Mask of Oblivion

MASK OF OBLIVION

Chapter 1 - The Rational Man

It was a large cavern, dimly lit by flaming torches in the walls. He was lying on the ground in torment in the middle of a circle of sinister figures. There were no gaps in the circle, no way of escape.

They were all dressed identically in black cloaks with hoods over their heads and white masks covering their faces. All but one. The face in front of him was a nightmarish vision of pale skin stretched tautly over bone, with thin gashes for a mouth and nostrils. It would have been the face of a dead man if not for the burning red eyes of a demon blazing directly at him.

"How dare you, you foolish wizard," the pale face contorted with rage, "did you think my faithless servant that you could betray me and I would not find out? That you could escape the punishment you deserve? I have been merciful to you for too long. "

The demon figure in front of him raised one skeletal hand clasping a wooden wand. The malice and intent in those bright red eyes was unmistakable. He knew he was going to die. Crouching in pain with one arm around his chest, he felt for his own wand on the ground beneath him. His hands trembling terribly he barely had the strength to hold it.

"And now you fool, goodbye."

He focused moved from the red eyes, to that arm rising almost in slow motion and then to the wand pointing directly at him.

"Avada Kedavra".

With a loud roaring sound a blinding flash of green light shot towards him. The power that was released with that curse made it impossible to hear the words coming from his mouth. He began to feel dizzy, ice cold and nauseous. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach and he felt like he was falling and spinning over the edge of a bottomless pit, falling and spinning forever.

Simon woke suddenly. He was covered in sweat, his pulse racing. His wife was sitting up in bed beside him with one hand on his shoulder. By the dim light filtering through the curtains he could see the signs of concern clearly visible on her face.

"You were screaming again," she said in a frightened tone, "was it another one of those horrible nightmares?"

He sat up struggling for breath. "Yes, but a little different. There was a green flash of light," he said in a perplexed tone.

"You should go back to the psychiatrist if the dreams are getting worse;" she said tentatively, "maybe talking about the details in the dreams to a professional will provide some answers"

He jumped out of the bed in anger and swung round to face her. His eyes gleamed angrily in the deep shadows on his face.

"Talking to the shrinks got me nowhere before and I don't see how that will change," he said fiercely, "besides these dreams are just nonsense, wizards, wands, werewolves & curses, it's children's fantasy stuff"

Simon Smith was a practical, rational sort of man. Everything had to be judged against logic and scientific fact. There was no room in his world for fantasy or the supernatural. He was tall and almost aesthetically lean. Simon had pale cream coloured skin with jet black hair and dark brown eyes that provided a startling contrast.

Although he was nearly fifty, he was proud of the fact that his hair still showed remarkably few streaks of gray. He always wore it sleek and clean and brushed back into a neat pony tail that ended between his knife sharp shoulder blades. This was the most flamboyant thing about Simon's appearance and probably his whole life.

He started his career in banking later than most men. But after less than fourteen years service he was already manager for a fairly large branch in one of the more affluent suburbs of London. Respected and feared by his peers and subordinates alike for his sharp and sarcastic mind, he had colleagues with whom he socialized, but few real friends. This did not concern him as he was by nature fairly reserved and socializing was something that he did only because it was good for his career or because of his wife.

All Simon's softness and shows of emotion were reserved for his wife and daughter. Simon had been married to Anne for twelve years. She was a social worker and in his private opinion far too flighty and emotional.

The relationship could be kindly described as dynamic. The combination of two diametrically different personalities guaranteed that while there was definitely passion, there was also frequent conflict. Their biggest dramas were usually over Simon's dreams or now increasingly over their daughter.

Simon probably would not have bothered getting married, except for two things. It was better for his career to have a wife and of course he believed that children need married parents for stability.

Isabella Anne Smith was the shining light of Simon's life. At the age of ten years and eleven months, Bella, as she was more commonly called, was already a junior female version of her father - a skinny little girl with pale skin, black hair in a shoulder length bob and deep dark brown eyes.

There was just one problem with Simon's darling daughter. Funny things happened around Bella when she was angry or emotional. Things would start to move around the house and glass and china objects including windows had been known to crack.

Her mother had suggested they get a medium in the house to check for poltergeist activity, which Simon vetoed as he reasoned there had to be a logical rational explanation, although after ten years he had not yet found one. And of course there were some really unexplainable incidents, for example the pink & white party dress that turned green and black overnight.

It was a fine sunny morning, the kind of late spring morning that holds a real promise of summer in the air. Having shaved, showered and attired himself appropriately in a black suit, white shirt and green tie, Simon was ready to face his day with the terrors of his nightmares pushed firmly to the back of his mind. Supernatural nonsense had no place in the life of Simon Smith and his small family and that was not going to change. He did not know how wrong he was.

Simon descended the steps to the hallway of their comfortable, restored villa. As always the mail was already awaiting him in a small untidy pile on the door mat. He picked it up and straightened all the envelopes as usual and started to pre-sort them as he walked into the kitchen.

There were all the standard items, bills, receipts and charity requests. But right at the bottom of the pile this morning was a very different envelope. Simon could not remember ever seeing an envelope so peculiar. It was a little larger than normal and appeared to be made of a fancy creamy yellow parchment paper folded over. On the front in bright green ink and an extravagantly flowing script it was addressed to -

Miss Isabella Smith

The second bedroom

Number 24B Cannon Close

Chatham

Greater London

Simon turned it over looking for a return address, but the only thing on the back was a large black wax seal holding the letter shut and marked with a heraldic crest of some sort.

Despite the fact that school holidays had started two weeks ago, both Bella and Anne were already in the kitchen ready for breakfast. In the Smith household meal times were important and the three of them always sat down together for meals if they were all home.

"Princess, there's a letter for you. Looks like it could be a party invitation. Were any of your friends due to have a birthday during the holidays?" he asked curiously as he held out the large envelope.

"No, Dad. The only birthday coming up is mine." Bella held up the envelope and looked at it cautiously.

They sat down and Simon poured his morning coffee and started his breakfast of toast & jam. Bella just sat there looking at the letter as if it might bite her.

Anne couldn't help herself, "well, open it dear. Don't keep us all in suspense. I am dying to see what it is."

Bella pushed her plate aside and picked the letter up again. After looking at it front and back she carefully broke the seal and unfolded the parchments with in. The expression on her face went from curious, to confused to totally perplexed as she read down the page.

"Mum, Dad, you both better have a look at this," she said as she held the top piece of parchment out to them.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft &Wizardry

Headmistress Minerva McGonagall (Order of Merlin, First Class)

Dear Miss Smith

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1^st September. We are aware that you and your parents will be somewhat surprised by this offer and a member of staff will visit with you tonight to explain the details

Yours sincerely Sirius Black

Deputy Headmaster.

Anne's' face quickly matched the perplexed look on her daughter's, but Simon's eyes narrowed and he started to scowl. He turned to his wife with his eyes on fire.

"What have you been telling your family about my dreams, Anne? This is surely some silly joke of your good for nothing brother? Is he making fun of me at Bella's expense?" he inquired fiercely

"I have not told anyone about your dreams," said Anne, "and I doubt this is a joke, look at the quality of the paper."

"Oh, come on!" he sneered, "a school for witches, it has got to be a joke there are no such things as witches and wizards, only in books and some poor peoples' fevered imaginations."

"And in your dreams?" Anne said softly, so that hopefully Isabella would not hear.

Simon stood up suddenly his face clouded with anger and fear.

"For goodness sake woman, enough is enough. What could my nightmares possibly have to do with this crazy letter?" Simon stormed out of the kitchen grabbed his coat and bag from the hall and left the house in one mad rush slamming the door shut behind him. He charged down the street at a half run as if trying to escape from something and did not stop until he reached the train station. A short ride and he would be at work. In the real sane world of credits and debits, loans and deposit account's, far away from crazy talk of schools for witches and wizards.