A Throne of Blood and Stars

Chapter Eighteen

Blaise stops next to her for a second while she swishes the tip of her wand over the brick wall. And without a word, the bricks groan and part, making a doorway so they can pass through.

When they step into the chamber, thousands of embers light the ceiling, and upon closer inspection, Blaise realizes they're crystals. "Professor?"

"The Cave of Reality," Headmistress McGonagall announces.

She smiles at Blaise's awestruck expression as he turns one, two, three times with his jaw hanging. "Wow."

"Amazing, isn't it?"

The Slytherin nods immediately. "I wasn't aware such a place existed."

"You'd be surprised. Now," she says loudly. She walks further into the room and comes to a stop in front of a wall of flat rocks stacked on top of each other. "A Veril is very similar to a Pensieve. It is, in fact, so similar that the Veril was pronounced copyrighted and banned, which is the reason that no one knows what it is."

"What does it do?"

"A Veril allows for a person to review memories, much like the Pensieve. The only difference is, you can view them in another person's point of view."

Blaise's eyes widen. "But, that's..."

"Illegal, I know," Professor McGonagall finishes. "However, seeing as the Veril never made it to the Wizengamot, it is not under the list of Dark Artifacts. Only Legilimency is illegal, which is not exactly what we're doing.

"You see, the person that we would be using for the point of view is unbothered. Completely unaware and unharmed, and their memories remain unchanged and intact. The Veril is used solely for enjoyment."

"I see," Blaise says slowly. "And you have brought me here because..."

"Because I know how hard it is for you to believe that people care about you, my dear boy. I know you believe your only friend is Draco, but believe me when I say you are sorely mistaken."

Blaise frowns. "And, what? Is this supposed to be therapeutic?"

"Of sorts," Professor McGonagall grins. "Would you like me to preview it for you?"

The Slytherin remains silent for a few seconds, then nods.

"Excellent," she whispers. She lifts her hands and rubs them together, and with the wave of her finger the rocks before her shift and move, until there's a steady stream of water flowing through a crack at the top.

Headmistress McGonagall places her hand flat on the wall next to the waterfall and stares at the flowing water. Within a second there's a flicker of color, a shower of sparks and a bright picture of a young boy in blue overalls.

He's in a field of yellow flowers, twirling and jumping with his arms spread out, a big smile on his face. Blaise's heart skips a beat when he recognizes the fields of his family farm back in Italy, and the little boy is himself when he was around five years old. There's something different about it, though.

Blaise turns to the Headmistress with wide eyes. "How..."

"That is your memory, from your mother's point of view. Very happy, that one."

"How did you do that?"

"The Veril, Mr. Zabini," she starts with a gentle smile. "Allows us to see what others see in us. A true blessing hidden from the world. I'm sure you remember the flowers in the field were actually blue. Your mother, however, held so much happiness in that moment, that she altered her own memory of it with how strong she felt that emotion."