Perpetual Mirages

***

"Life is waterfall, then we turn around and put up our walls,"

-- "Aerials," System of a Down

November 1990

Vivian laid in her bed, hands clutching at her forehead. She just had another painful vision, where she was in a courtroom, and her distant Aunt Bellatrix had just been sentenced to life in Azkaban. There was so much emotion in this particular premonition that she could not help but feel ill.

Her hair hung limp around her shoulders, her skin was waxy and pale. She was shaking wildly. A slight knock on her bedroom door felt as if a bomb had exploded outside the foyer. "Go away," she croaked.

Draco opened the bedroom door and took in the pitiful sight of his cousin. "Dad wants to speak to you downstairs," he said, beginning to feel amused.

She groaned again. "Not now," she mumbled, trying to turn over. "I really don't feel well." Draco remained in the threshold, not moving an inch.

"Dobby will get you some water." He paused. "Dad really wants to talk to you." Admitting defeat, Vivian struggled against her sheets and gingerly forced herself out of the safe haven of her bedroom.

Following her cousin down the stairs, she passed the portraits of ancestors and famous relatives. As she trudged down the wooden steps, holding the railing, brightly colored shapes began to spring out from her eyes, and a wave of nausea spread over her, fast and surely. Losing her balance, she slipped and rolled down twenty steps.

Narcissa gasped; Lucius looked merely bored. Draco could hardly contain his laughter as Dobby ran to the aid of his young mistress. "Miss Vivian, is you okay?" he asked, green eyes wide with fear. He helped Vivian to her feet, looking at her with apprehension. "You is giving Dobby an awful fright."

Vivian took a deep breath as the house-elf helped her into an armchair, facing Lucius. "You is having a scraped elbow," Dobby said. "Here, Dobby fixes it." He gently stroked the cut, and she grimaced at being touched. Momentarily, the cut faded back to its normal milky color. He gave her another concerned look and went back to the domains of his kitchen.

"Now then," Lucius said abruptly. Shooting a cold glance at his niece, he mumbled, "no more interruptions if you please." Narcissa shot him a pleading glance, but he didn't seem to catch it. "You're ill because of your visions, right?" This seemed like the topic he was really eager to discuss.

She took a deep breath to regain full consciousness of her whereabouts. "Nice of you to notice," she snapped. "When could you tell, before or after I fell down the stairs?"

Lucius's cold eyes flashed and Narcissa cleared her throat. "Please don't talk to your uncle like that," her aunt said in a small voice. Vivian rolled her eyes. She loved her aunt very much but wished she wouldn't have to get involved. She knew she'd go off on her too if she was angry enough. Lucius spoke again.

"Tell me about your latest vision," he said, his tone becoming notably warmer.

Vivian narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Oh, is that what you want?"

"Don't talk to me like that!" He snarled. Draco, who had long since stopped laughing, was watching intently, mesmerized that his cousin, of all people, had the guts to stand up to his father like that. Dobby was watching, fearfully, from the kitchen. "You know I'm very concerned for you," Lucius lied.

She discreetly covered her surprised snort with a tiny cough. "Tell me your damn vision!" he roared. His beet red face was up against Vivian's and she sank into the chair, feeling herself shake again. "I...I..." she stuttered.

"I was in a courtroom," she said, her tongue feeling thick, "and...and...it was Aunt Narcissa's sister, Bellatrix. She was sentenced to life in Azkaban for torturing the Longbottom couple." Then realization dawned on her. "The Longbottoms...They killed my parents,"

Her uncle nodded, as if this made perfect sense. "You were filled with so much emotion...Fear, vengeful, remorseful...You were so emotion-drained from this image that you fell ill." He pronounced, as if he were a miraculous Healer.

"Really? You think so?" Vivian couldn't help herself. Lucius's chest heaved in and out and he stared at his niece, picking apart this complex ten-year old like a puzzle. There were pieces missing...Pieces long since forgotten...

He summoned Dobby. "Dobby, please help Vivian to her room," With that, and a swish of his cloak, he was gone. Narcissa rushed to some room in the huge mansion, and Draco just sat there, stunned.

"Can Dobby help Miss to her bedroom?" He held out a bony hand, and she took it. Standing up again, all the images came back to her and she closed her eyes tight.

"I think I'm going to be sick," she muttered and ran to the nearest bathroom, where she was thoroughly and completely sick.

Despite her protests, she was present at dinner. Dobby had deposited the plates on the table, quivering under Lucius's menacing glare. Pouring Vivian a new glass of water, he revealed a fizzy pill and tried to drop it in her drink, for hopes that it would make her feel better.

"That's not very wise, Dobby," Lucius snarled, not looking up.

The house-elf took a big gulp and walked--if not ran--back to the kitchen. "Can I be excused?" Vivian asked, knowing the answer.

"You may very well not be excused," he snapped. "You can be dismissed from the table when the rest of the family is done with their meal."

She blinked. "But I don't feel well. I'm not hungry."

"Very well then. You can watch us eat then." Lucius threw her an extremely triumphed smile and she could feel the beginnings of a sarcastic outburst coming, and she struggled with herself to bite her tongue.

Vivian looked to her cousin, who was very discreetly shoving potatoes in his mouth. Dobby watched her from the kitchen, looking depressed and his eyes screamed 'pity.'

Twenty-five minutes later, Lucius saw her almost keeled over again, her forehead was glistening with sweat. "You may leave the table now," he said. Immediately, Vivian bolted up the stairs and to her room. Draco followed suit.

A couple of hours so later, when Vivian had emerged from her nap, she was starting for the kitchen to ask Dobby to fix her a snack, but she saw her aunt and uncle in the family room, in a heated debate. She flew to the hallway, her back against her the wall, hearing every word.

"Look at her Lucius," Narcissa said coldly, a fierce fire in her voice that Vivian had never heard before. Narcissa was usually more reserved, more friendly, never pushy or assured.

She peaked her head around the corner, to see Narcissa staring up at her husband. Lucius's back was to her, and he was grasping his metal stick that he was never seen without. "She's ill and weak and can't function properly," Narcissa continued. "I really must protest. She needs to see a Healer."

"Damn it, Narcissa!" Lucius screamed and he hurled a crystal vase that promptly hit the wall and shattered. "You don't understand do you? You don't fucking understand. How many times did I have to explain it to you? How many times did Avery? And McNair?"

Vivian racked her brain. Those names sounded familiar...Oh yeah, she remembered. Those were Death Eaters too. They knew her parents, and had regaled her with stories of them when they came to visit.

"I understand perfectly. It's just cruel and inhumane. This is your niece we're talking about," Narcissa snapped. Vivian felt her neck hairs get prickly, and her arms go numb. She peeked again, and saw Lucius start to pace the floor.

She could hear Dobby clattering pans in the kitchen, oblivious to the argument that was going on a few rooms away. "Yes, but imagine how I will get rewarded...Beyond my--our--wildest dreams."

Vivian closed her eyes. Rewards. It was about Voldemort, now she knew. "Rewards from the Dark Lord are more precious then the life of your brother's daughter?"

"Desperate times call for desperate measures, Narcissa."

"What would Deron say about this?"

"I believe he would have gone through with it himself. He was more of a supporter then I was. I think he'd have no problem sacrificing Vivian."

She closed her eyes. Oh, God, oh, God. She thought she was going to faint again, but then she'd blow her cover. She willed herself to stay calm and quiet and got down on her hands and knees to hear better. "Lucius-- She's only getting weaker." Narcissa argued.

"Exactly. The weaker she gets, the stronger her premonitions are. Once her premonitions are at the breaking point, she will feel like dying. As soon as this happens, she'll see The Dark Lord resurrecting. We can use her to bring him back."

Narcissa shuddered. "And then what happens to the poor girl?"

"Well, she won't be much use to us. I suppose The Dark Lord would want to use her for the visions, to tell him the future and who's going to betray him and whatnot. If not, he will probably dispose of her."

Vivian felt the blood pound in her ears. She tried to stare at her aunt's face, but all she saw was blurred, fuzzy images. She ran up in the opposite direction, back up the stairs, and into her room. She needed to escape. She needed to run. Frantically, she grabbed for all her belongings.

She grabbed her robes, her teddy bear that she had been with forever, and stuffed them in a trunk. Shaking madly, she began to talk to herself. "I got to get belongings..." She opened her closet door, looking for things that were worthy of taking.

At the very bottom, she found a booklet, whose pages were blank. On the black covering, in gold, the letters read TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE. Not knowing who it was, she figured she could use a companion on her escape, and packed into her trunk along with a bottle of ink and a couple of quills.

Locking her owl in a cage, she opened her bedroom door to find Dobby standing there. "Is Miss going somewhere?" Vivian stared at him, wrinkly, knobby and green eyes looking scared and lonely.

"I'm sorry, Dobby," she said, scooping him in a hug. "You wouldn't understand."

The house-elf's lip began to tremble. "Dobby would understand better then anybody. Is you sure you is being okay? Where are you going?"

Vivian sealed her trunk. "I don't know Dobby, I honestly don't. But I need you to do me one more favor before I leave."

She led him to Draco's door. "I need you to stun him," she instructed the house-elf. Dobby gasped. He shook his head, begging for mercy.

"Please, Miss. Dobby cannot do that, he is Master's son!"

"He was never very nice to you. I need him stunned temporaily because I need his broom to escape. I haven't got one of my own." Dobby sighed, but nodded.

"Miss always was good to me," he said.

She gently opened the door and saw Draco sitting on his bed, reading a Quidditch magazine, where chasers and beaters zoomed happily on the pages. He looked up, noticed her trunk. "Where are you going?" He sneered.

Suddenly, Dobby's form jumped out from virtually nowhere. "Stupefy!" he said almost sadly. Draco stared at him, curious, for the moment before the spell hit him. He laid on his bed, still as stone. Vivian grabbed his broomstick that was at the foot of his bed.

"To escape," she answered.

Dobby followed her out of the room, all distraught about what he just did. "You is getting Dobby in a lot of trouble," he sighed.

Rechecking her belongs, Vivian turned to face her only friend in the house in which she grew up. "No, you won't. You took orders from me. I'm a Malfoy, you have to." She stared at him, trying to muster up some words to say.

"Dobby is loving you very much, Miss Vivian."

She stared at him, not knowing whether she should feel glad that someone had seen through her, or incredibly unhappy because he was living such a pathetic life for an extraordinary creature.

"Come, Dobby," she said.

He took her into the backyard, safely hiding her from Lucius and Narcissa. "You will write to Dobby?" He asked, tears forming in his saucer sized eyes.

"I'll never forget you," she said truthfully. She swung her legs over Draco's Shooting Star and sped higher and higher into the air. She was wiser beyond her years, Dobby realized. She'd done so much without ever seeing the true outside world. "You never have to make my bed again!" She shouted as she finally flew out of sight.

Dobby stood below her, pillowcase sagging around his shoulders.

She wasn't that good at Quidditch, but she loved flying. Vivian felt as if she could do anything fifty feet in the air. The sky had grown black, and her trunk felt heavy under her arm. She had to carry it, because she had no wand to do magic.

Lowering her broom, she guessed she was somewhere in Kent or Bristol. She lowered into a barren field that had lots of trees, so she had somewhere to sleep. She knew this wasn't realistic, she felt like a fugitive, but how could she live in the Manor, knowing that her uncle didn't love her at all, and that her own father would have sacrificed her?

She shoved the trunk to her side, along with the broom. Leaning over it, she felt her fingers grasp what she needed. She pulled out the diary, a quill, and a snack for her owl. Closing her eyes, and leaning her head against the lumber, she wrote:

My name is Vivian Malfoy.

Vivian shrieked as the ink disappeared almost immediately upon having written them, and felt her stomach churn as new words appeared, in a different handwriting.

Hello, Vivian. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come across my diary?

Trembling, she wrote:

I found it at the bottom of my closet. Who are you?

She noticed his answer was taking longer then usual, but surely, he replied:

I wonder how it got there. Like I said before, my name is Tom Riddle. Did you say you were a Malfoy?

Staring at the book, she answered:

Yes, Vivian Malfoy. I was born on January 31, 1980.

Almost instantly, she had an answer.

I know everything about you. I also know your parents were Deron and Leda Malfoy, and they were killed on April 12, 1980 by Frank and Alice Longbottom. You were in the care of your father's brother, Lucius, and his wife Narcissa. They have a son named Draco.

Almost knocking her ink bottle over, she scribbled:

How do you know all of this?

Not knowing if she wanted to know the answer, she read:

You're mine now, Vivian.

Harry Potter awoke from a very strange dream. His room was still dark, and he couldn't see because he didn't have his glasses. He dreamed of a silver-haired girl with a diary, and she was writing intently. He had no idea why, but his scar was prickling as well.

He rubbed it gingerly and shoved the clock close to his face so he could see the red numbers that showed the time. It was two in the morning...Too early to get ready for school...But his head ached so badly...

Putting on his glasses, he could have sworn he saw an owl fly by his window. Weird, he thought. He opened the door of his cupboard and could hear the snores of his relations from upstairs. He walked into the kitchen and flicked on the lights.

Trusting that it was safe, he flicked on the TV, where the late-late news had been playing. "This just in," said the gregarious news anchor. "A girl, from whereabouts unknown, has been reported missing. Said to have silver hair and eyes, any information on this girl can be called to 1-800-MISSING-KIDS. I repeat, a girl with silver hair and eyes is missing. If you have any information on her, you should call 1-800-MISSING-KIDS."

Harry felt increasingly uneasy. This was not the first time he had dreamed weird things. His scar throbbed. Dudley gave another abrupt snore. Hoping for more word on the missing girl, the anchor said, "and now, back to your regularly scheduled program."

He shut off the TV and lights. Trudging back to his cupboard, he tried to ignore the stabbing pains in his forehead.

Severus Snape traced an aged finger on his left forearm. It had not burned in nearly nine years, but tonight...it felt sort of tender to the touch. He looked at it curiously, but it was its dormant, brown color. "Severus?" said a voice behind him.

"Headmaster," he said, slightly bowing.

Albus Dumbledore nodded briefly, but looked concerned. "It's happened."

"No," the Potions master whispered. "Are you certain?"

The white haired man nodded. "Quite. I shall alarm the Order. Do not be surprised, Severus, if your mark feels rather...Weird." Then he left, his purple cloak leaving behind a slight breeze.

Severus shook his head, and hurried in the other direction. He found Professor McGonagall talking with Hagrid. "Minerva, Hagrid," he said shortly.

"Why, Severus, what's the matter?" Professor McGonagall asked, rather alarmed at the unusual magnitude of his brusqueness.

His greasy black locks angled his face untidily. "She's escaped."

Minerva's eyes widened. "Is...Is Albus sure?"

Severus nodded.

"It can't be," Hagrid said, rather loudly, "Harry Potter isn't even here yet. It can't be happening now!"

Minerva clasped her hand to her head. "Hagrid, go to Albus immediately. He'll be needing you. Severus, standby so if your mark burns, I'll be able to reach you. I've got to inform the staff." And she stalked off in the other direction, looking pale.

Vivian stared at the diary, not aware of how much mayhem she had just caused all over the Wizarding world. The diary had won her over, and now they were talking with candor.

No one understands me like you do, Tom.