroll on by, forget she even existed? But she saw the tiny curly M embroidered into the velvet cloak and recognized it as the Malfoy trademark. Her father had talked loudly and boastfully of a friendship with the Malfoys. She wondered if it wasn’t just another lie, meant to degrade her lack of magical connections with the outside world further.
Hesitating slightly, she raised her heavy-set face to the man. –Merope,†she mumbled inaudibly, but it was enough of a sound for Malfoy to pick it up.
–Merope Gaunt. That’s what it was! Pity about your brother and father,†He didn’t sound sorry at all, an insincere sympathizing smile plastered onto his young face.
She didn’t return the smile, reverting back to staring at the ground, her lank hair hanging in thin, ugly twists.
–Never seen you at Hogwarts. I graduated two years back, landed a job with my father’s company and now I have some standing in the community. Gold is never too far away from power,†he knowingly said, striking an arrogant pose. She wondered briefly what it would be like to have some gold in her possession. Perhaps she’d be able to impress Tom, and buy a lifetime of supplies for the love potion she planned on making. But the only gold to her name was an heirloom, a depressing reminder of how low her family had stooped and squandered away whatever fortune they may have had. That locket lay in a drawer, gathering dust, having been abandoned when her family had been thrown into Azkaban.
–Let me buy you a drink,†the man suggested slyly, barely containing the eagerness he had for information. Merope’s face grew, if possible, heavier, but she reluctantly stumbled after the young fellow to the bar.
That day didn’t seem that long ago. He had thrown his money all around the bar, buying drink after drink and gossiping with the other men, springing questions on her that she felt compelled to answer. She feared that if she didn’t cooperate that this seemingly friendly man would turn nasty and become like her father, abusive and rowdy.
His name was Abraxas, and he was indeed a Malfoy. He joked about the conditions of those in prison and gloated over the fact that he was higher in status than many men. He even boasted that he was an old hand at magic, graduated top of his class.
She didn’t know what was truth and what was lies. Half the time, Abraxas contradicted himself, saying that he had grown up in a pureblood town up north and later recalling having a childhood in the south of France. But she patiently bore the noise, unwilling to speak up or leave.
Somehow, the conversation had turned to her. What was she doing out here, in Knockturn Alley? Why wasn’t she at home, like a good daughter, tending her duties?
Lying had never been a strong suit of hers. She stuttered out a story of wanting to brew a potion, but not having the means to do so. But she remained quiet on her intentions.
–I am an excellent potioneer!†Abraxas bragged. –Let me help you. I have all the gold to help you out and I even have a lab set up where I can brew the potion. What potion did you want?â€
Her lungs seized up, but she didn’t have the strength to resist the question, and she did need the money. –A love potion,†she whispered, half to herself, her eyes boring into her hands.
The table now in front of her was daunting. She didn’t know much about potions, but it seemed that Abraxas had succeeded in brewing something. She still couldn’t understand the ulterior motives Malfoy had, but she was grateful for the help.
Until she picked up the papers.
Curiosity nabbed her when she finally tore her gaze from the vials and glanced at the strange symbols on the parchment. Her hand, shaking with a slight tremor, delicately held up the paper. Her mind whirred with the revelations she was reading.
In black ink, several formulas had been written down, and drawings of an odd nature were depicted, showing loops with hazy streams and men stumbling into them. Two words stood out against all the rest: Time Travel.
She almost sunk to a heap on the floor. To be able to travel in time! She could do anything, become anyone, gain every dream.
Merope wasn’t very intelligent- her father continually shouted this at her - but she could feel her brain whirring, taking in this new revelation, especially when she flipped the parchment and found a drawing of the vials on the table.
She could go back in time by drinking the potion!
Slowly, her euphoria depleted. Where was Malfoy? He had promised to meet her here. And why was one vial empty, when the drawing showed both of them full?
Her wits finally came about. Abraxas must have drunk the potion. He must have gone back in time.
But how was he to get back?
A new sense of adventure thrilled through her veins, but she coiled from them. Never before had she such a desire to be rash. Abraxas was probably merely late. Her mind told her that this was probably the love potion, but her heart screamed approval of the adventure. It would be a new leaf, a new life. The tendrils of silver steam rising from the potion attached themselves to her heart, tugging her forward, gently whispering of dreams and glory.
She grabbed the vial full of the murky green liquid. Her mind quailed at the color, but she forced it aside. It was too late for doubts now.
Yet she paused anyways. Would she be able to get back?
The notes on the table were scattered in every direction, but she felt it would be wise to gather them up. Abraxas might need them. If she didn’t find him, perhaps she could decipher the notes and actually use magic. Actually brew a potion. Then she wouldn’t be the Squib her father saw in her. She would be a real witch.
The dream excited her even more, and she hastily gathered up the parchments, rustling them into a messy bundle, unaware that one piece slid from among her arms and settled into the niche between the farthest table leg and the stonewall.
She only had eyes for the green potion, which she put to her lips, and deeply drank, anticipating the journey back in time.
---
Nothing happened for a heartbeat as the liquid rushed into her bloodstream. The vial fell to the floor, shattering, but before the glass could penetrate her skin, a tremendous tug yanked her into blackness, her body fizzing out of the present.
Flicks and streaks of light swirled around her, sometimes grazing her pasty arms with a slight buzz. She could feel her body convulsing, stretching, desperate to fall apart and become a part of the wandering particles zipping past. She almost let it happen. Almost. But as she sped along, her mind berated her for having made such a rash decision. Who knew when she would return? Who knew where she was going exactly? Or to be more precise, when? The unanswered questions plagued her.
Her body tingled with loneliness and despair as she realized she might never see Tom again. She almost burst into tears, but she had long lost the ability to do so. An empty, hollow ache expanded in her stomach. Desperately, she conjured up an image of her beloved Tom, struggling to remember every detail- his sharp nose, hollowed cheeks, rich dark eyes, wavy raven hair...
It kept her together, this memory of him. She no longer wished to meld with the time stream. She longed to return home, to be rid of this terrifying experience. But she couldn't. Not yet. She didn't know how.
Her grey eyes stayed shut through the entire vile journey, unwilling to let go of the image of Tom, imagining him smiling warmly at her. Dreaming of a future with him.
She quite suddenly found herself standing unsteadily, warmth enveloping her from some unknown source. Her hold on the notes relaxed, her fingers unclenching in the serene air.
Her eyes flew open in curiosity, and Tom dissipated from her conscious. The golden sun blazed above, not a cloud in the sky. It was a vibrant baby blue, a color she had never experienced much before, slaving around the hovel and stumbling around the murky allies. The blue filled her eyes, making her look less despondent, and actually thinning her face out, especially considering the fact that she was smiling slightly at the view before her.
And what a view it was! The verdant fields were lush and springy, the trees full of brightly hued leaves, lazily shading various parts of the meadow. Dark rich shrubs bore vibrant morning glories and forget-me-nots. In a large clearing that not far away, a fantastic ruin of marble and limestone stood, lonely and majestic.
Merope tentatively strolled to the ruin, enjoying the luscious feel of the spongy ground beneath her feet, the grassy texture inviting after years of stumbling on stone and dusty wood. She wanted to just lie down and take in the new experience, but there was too much else to see! She allowed herself to slowly trail along the tops of the grass blades, awakening a new sense of passion inside her deprived heart.
The ruin was made up of chairs in a grand circle, almost as if it had once been the site for many council gatherings. There were five, to be precise, of the gray marbled thrones that delicately sparkled in the warm sun, with their high backs that had been chiseled away by the weather over the years.
She had never sat down in such a chair- she had never sat in a chair, for that matter. She had always been resigned to the muddy floors for her meals and never been given a special place to do any sewing or yarn work. Not that she particularly enjoyed those activities. But the fact of the matter was that she had never truly sat in a chair. Not even when Abraxas had bought her a drink. She had stood by the counter because the place had been full to bursting with drunk patrons.
But now, she wanted to sit. She yearned to settle into the carved seats. The thrones were inviting, and the silver veins in the limestone and marble drew her heart in, whispering into the light breeze to cast her burdens aside and relax.
Her thin fingers traced the back of the largest chair, marveling at the feel of the cool, smooth texture against her calloused hands. It felt clean and invigorating. Tiny stars fizzed in her nerves, causing her to pleasurably shiver. Something radiated off these stones. Something spoken of, but rarely understood by mankind. Something that filled her soul with an expanding glow of airiness, warmth, and power. Something that tore off the veil she had lived behind for years in her mind, arousing a renewed sense of immortal being...
She stumbled back, her grey eyes suddenly dulling from the electric blue hue they had taken on. Fear thrilled inside her. Never had she so strongly desired power, to lift up her wand and use it commandingly. Trembling, she sunk to the verdant ground, tears welling in her eyes. Tears! She gingerly wiped one with the tip of her finger and marveled at the tiny drop. It was irregularly colored, reflecting startling reds and violets. She peered closer, interested in spite of herself.
Within the tiny globe, a massive building stood, a beacon of hope. But suddenly, it was crumbling, shrieking with agony, red and green streaks slashing the air. Dark and vile figures overtook innocent ones. At the very front of the matter was a skeletal being, stark white with slits for a nose and angry red eyes. He laughed a high, cold sound that caused the tiny hairs on Merope's skin to rise. She was shivering uncontrollably now, and her head bowed into her knees, the teardrop evaporating into the silent air.
She lay there, sobbing, wailing, unable to stop herself. She couldn't say why, only that her heart suddenly felt as though it had been cleaved into several bloody pieces. Levers and hammers struck against her head, searching for the right niches to break off her stone figure. She ached from crying, her throat burning with the passion of hellfire, drowning with leaden sorrows. Darkness encompassed her, flooding her mind, her heart, her soul...
---
She did not know how long she knelt on the plush grass, all her emotions flooding the pleats of her bedraggled skirt, searing pain racking her entire body. All she knew was the raucous laughter rankling her, refusing to release its terrifying hold on her.
When she finally raised her slick and oily face, night was approaching swiftly, the sky splattered with various oranges and vivid pinks. An icy tint stung the silent air, and she knew that she had to get moving or else become victim to nature.
She glanced at the ruin that had caused her distress, now reflecting the colors of the sky with silvery hues. Innocently, it stood there, the revelation of earlier power extinct and unknown to the unenlightened mind. But she could not shake the previous agony that had erupted inside her. Still trembling, she struggled to her feet. She knew she would not soon forget the image of that skeletal creature, wickedly laughing at the world, its distant echo still pounding in her poor ears.
Turning her back on the ruin, she searched among the trees for a way out. She realized with startling fear that she hadn’t any idea where she was- nor when she was, for that matter. Her eyes roamed over some small podiums to her right, appearing similar to that of old sun dials. She cautiously approached them, remembering what had happened when she had touched the throne.
The tiny structures were similar in makeup as the thrones, a warning sign in her beleaguered mind. Yet still, she drew closer, curiosity and desperation hounding her.
When she stood directly in the center space between two podiums, a path suddenly twisted opened before her, lined by hundreds of trees and covered in an infinite amount of miniscule grey pebbles. Her feet quickly pushed her forward, but she resisted, unsure of what lay ahead. Indecision sickened her, a hot swooping sensation boiling her belly. Why was it that she was terrified of being bold and daring? Perhaps because she was, at least, somewhat safe in this clearing. Who knew what was in the distance, waiting to cause her more pain?
The chilled breeze sank into her bones, and she hugged her arms close to her frozen chest, her breathing sharp, the papers providing little warmth that she still clung to. She cast a cursory glance at the still podiums that were simple in their nature. She longed now to stay, to sit in the chairs and relax, but the biting cold was her savior. She feared that if she sat, she would be overwhelmed more than she had been and be unable to escape, eventually freezing to the thrones and becoming a part of the ruin. This was nonsense, of course, but still, it saved her from becoming stagnant and simply staying behind.
Desperate for warmth and for answers, she set one foot on the revealed path. Nothing stupendous happened. Relaxing, she continued on the path, yet the laughter followed her.
She had been walking for perhaps a minute when she turned her eyes to what was behind her. All she saw was foliage, swallowed up in darkness. She gasped. Merope traced her steps backward, but the path extended into a dead end, a large rocky wall covered in twisting vines. No clearing, no podiums, no marbled ruin.
Dejectedly, she pressed forward onto the never-ending path, now spooked by each sound in the trees and the pebbles. At least the sky was available overhead, slowly fading into a deep, inky blue.
Something was wrong. The coloring of the night sky was all right, but it was not peppered by the stars. There wasn’t a cloud obscuring them, either. And she could see no evidence of the elusive moon. The sky was just a blank, dark blue canvas.
The trees were similar. Uniform in a dark, evil forest green; unpatterned, the leaves were as smooth parchment, without veins. The pebbles below her were perfect spheres, just as blank.
Thoroughly disconcerted, she shut her eyes from the disturbing images. She was met by complete darkness. The usual spots of purple or yellow did not even appear. Just utter blackness. Try as she might, she could not conjure up any images in her thoughts. What had time travel done to her?
The laughter still echoed in her ears.
With a cry of distress that she could not even hear, she began to race along the path, parchments furled up in her fists, the pebbles digging into her bare feet as sharp swords. Identical trees passed by not in blurs, but in sharp focus. It spurred her on faster, wishing, yearning to find the end of the trail. But she had never ran for her life before. Within a few minutes, her body quit, and she collapsed to the pebbled floor.
Confusion swept through her. What was going on? She had drank a potion, traveled to a ruin, found this trail, and was now unable to focus on anything but the blank, uniform shapes and the terrible laughter that refused to leave her be.
She crawled over the pebbles, ignoring the pain of the indentations they placed into her weak knees. Was she crazy? She struggled to recall past events, but only the skeletal figure came into her conscious thought.
She paused in her efforts to move, and let her shoulders slouch from weariness.
Magic.
The word penetrated her exhaustion. Magic.
She stared down at the papers in her hand, miraculously unharmed from the trip. Magic had surely brought her here. Magic could save her.
Hand shaking, she reached into a bedraggled pocket and clasped her wand. Magic.
The wand wasn’t much, having gotten it from a second-hand shop, but it had, as her father had distastefully grunted, chosen her. But she was wary of it. Never had she been much of a witch. She knew of spells, but found that she lacked conviction and confidence in her ability. Of course, she didn’t see it that way. She honestly thought that she was mediocre, as her father said. It was why she sought to make a potion, rather than use a spell, to get Tom to fall for her. She knew she could cook, at least.
Magic. She didn’t know if she liked it. It felt alien within her mind. But perhaps it would save her from this confusing circumstance. Yet what should she do? Abraxas had been right- he hadn’t seen her at Hogwarts. She had never gone to school.
Something caught her eye in the distance. A velvet green rag waved to her from a low branch, similar to the cloth Malfoy wore.
The laughter had yet to die out, but it had slowly taken a back seat to her other thoughts that now shoved her to be heard. Malfoy’s cloak. That meant he had come through here. And he must have gotten out, since she didn’t see him.
She slowly plucked it from the branch. As her fingers touched the material, her mind cleared, and she only had a single thought. Finite Incantatem.
Dropping the velvet, she quickly seized her wand, and loudly stated, –Finite Incantatem!â€
The blankness fell away, stars twinkled above, and a breeze flitted by her face. Ahead, the trail came to another clearing.
Bewildered at what just happened, Merope could only stare down at her wand. Magic. Had she really just performed magic?
The trail was more inviting now than before, and the worried creases in the sorrowful folds framing her face smoothed themselves out. There hadn’t been any danger. At least, she was safe, right?
Stowing her wand away, she hurried along the path to the clearing she could see, the bundle of loose parchments rustling in the wind, eager to share the knowledge inked upon them.
---
She was growing weary now of time travel. The clearing a couple miles back had been just that- a clearing. She had continued along the path, and now found herself deep in some forest somewhere. If this was time travel, she wanted desperately out. She was thirsty, hungry, and exhausted. The night continued to mock her, and the laughter still hadn’t fully dissipated. What was she to do now?
She’d given up on stopping. It was too cold to do so. Every now and then she leaned against a tree for a respite, but she wouldn’t allow herself to sit down. She knew if she did, there wouldn’t be a getting-up-again.
It irked her that she hadn’t found Malfoy. She still held those stupid papers that she was tempted to just toss on the side of the trail, but some deeper instinct inhibited her from doing so. If she lost the notes, she may as well lose her normal life in the future. Or in the past? She wasn’t sure. For all she knew, she possibly hadn’t even traveled in time. She considered the idea. And almost immediately let it go. Her brain hurt from thinking, especially since the laughter kept interjecting how it felt.
The hours passed by, and her breathing became more weighted; her pace, deadly slow. The stars slowly lost their twinkle and began to disappear, taking on a paler blue. Rays of yellow light started to inch along the canvas above, and morning dawned, silent and early. The silence pricked at her heart. She found that she missed company, even if it was rude and raucous company. Even if the company glared at her and hissed at her in Parseltongue. Or maybe not. Maybe being alone had its advantages. But she truly missed Tom. She hadn’t gotten a chance to see him before drinking that dratted potion. Who knew when she would see him again?
She could go no more. Her will dissolved and she found herself collapsing against a skinny, mossy tree. She noticed that the path had changed from pebbles to dirt. Scrumptious dirt. Like the dirt at home. Like the dirt thinly veiling her skin.
She was surrounded by patches of clover that were a lustrous green brighter than even the grass back home. Clover. It made her smile. Clover reminded her of the crazy Irish she had read about. Of the gold at the end of a rainbow. With a small sigh, her shoulders rolled back against the tree. What she wouldn’t give for a rainbow right now or a pot of gold.
She plucked one particular weed from the compact ground and twirled it in front of her. such a small thing, barely discernable from the rest of the patch. She wished fervently that she could blend in just as well, become one with the background so nobody could pick her out. Yet, she had picked up this one. This particular clover. Maybe it didn’t blend in. Maybe nothing ever did.
It was time to sleep. Exhaustion yanked at her deprived mind, and her head lolled onto her bony shoulder, the laughter still echoing in her sore ears.
---
Something buzzed in her face. It was irksome more than ticklish, and the noise was starting to become worse than the infernal laughter that still continued to permeate her thoughts.
Instinctively, she flicked her hand in the air to ward off the annoying cretin, eyes still full of sleep. Something like a small painful needle suddenly pierced her skin, jolting her straight up.
She took in the hot afternoon sun, and the now swarming crowd of lacewing flies that hastened about the little area she had settled into. Charming. Tiredly, she glanced down at her hand and saw a very small sting near one of her knuckles. Wonderful. At least it was just a small sting.
She failed to notice the brightly colored waspish insect sailing into the treetops.
She realized, though, that she was wasting precious time. If she wanted to escape, she had to find Malfoy.
She scrambled to her feet and quickly found herself nauseous and dizzy. She swayed on the spot, unsteady and ready to fall back into the pillow-like clover on the ground. No. She had to keep moving forward.
The nausea now took a front seat to the laughter, the two intermittently switching their roles to torment the poor girl.
The trail stretched on for eons, but eventually it finally escaped the forest, and she was amazed to see large rolling hills in the distance, covered in tons of rock, moss, and grass. She had never gotten to see the mountains before.
Her throat severely burned from thirst, so she set her sights on water. There had to be water somewhere!
After climbing over various rocks (just about causing her body to shut down from overexertion), she spotted what appeared to be footprints on a particular vein of silvery stone. As far as she could tell, the prints were from boots, and they had been imprinted on the rock by something wet! Instinct kicked in. Water had to be somewhere close.
She eagerly searched the surrounding area until an awful smell caught her. It reminded her closely of rotten eggs, and the nausea suddenly became all too real. Retching, she clutched her frail belly and sunk to her knees.
When the vomiting had subsided, she gingerly hoisted herself, briefly touching the silver stone that encompassed much of the area.
She yelped. The cruel power had enthralled her again, just as before when she had traced the back of the throne. Something sinister was afoot. The laughter expanded into several more octaves higher, her mind a grand hall that echoed the sound mercilessly.
Immediate drowsiness shadowed her, yet she determined that Malfoy had to be close by.
"Abraxas," she called into the wind softly, so much so that even a dog would have ignored the sound. Her voice shook with weakness, as though she had aged a hundred years in the time stream. It wasn't an unpleasant voice, but it lacked strength, like tea that had steeped for but a few seconds.
Her grey eyes no longer seemed blank. A new dark life had stirred in them, but it was barely noticeable under the drooping eyelids. Her head nodded to the side. Sleep. How she longed to just curl up on a patch of rock and sleep.
She crawled to what resembled an above ground pool, and rested against it. She was no longer thinking straight, or she would have seen the steaming water within the structure. As it was, she could only lean back onto the rock. Her eyes began to flutter, losing focus.
Unbeknownst to her, the tiny sting near her knuckle was no longer small. It pulsed raggedly, expanding across her ghostly skin and injecting it with a slow poison that colored an ugly green.
Her breathing shallowed out, rasping in her throat. And the condemned laughing bellowed inside her fading thoughts.
The sluggish wind caressed her ear and she swore that she heard a deep sound on its wave.
Merope.
What was that?
Merope. Merope.
Her sapped will only flopped onto the rocky crevice.
Merope.
The laughter stung in her welling eyes.
Merope.
A concerned face loomed into her view, but she could not fight the drowsiness drowning her in a vale of tears. Something rustled in her arms, something lightly tugged back her lank hair. But she only sensed the looming abyss that received her ailing soul.
The Ghosts That Follow by Nagini Riddle
Story Notes:
The poems at the beginning of each section are my own. :)
A big shout out to my wonderful guide, hestiajones, whom without I would have given up!
And a great big hug to my wonderful betas, Karaley Dargen and MapleandPhoenixFeather.
P.S. Alternate Universe is only for time traveling, since I think it would not have been canon to have Merope go back in time. But that was the prompt I was given. Cheers!
Chapter Endnotes: And the plot thickens... ;)
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