Obliviate My Heart {Book 2}

1. Who Was She?

A/N I own no characters except: The Oswin family, Rory, Kayley, Gennie, Cole and Alia! I planned out this story last night, and we have an awesome and exicting road ahead for this story! Anyways enjoy chapter one :) 

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I sat bolt up-right, my heart beating as if I'd just been sprinting. My vague dream was swirling around my mind like soup, my scar on my left wrist burning. It was like somebody had dipped my wrist into a fire.

I squinted and tried to put my contact lenses in. On the third try, I got them in. With my vision clearer, I turned on the light beside my bed. I released that it was actually morning now, but the old and faded fairy lamp by my bed gave me a sense of comfort.

I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror opposite my bed, and I didn't look any different from when I went to bed last night. My hair had settled into it's new dark brown, but my cheeks were wet--as if I had been crying.

I examined the lightning bolt scar that rested on my wrist. It was throbbing, but looked vaguely normal. Instead, I decided to concentrate on re-calling my dream.

There was an old house.... I know Voldemort and Wormtail were there... But they weren't the centre of my dream. There had been a person stood over a red-haired girl... The two of them seemed oddly familiar, as if they were old friends.

But this person.... Had killed the poor ginger haired girl. She had been begging for her life, but they wouldn't allow it. They had killed her with the curse that had taken my parents away from me...

One word stood out in the girl's plea for her life. "Traitor." That's what she had called her killer. Could it possibly mean that the traitor Sirius had once spoke of had killed this girl?

The details were hazy, but I knew that my scar had started to burn when she was killed, and the tears were... me mourning her?

The idea seemed stupid, as I didn't even know the girl... I felt bad that she was killed, but I couldn't mourn her. I had to know her in order to mourn.

But there had been more before the girl's death. But trying to remember was like trying to keep water in your hands. They had been planning somebodies death via Lord Voldemort... Me!

I took my face out of my hands, and opened my eyes from concentration, and stared around my childhood bedroom as though expecting to see something unusual there.

As it happened, there was an extraordinary number of unusual things in this room. A large wooden trunk stood open at the foot of my bed, revealing a cauldron, broomstick, black robes, and assorted spellbooks.

Rolls of parchment littered that part of my desk that was not taken up by the large photo collage of my life up until now. I had photos of my Hogwarts friends lying by the side of it; ready to transfer into my new photo-album that Alia had bought me for my birthday.

 On the floor beside my bed a book lay open; I had been reading it before I fell asleep last night. The pictures in this book were all moving. Women in bright emerald green robes were zooming in and out of sight on broomsticks, throwing a red ball to one another.

I walked over to the book, picked it up, and watched on of the witches score a spectacular goal by putting the ball through a fifty-foot-high hoop. Then I snapped the book shut. Even Quidditch -- in my opinion, the best sport in the world -- couldn't distract me at the moment. I placed Flying with the Harpies on my bedside table, crossed to the window, and drew back the curtains to survey the street below.

Pond Close looked like an average suburban street would appear in the early hours of a Saturday morning. There wasn't a living soul on the street, not even my strange cat Minnie.