MAGIANIMA // Hermione Granger

This Was How It Ended (Nightmare)

It was dark, a streak of moonlight pouring through the opening Amaya had made in the blinds of the window just beside the cot baby Atlas and her little lion doll lay, tiny hands reaching to grab the mobile that idly hummed and twirled above her, playing a tune long since turned haunting and demented by what proceeded its sound. A playful coo came from the crib and suddenly Amaya was leaning over the edge of the white cot, the baby's bed ornamented with stickers and decorated in messy drawings by drunk Marauders, who'd stumbled in and sobbed adoringly over Atlas's cot.

Now was not a time to reminisce, however, Atlas knew how this would play out, a look of grief and longing on her face as she watched from the corner of the room, scarred face morphed into a painful grimace as she waited, arms crossed and back pressed against her childhood bedroom wall. It was the same as it always was when she fell asleep. The same setting, same lion doll, same memory, same tune playing scratchily in the background. The music of her monster.

The scene started with a sound like cracking thunder and then it was there, they were there, stood in the darkest corner of the room, she could see him now, she never could before. Peter Pettigrew stood in the corner of the room, sunken eyes, a pale face, his blue eyes glinting in the moonlight. There was no hatred, no true reason, only fear in the coward's soul. At first, Atlas had found it jarring, seeing him so clearly in her memories but it soon became customary and all she felt towards him now was resentment.

Then, there was the other form, the misted being of darkness, the one with glowing white eyes, hands that ended in claws and a height that rivalled her own. Now that form, it kindled the hatred she had always known and she found some sort of relief in the anger that overwhelmed her. This was what she knew, this feeling without a trace of sadness. It looked around the room, the pale orbs of its face that acted as eyes swivelling around appraisingly. Atlas just watched, gaze flicking to the floor. She may not be able to escape the nightmare but she could at least turn away.

"So this...is where you've been hiding?" It gestured to the room, its voice distorted so horribly it sent chills down Atlas's spine. "I must thank Wormtail for guiding me here...I never would have found you otherwise."

"Peter?" Amaya muttered, shaking her head. Her words had always been muffled, always blurred and Atlas wished they had stayed that way because the hurt, betrayal and pain in her mother's voice. It haunted her life beyond her nights.

"Ammy, I'm sorry--"

"Don't. Don't call me that," Amaya snapped. "What do you want...? Why -- why are you here?"

"For you," the Monster replied cooly. "How long has it been? Two years? Since you turned your back on me?"

"I'm not going anywhere with you, I've already alerted the Order, you best leave if you know what's good for you," Amaya spat, glaring up into the pale balls of pure white.

"What's good for me, huh? Since when have you cared what's good for me?" It went over to a shelf, plucking a book up from its spot and reading it over. "If you cared about what was good for me, I wouldn't be like this."

Amaya laughed slightly, "Oh yeah, and how is the curse doing? Does she ever take control? Do you find yourself split between two souls? You're sick and twisted one versus her melancholic one?"

"She's the one who wanted to come here actually, you have something of hers. A plaything of mine."

"I'd give her back to her if she was corporeal but never to you, you'd only abuse her. And she is no plaything, how dare you, she's a conscious soul,"  Amaya spat, looking genuinely angered.

"Not a living breathing one though, she died aeons ago, she's nothing more than a weapon now, collecting dust."

"You Monster!"

"Merlin, Amaya, why are you doing this? Can you not just listen to me for once?"

"You lost that privilege eternities ago."

"I never had it in the first place!" The room shook, the windows shattering and raining glass upon the floor, Atlas moved to shield the younger version of herself, already feeling the tears building up in her eyes as she watched the pieces glide through her and spatter upon her younger figure. She knew this was going to be a hard one. "Peter! Get out!"

"But--!"

"Go!"

"Yes, o-of course."

"You're a traitor, Pettigrew! A rat!" Amaya cried, teeth gritted as the plump form of Peter turned into ash as he hit the threshold of Atlas's bedroom door. Now it was just the three of them, Atlas, Amaya and the Monster. "Why are you here? What do you want?"

"Answers."

Atlas hated how all she heard at that moment was a distorted version of her own voice. Answers. Just answers, Nothing else, nothing more. So why did the monster end up killing Amaya? Why did it not kill her? Why? More questions. More bloody questions. Static filled her ears so Atlas tried to read her mothers lips. It's why she'd learnt the skill, so she could understand the muted words of her silenced nightmares. But the Monster did not have a mouth, so Atlas couldn't see the words spewing from its tongue.

Suddenly, the pale white of its eyes flickered to gold, it was momentary, but it was there, revealing a glint of humanity beneath the mist as the Monsters gaze settled on Atlas's crib. Atlas startled, her larger, grown form backing away from where she stood over her own childhood cradle, breath catching in her throat when those eyes glanced up to her. Her. Not baby her. Her. The real her.

"I could help you," it remained to stare at her, Atlas holding her breath and releasing it only when it turned and finally looked back at Amaya. "The both of you. Do this for her...for Atlas. The Dark Lord would raise her as his right hand, I can assure you."

"And that's exactly why I won't...I'd rather die than give her to him," Amaya said, pushing her hand against mist. She made contact, she actually made contact with the shadowy being, her hand did not fall through, instead, the Monster stumbled back.

"Why do you insist on hurting me?"

"You're hurting yourself."

"Raise your wand..."

Atlas hated this part. She really, really hated this part.

"I'm not fighting you," Amaya declared, tears falling from her face as the shadowed monster pulled a long stick of voidal black wood from its cloak of darkness, raising it slowly.

"Raise it!"

"No."

"Raise your wand, Amaya!"

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You've already hurt me!"

"Put down your wand..."

"You left me!"

"I'm sorry..."

"How could you do that to me!?"

Atlas closed her eyes, sliding down the wall with her hands over her ears as she heard herself, some past version of herself wailing and sobbing, the lights flickering on and off until the bulb burst and rained hot glass upon Amaya and the Monster.

"You wouldn't leave them, I asked you to come with me."

"No! No! No! That's not right! That's not how it happened!"

"Yes, it is! I offered you my hand but you turned away! You always turned away!"

"No! No! No!"

This was it. This was how it ended. The blast. The screams. The blood. The claws.