ruins ; harry potter [1]

twenty five ; into the past (part 1)

[ gif of vera ]

Sometimes, when Diana wasn't feeling okay, she'd look at the veins on the back of her hand.

Blood, she'd think, is full of hemoglobin and white blood cells that protect her from disease and red blood cells that carry oxygen, keeping her alive even when sometimes, she didn't want to be. And then, she'd remember that her blood contains iron. The same iron that is formed in the core of a dying star.

She'd just concentrate on the fact that the thing in something dying is something that is keeping her alive. She'd think that she is made of atoms that have come from stars and she shares atoms that once made dinosaurs. It would help her remember that she is here, and alive, and capable, and that she is as strong as the iron in her blood, as strong as the iron in the star. She was made of metal armor forged from the galaxy and she will not break.

This was what she was thinking of now, seated in her usual chair in Dumbledore's office mere days after the students had arrived. She hasn't slept since the night before September first. She had been living like a ghost, drifting through the castle like she had no purpose, no life to define, and she felt like she was wading through water. Her arms ached and her legs refused to move normally when she walked.

"How have the nightmares been?"

She could hear the ticking of the clock behind them. She counted nine seconds.

"I wouldn't know. Haven't slept since we last talked about them."

He frowned slightly, peering at her over his half-moon spectacles as if she was a bomb ready to blow, and he had only little time to diffuse it.

"Have you had any more hallucinations?"

She shook her head. Thankfully, since the night she saw the Quidditch pitch burning, she hadn't seen anything like that. She counted seventeen seconds of silence.

"I'd like to show you something," Dumbledore said, his voice loud in the thick silence. "A memory, from a long time ago."

"A memory of what?" she asked.

"Your mother and father."

Without another word, he strode to the cabinet containing the Pensieve and threw it like a disk toward the desk and it floated lazily over, settling itself on the desk at once. He pulled out a memory, as well, a little vial of silver strands of thought. The vial looked as if it hadn't been touched in years.

He strode back over, pouring the strands into the Pensieve and swirling it lightly with his wand.

"I obtained this memory from a reformed Death Eater. He had devised a plan that would help in the downfall of Voldemort. He had come to me, merely days before Voldemort killed him, and gave me this vial."

He gave one last hearty stir of the Pensieve and tucked his wand back into his robe.

"This Death Eater was Regulus Black."

It was like the air had been knocked out of her lungs. Her eyes welled with tears but she refused to let them escape as her hands began to shake slightly.

"Did--did Sirius know?" she whispered.

An expression of sorrow showed on Dumbledore's face as he gave a light shake of his head. "Regulus made me promise to keep it a secret. He didn't want anyone getting hurt because of his information."

"This plan...what was it?"

Dumbledore gave a dry chuckle. "I ask myself the same thing every day. He refused to reveal anything to me, even after he had given me this memory and I promised to keep it a secret."