The Ghosts In My Head

Author's Note:I want to thank Aieshya/Abby for being the greatest beta anyone could ask for, and Cassandra Claire, Lori, and the rest of The POU group, as well as AngieJ and the Paradise group, for directing me, however indirectly, to this site.

  In this lovely first chapter we get an introduction to my character-Ariadne.We find out what her life was like growing up, her life four or five years before Voldemort fell, and how she ties into Potter Land.Also, there is a woman in great pain...it may not make sense now, but it will soon.I promise.
On with the fic:

Blood.

There is blood on my hands.How odd.

Why is there blood on my hands?All I did was touch my stomach-- oh.Oh dear.I look down.  

Blood on my stomach.And-- what's this?The handle of- of a dagger?Uh-oh.

I struggle to pull the dagger out, but it refuses to budge.With a mighty tug it comes loose, and I let it fall to the floor.It clatters on the white marble of the foyer.The floor is cold as I collapse, too weak to stand anymore.

I put my hand back on my stomach, trying to heal myself.I close my eyes and will the wound to close.I have done it so many times before-- why should this time be any different?

But it is different. This time the wound refuses to heal under my touch.The absence of the usual yellow light that comes from my hand assures me of this, and I realize that I must be too weak to heal.

I vaguely hear the voice of my oldest child as he stands over me.I open my eyes to see his blurry face; his blue eyes and wand are the only things that are clear.He touches my face, and I'm startled by its warmth.I am so cold.

"Don't worry Mum," he says."I'll get you help."He presses his warm lips to my forehead.

He takes his hand off my cheek, and I shiver.His face is no longer in my range of sight, so I close my eyes again.

I have never heard my son sound so unsure of himself.

* * * * *

It was a glorious day outside--and why shouldn't it be?After all, not only had Ariadne just gotten her heart broken, she had just learned that her exam to get into the Polviety School for Healers and Magical Medicine was only a week away, and she had yet to begin studying.She had spent the past three years as an apprentice, trying to win her instructor's favor.It didn't help that Ariadne went weak at the sight of blood.It made sense that the day would want to mock her.

 

But what choice did she have?What else could she do with her life?Healing was the only gift she possessed...her only talent.Well, she could duel pretty well, but being an Auror was definitely out the question, especially with her brother doing-being-what he was...no, she couldn't be an Auror; she was trying to gain favor with her family, not lose it. 

Healing was a gift that ran on her father's side of the family.She had been taught at a young age how to properly control and use her powers, and she was quite the healer.Polviety had been rather impressed with her application, and the recommendation from her instructor, which, to Ariadne's surprise, had been full of praise.

She needed to get into this school.It was the only way.After all, she couldn't live off her inheritance forever...most of it had gone to her older brother, anyway.He could live off the inheritance if he needed to, which was doubtful.He was a brilliant man with a high aptitude for potions that gave him many job options--alchemistry, potion tester, inventor--and an even higher aptitude for the Dark Arts, which had pleased her parents so much that they left nearly everything they had to him, forgetting their other child, whose own attempts at Dark magic had not been nearly as successful.

But Ariadne had never really minded that her parents couldn't stand her.Her father, a dabbler in the Dark Arts, and a high Ministry official in his time, rarely had time for either of his children or wife, so it was often just the two children and their mother.Her mother, a good, middle class, Pureblood wife, stayed at home and ordered the house elf around, whilst training her children to be carbon copies of their parents before them.Both parents were from old, Pureblood, Slytherin families.Her father's family had had money beyond their dreams at one point; a man a couple of generations back had lost nearly all of it gambling.

Neither child had quite turned out the way their mother had hoped.Ariadne's brother had experimented with Dark magic on his own, and when he was old enough he and their father would go into a locked room and practice.Afterwards Ariadne would be called upon to heal her brother's wounds, for she was not only a better healer than him, he was too physically drained of energy to heal.

Ariadne had only once been invited to join them.She had been fifteen at the time, and the best dueler in her year.Her father had suggested that she duel her brother.Not thinking that Dark magic would be involved, she readily agreed, emotionally thrown by the chance to impress her father.

The duel had started out fine enough.The niceties had been observed; they had bowed, and faced each other, wands level.Ariadne had gotten in the first curse, which was easily deflected back at her, and she was able to block it and cast another one.The duel continued in this fashion until her brother, growing tired of the contest, carelessly flicked his wand and sent a curse at her that Ariadne knew was of the Dark Arts.She hadn't the experience to block it, so she had jumped out of the way, ducking behind her father's desk chair.

She had then sent one of the only Dark curse she knew towards her brother, who made no move to block it.It had hit him, but not done anything harmful. Her brother simply stood there as the curse dissipated around him. Her brother and father had laughed as Ariadne disarmed her opponent with a quick, "Expelliarmus!" She stood, throwing his wand back.

Still laughing, her father had actually spoken, though he wasn't complimenting her on her ability to beat someone older and more experienced than her in a duel.No, he had spoken of her inability to perform the Dark Arts.

"I suppose your sister just doesn't have to stomach for the Dark Arts, my boy.I'm lucky that I have such a capable son then, eh?"

Her brother had nodded, and turned to practice with his father again.Ariadne had quietly slipped out of the study and into the backyard, where she had sat with her cat and cried, something she rarely ever did.

Her brother had gone on to join the rising Dark Lord once he had finished his primary school training, along with taking a job at the Ministry, testing potions.

Once done with her primary school training, Ariadne went and apprenticed with one of the top healers in the area, Jack Burden, and now, at twenty, was counting on getting into Polviety.Her parents wouldn't be there to be proud of her as her father had died when she was eighteen; her mother, a few months later of grief.

Yet Ariadne couldn't bring herself to skip her parents' funerals...perhaps it was because she and her brother had reconciled their differences by that point, and she knew that he would want her there.Or it might have been that her boyfriend at the time had convinced her to go.Those had been relatively good times, when she had been with Remus Lupin.

* * * * *

Pressure.Someone is touching me.My eyes fly open.

My youngest child sits next to me, knees tucked under her, her hand in my open palm."Mummy?" she says quietly, softly.

 

I want so badly to answer her; to tell her I love her, that she's my little baby girl, the only one of my brood of five that looks just like me.I want so badly to get those words out!

Oh, but I can't!All I can manage is a spluttering, gasping noise that I know scares my little girl even more than the hole in my stomach.She pulls her hand away, and I see that it too is stained with my blood.

I am left cold again.

She begins to cry loudly, and tears stream down her face.

Oh, don't cry my angel!Don't cry, darling. Not for me!

* * * * *

No, there would be no more happy days with Remus Lupin for Ariadne.

Good old Remus, with his sandy hair and deep coffee eyes, eyes that were older than the moon.

Clever Lupin, wise as an owl, always the logical one, the mediator.

Tricky Moony, always up for a good adventure, with his unconvincing lies and wonderful schemes.

Ariadne had known Remus Lupin since she was eleven, and had heard of him even before then: her brother was not particularly fond of the scrawny, pale, sickly looking boy.Mysterious Remus, always gone, never the same excuse.

Tired Lupin, circles under his eyes, falling asleep in class.

Dangerous Moony, afraid of the full moon, changing beneath the light.

At Hogwarts she knew him as one of the Gryffindors that lived to terrorize her brother and his friends. His little group: James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus, and Peter Pettigrew.Where one was, the other three couldn't be far.

He was smart too- sometimes Ariadne wondered why he hadn't been put in Ravenclaw.

He was always disappearing for days at a time, sometimes two, sometimes three.Ariadne's brother had been curious as to just where Remus went every time her went away, and Ariadne didn't learn why until years later.

She hadn't really gotten to know Remus very well until they were out of Hogwarts.He was an Auror, but she hung around them all the time, just to anger her mother.

Ariadne was friends with Lily Evans, who in turn was friends with Remus, so she knew him as a mere acquaintance, a friend-of-a-friend.

And then her brother had joined the Death Eaters, and everything had changed.

Ariadne no longer could sleep at the home she shared with her brother, the home he was so kind to share with her, as she had no money.

Her home was always overrun with her brother's "friends," friends that wanted to sleep with her, especially after their meetings with the Dark Lord.They were always more...aroused then.

So Ariadne began to sleep at Dinah Banks' house.

* * * * *

Two sets of hands are on my shoulders, and they pull me up so that I am leaning against the stairs.I slump back down, so they hold me up.

They sit, and I see flashes of black hair. I know it must be the twins.

The troublemakers of the family, one male, one female.One is never far apart from the other; they go together, like cold weather and butterbeer.

"Is she dead?"

His twin puts her head on my stomach.It presses on my wound.I am filled with even more pain.

But her head is warm, and I don't want her to take it away.

"No," my oldest daughter says, "she's breathing."

Her head leaves.

My son sighs with relief.

I am cold.

I can't think.All I know is the cold.I turn my head slightly, wanting to see their faces.

The boy has his back against the stairs, as I am, a pained expression on his face as he bites down on his lower lip.

His twin sister is on my other side, holding my baby girl.My baby is still sobbing and gasping.The older girl has her lips pressed to the younger's forehead.

My twin children, always so happy, always laughing.

They are not laughing now.

 

Well, that was bright and cheery, eh?If you hadn't noticed, the woman that was stabbed is Ariadne.Can you guess who her brother is?It's a bit obvious...