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𝐲/𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 _____________________
THIS is the place.
I close my eyes and the horrible image of Harry screaming, struggling, is all I can see. My heart sinks. This is definitely where that dream had taken place, but was it Harry I was seeing, or was it me under the potion?
"You okay?" Cedric asks in reference to the harsh landing.
As I scurry to my feet, only to come face to face with a large tombstone reading 'Riddle' my breath hitches and I feel like I'm frozen in place.
No. I am not okay.
"Shhh," I silence him, the inkling that we're not alone keeping me on the lookout.
"Where are we?" He asks innocently, ignoring my direction.
"Shhh!" I hiss, louder this time. I turn to face the boy and pull him down to my level. "Quiet! Look, Cedric, I really can't explain it, but. . . I've been here before."
Cedric ponders this for only a moment, before seemingly letting it go and returning to the Triwizard cup. I nearly ask him why he doesn't question me about the fact that I somehow recognize this random graveyard, but then remember that he thinks I'm Harry.
I suppose everybody knows that both Harry's parents are dead, most likely he's just trying to be respectful. Which will have to do, I don't have the time to clear up the reality of the situation to him at this time being.
The glowing, blue object reflects onto Cedric's chiseled features as he studies it. "It's a port-key," he says. "Harry, the cup is a port-key."
"Yeah, yeah," I dismiss. That part I had kind of figured out.
I circle the grave that reads Riddle.
Thomas Riddle 1880-1943 Mary Riddle 1883-1943 Tom Riddle 1906-1943
It feels weird to look at, these people are my ancestors. Without them, I wouldn't be here today. I trace over the names with my finger. They were gone long before I ever existed.
All my life I had been curious of where I had came from. Now that I've seen it, I don't feel the slightest bit different as I thought I would've. To be fair, I don't know what I had been expecting. Knowing my history won't change my present. Still, maybe I needed to see their names, to heal my inner child. The poor little girl who had so many unanswered questions as to where she'd came from.
