The Great War ⏤ Harry Potter

Prologue: June, 1995

The Great Hall is devoid of colour. The expansive room is lifeless, draped in black ⏤ a painful reminder that Hogwarts has lost one of its brightest and golden students only a week ago. A young man's life cut tragically short under mysterious circumstances that has remained tight-lipped since Harry Potter reappeared from the maze cradling the cup in one hand and Cedric Diggory's lifeless body in the other.

The last day of school is subdued, the usual jubilant celebration of another year finished shrouded by grief in the vast hole Cedric Diggory has left behind. Magdalena Valor sits at the Ravenclaw table alongside her two friends, pale-faced and dark circles under her eyes. She fits in with the pallid complexion and mournful expressions of those at the Hufflepuff table who sit without their Quidditch Captain. Even the yellow of their ties are dimmed, as though Cedric's death has muted the normally bright colour.

On the other end of the Ravenclaw table, Cho cries into a tissue, flanked by her friends. Her eyes have been rimmed red and her skin a ghostly pallor for the past week. The girl is a shell of her former self, now eroded with grief. Magdalena looks away, bile rising in her throat as guilt crashes into her. She can See ⏤ see trivial things like Jade tripping over her feet in two days or that her aunt and uncle will welcome a baby girl into the family ⏤ but her ability didn't allow her to see that Cedric Diggory would die. What use did this ability have if she couldn't see something as important as that?

A sharp pain splits across her forehead, causing Magdalena to flinch. It is a reminder of her interrupted sleep last night. Beside her, Aimee takes her hand and squeezes. Last night, Magdalena had one of her visions; all that she can remember is a bright green light and the sound of a voice akin to a slithering snake. The voice was cold and struck a chord of fear in her. It rattled her enough that she had remained awake for the rest of the night, curled up in an armchair in the common room, staring at nothing until the sun came up. A persistent chill followed her all day; not even sitting in the courtyard underneath the late June sun was able to penetrate the chill that she felt.

That same chill wraps its arms around Magdalena's body as Professor Dumbledore takes centre stage in the Great Hall. All eyes become transfixed on him as he begins to speak. His voice fills the expansive room. "I must acknowledge the loss of a very fine person who should be sitting here enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand and raise your glasses to Cedric Diggory." Professor Dumbledore raises his goblet.

Wooden benches scraping against stone as every person stands ⏤ Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Slytherin, Beauxbaton, Durmstrang ⏤ echoes, "Cedric Diggory." The goblet in Magdalena's hand wobbles and she hopes nobody notices.

Magdalena sits down on wobbly legs, her headache worsening. It is suffocating, being in this large room draped in black where she is slapped in the face with the realisation that she could have helped Cedric, but didn't. Why didn't she See something? is a common question that has been looping through her mind the moment Cedric's lifeless body was brought back onto the school grounds. I could have helped him I could have helped him I could have helped him replays like a broken record, largening that knot that has made itself home in the pit of her stomach. She longs to get up and run away, out of this room and into the fresh air. To be able to fill her lungs with fresh air and feel the sunlight warm her skin. To not look at her classmate and feel immense guilt every time she catches her sobbing.

"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord Voldemort," Professor Dumbledore announces forlornly.

Magdalena's head swims as Aimee whispers "what?" and Jade clamps a hand over her mouth in shock. The last jigsaw piece slots into place and the picture becomes clear in her mind. The voice in her vision last night was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. He is back and she had a vision of the same man her parents feared when he was in power years ago, when she was a baby and the story of the Valor twins was still fresh.

Panic seizes in her throat, wrapping its claws around it and squeezing, cutting off her oxygen supply. Magdalena has to force a breath out of her lungs as lightheadedness clouds her senses and the walls are caving in all around her. She wraps a hand around the chain of her necklace, the cold metal biting her flushed skin in an attempt to ground herself.

Blood rushes in her ears and she doesn't register the words that are coming out of Professor Dumbledore's mouth. Her world has been narrowed to the ringing in her ears and the realisation that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned.

He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back. I had a vision of him last night. Those two thoughts circle in her brain, looping around like race cars on a track. It does the opposite of calming her down, instead working herself up even more.

Professor Dumbledore utters Harry Potter's name and hundreds of eyes descend onto the fourth year. Magdalena's eyes follow the source of everybody's attention. She isn't listening to Professor Dumbledore as she stares at The Boy Who Lived. Who stopped a powerful dark wizard while Magdalena's parents shielded her away in fear of that very dark wizard finding out about their baby's ability.

It comes all at once. That bright green light she saw in her vision belonged to Harry Potter. The green was the colour of his eyes, hidden behind his glasses. Why she had a vision of him, Magdalena cannot say. What it leads to, she is unsure. What she does know is that with time, she will find those answers out. Whether she likes it or not is something else entirely.

Right now, Magdalena knows this; having visions about The Boy Who Lived and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in the same night means her life has gotten infinitely more complicated.