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The Dark Witch
Advancing of Pieces
P.O.V - Albus Dumbledore
I first met Maria or, as history does and will remember her, the Dark Witch, at the tender age of five accompanying, then second year, Lucius Malfoy in Diagon Alley. She was a lovely child interested in everything that came her way. I remember when her eyes caught mine, despite my being cloaked in invisibility, she stunned me. I still don’t know how she saw me, yet she did. Her oval gray eyes locked onto mine like they were the only thing left in the world.
I remember that upon my return to Hogwarts I looked up everything thing that could possibly answer at least some of the questions that were flying around in my mind. I found nothing. It was the first sign.
Years later I would run across Maria again, under very different circumstances. She was no longer a wonder filled child of five, but an elusive assassin of thirteen and she nearly took my life. Her powers were unlike anything that I had encountered before, they went beyond the wand, and I was frightened. What had Tom done to this poor child?
I assume that she remained a secret weapon of Tom’s for a couple of years after my brush with her. Many unexplained deaths are testimony to that fact. However, her seventeenth year is even more certain in my mind. For it was the year she attended Hogwarts. It was also the year that, I believe, holds all the answers to the numerous questions that have plagued me for years.
I hoped to obtain knowledge of that year from the late Sirius Black, as he had known her better than most in her time here, many moons ago. But he refused to comment, refused to acknowledge her existence at all. And with his recent death at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange, that road has been closed to me.
Remus Lupin, a close friend of Sirius’ and a wary one Maria’s during her stay, was stoic when speaking to me of her, he, like Sirius before him, refused to give me any memories. However, he gave me one piece of information, one shred of a clue, her mother was not human.
It was something that I had suspected all along, but to hear it out loud, and from one who would difinitively knew…music. With this answer, however, came another question. If her mother was not human, then what was she? To this I did not even have a guess of an answer.
I opened my eyes slowly, almost cautiously, as I emerged from my daze of Dark Witch lore, to find myself sitting at my desk. A long feathery quill in my hand straining to touch the blank parchment sprawling out in front of me. I sighed, and placed my empty hand against my overly tensed forehead as I began to write.
Dear Harry,
If it is convenient for you, I shall call at number four, Privet Drive this coming Friday at eleven p.m. to escort you to the Burrow, where you have been invited to spend the remainder of your school holidays.
If you are agreeable, I should also be glad of your assistance in a matter to which I hope to attend on the way to the Burrow. I shall explain this more fully when I see you.
Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping to see you this Friday.
I am, yours most sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
There, my letter to Harry was completed. My plan was set in motion to bring Horace Slughorn back to the grounds of Hogwarts and under my supervision. Horace, though a dear friend, was not entirely to be trusted, and I mean it in the way that he had been holding out on me. There were two memories that I asked him for, one of Tom and one of Maria, and both he gave…after tampering with them of course. My fear now is, that in desperation to erase these memories completely someone, and I do not know who, but someone is out there, will murder him before I have the opportunity to persuade him into re-gifting me those memories, the proper ones this time. So that I can fully educate, not only me, but Harry as well, in what dangers await in the coming days.
“Head master.” Came the rather squeaky voice of Tania Bellings, a head mistress from 1124-1138. I turned my head upwards to look past the numerous paintings the lined the walls of my chamber to the very top where Tania’s petite impish form was smiling down at me.
“Yes, Tania?” I asked politely, “What is it?”
The giggling painting pointed to the direction of the window just behind my right shoulder. I turned hesitantly to look, knowing Tania’s sense of humor, to see an unusually large albatross throwing itself desperately against the glass, a letter strapped to one of his legs. I felt my eyebrows vanish into my hairline as I instinctively reached forward to unlock the window.
Seeing that I was opening the window for him, the large bird stumbled backwards in flight allowing me to push the glass forward, “Come in.” I said courteously, leaning back into my chair. The white albatross, eager to deliver its message, I suppose, flew wildly into the room startlingly some of the previous head masters and mistresses sleeping in their portraits, “Come now,” I began gently, “What do you have for me?”
The bird circled around the room quickly before flying towards me at a unbelievably high speed, crashing landing on my desk, and sending many of my prized objects “flying”. The albatross shook its head, dazedly, before marching toward me proudly and sticking out its leg. I nodded, and reached forward, undoing the string which held the letter. The bird then gave me a satisfied look and flew back out the window, knocking over and breaking a few more of, what now are previously treasured possessions.
Sighing heavily, I turned towards the little scroll in my hands and carefully rolled in open.
Dear Head Master Dumbledore of Hogwarts,
You may not remember me, I was a student so long ago that I can not even remember the year myself, my name is Theresa Lankins and I work for a top secret department in the Ministry of Magic. What my department does is find people across the globe whose powers appeared late and have no magically education (thus they are usually being persecuted in someway for their abilities). I am writing to because I have found such a case in a sixteen year old girl who goes by the name of Becky Sinclair. She has no family and is being treating at a mental asylum in London. She is being treated for psychosis, paranoia, and schizophrenia. It’s a list I know. However, upon speaking with her, and observing her, I discovered she has profound magical abilities. I am of the belief that, with the proper care and training, she can be cured of some of her above issues (some which are non existent as she is not delusional) and become an attribute to the wizarding community. I am asking that you consider accepting her into your school so that she can do so. Please consider.
Sincerely,
Theresa Lankins
Carefully I laid the letter onto my desk beside my letter to Harry. An odd feeling rushing through my veins, the feeling I get when something falls into place. Only I didn’t know what. I would accept Becky Sinclair into Hogwarts, of course, I would move my piece forward in this game of chess and see where it leads. Hopefully to checkmate.
I first met Maria or, as history does and will remember her, the Dark Witch, at the tender age of five accompanying, then second year, Lucius Malfoy in Diagon Alley. She was a lovely child interested in everything that came her way. I remember when her eyes caught mine, despite my being cloaked in invisibility, she stunned me. I still don’t know how she saw me, yet she did. Her oval gray eyes locked onto mine like they were the only thing left in the world.
I remember that upon my return to Hogwarts I looked up everything thing that could possibly answer at least some of the questions that were flying around in my mind. I found nothing. It was the first sign.
Years later I would run across Maria again, under very different circumstances. She was no longer a wonder filled child of five, but an elusive assassin of thirteen and she nearly took my life. Her powers were unlike anything that I had encountered before, they went beyond the wand, and I was frightened. What had Tom done to this poor child?
I assume that she remained a secret weapon of Tom’s for a couple of years after my brush with her. Many unexplained deaths are testimony to that fact. However, her seventeenth year is even more certain in my mind. For it was the year she attended Hogwarts. It was also the year that, I believe, holds all the answers to the numerous questions that have plagued me for years.
I hoped to obtain knowledge of that year from the late Sirius Black, as he had known her better than most in her time here, many moons ago. But he refused to comment, refused to acknowledge her existence at all. And with his recent death at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange, that road has been closed to me.
Remus Lupin, a close friend of Sirius’ and a wary one Maria’s during her stay, was stoic when speaking to me of her, he, like Sirius before him, refused to give me any memories. However, he gave me one piece of information, one shred of a clue, her mother was not human.
It was something that I had suspected all along, but to hear it out loud, and from one who would difinitively knew…music. With this answer, however, came another question. If her mother was not human, then what was she? To this I did not even have a guess of an answer.
I opened my eyes slowly, almost cautiously, as I emerged from my daze of Dark Witch lore, to find myself sitting at my desk. A long feathery quill in my hand straining to touch the blank parchment sprawling out in front of me. I sighed, and placed my empty hand against my overly tensed forehead as I began to write.
Dear Harry,
If it is convenient for you, I shall call at number four, Privet Drive this coming Friday at eleven p.m. to escort you to the Burrow, where you have been invited to spend the remainder of your school holidays.
If you are agreeable, I should also be glad of your assistance in a matter to which I hope to attend on the way to the Burrow. I shall explain this more fully when I see you.
Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping to see you this Friday.
I am, yours most sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
There, my letter to Harry was completed. My plan was set in motion to bring Horace Slughorn back to the grounds of Hogwarts and under my supervision. Horace, though a dear friend, was not entirely to be trusted, and I mean it in the way that he had been holding out on me. There were two memories that I asked him for, one of Tom and one of Maria, and both he gave…after tampering with them of course. My fear now is, that in desperation to erase these memories completely someone, and I do not know who, but someone is out there, will murder him before I have the opportunity to persuade him into re-gifting me those memories, the proper ones this time. So that I can fully educate, not only me, but Harry as well, in what dangers await in the coming days.
“Head master.” Came the rather squeaky voice of Tania Bellings, a head mistress from 1124-1138. I turned my head upwards to look past the numerous paintings the lined the walls of my chamber to the very top where Tania’s petite impish form was smiling down at me.
“Yes, Tania?” I asked politely, “What is it?”
The giggling painting pointed to the direction of the window just behind my right shoulder. I turned hesitantly to look, knowing Tania’s sense of humor, to see an unusually large albatross throwing itself desperately against the glass, a letter strapped to one of his legs. I felt my eyebrows vanish into my hairline as I instinctively reached forward to unlock the window.
Seeing that I was opening the window for him, the large bird stumbled backwards in flight allowing me to push the glass forward, “Come in.” I said courteously, leaning back into my chair. The white albatross, eager to deliver its message, I suppose, flew wildly into the room startlingly some of the previous head masters and mistresses sleeping in their portraits, “Come now,” I began gently, “What do you have for me?”
The bird circled around the room quickly before flying towards me at a unbelievably high speed, crashing landing on my desk, and sending many of my prized objects “flying”. The albatross shook its head, dazedly, before marching toward me proudly and sticking out its leg. I nodded, and reached forward, undoing the string which held the letter. The bird then gave me a satisfied look and flew back out the window, knocking over and breaking a few more of, what now are previously treasured possessions.
Sighing heavily, I turned towards the little scroll in my hands and carefully rolled in open.
Dear Head Master Dumbledore of Hogwarts,
You may not remember me, I was a student so long ago that I can not even remember the year myself, my name is Theresa Lankins and I work for a top secret department in the Ministry of Magic. What my department does is find people across the globe whose powers appeared late and have no magically education (thus they are usually being persecuted in someway for their abilities). I am writing to because I have found such a case in a sixteen year old girl who goes by the name of Becky Sinclair. She has no family and is being treating at a mental asylum in London. She is being treated for psychosis, paranoia, and schizophrenia. It’s a list I know. However, upon speaking with her, and observing her, I discovered she has profound magical abilities. I am of the belief that, with the proper care and training, she can be cured of some of her above issues (some which are non existent as she is not delusional) and become an attribute to the wizarding community. I am asking that you consider accepting her into your school so that she can do so. Please consider.
Sincerely,
Theresa Lankins
Carefully I laid the letter onto my desk beside my letter to Harry. An odd feeling rushing through my veins, the feeling I get when something falls into place. Only I didn’t know what. I would accept Becky Sinclair into Hogwarts, of course, I would move my piece forward in this game of chess and see where it leads. Hopefully to checkmate.