Elizabeth Anne Riddle [Book 1] (A Harry Potter Fan-fiction){COMPLETE}

Department of Mystries

          April came and went and the first day of May finally arrived. Remilda and I had been packed for months. Father had approved us to leave early to the manor. We sat through potions and stayed after.
           Snape wouldn't be at the ministry tonight but he was helping us. He handed us a dish of floo powder. He fire place had just been placed a month ago for this very reason. I threw the powder in first.
        "Malfoy Manor!" I shouted clearly, my bag in hand. Snape would send our trunks later. I fell onto the floor of the drawing room. I pulled myself up and dusted ash and soot from my robes. Remilda tumbled out seconds after me and I helped her stand. My father apparated with a large cloud of black smoke.
     "Lets get this started," was all he said. He pushed me to the door, forcing me to leave Remilda alone. I left to explore the manor on my own. Narcissa was seated in the kitchen with Bellatrix. They gave me smiles and waved to them. When my father hadn't returned the night he killed Harry's parents they took care of me. Once Dolohov's family moved me in I heard of Karkaroff, the Weasel, had given up several death eaters.
       Lucius bowed to be and asked if I need something. I shook my head and continued to the top most floor of the house. The attic was bare. No boxes of old junk or anything of the sort just empty. It was perfect. I conjured paint for the wall and set my magic to work. Soon the room was a pale blue and I had conjured a large four poster bed with white shear curtains. I paused and heard screaming. Remilda had been branded. It would be a few hours before she came back to consciousness.
       I made small wisps of green smoke come from the tip of my wand and swirl around my head. Soon we would leave. It would be my first fight..against someone I still cared for. I tapped my wand on the floor and they changed colour. What if he hates me afterwards? They were a dark cherry when a knock on the trap door resounded in the attic.
      "Yes?" I called. The door was pushed up and Dolohov climbed the rest of the stairs. I swallowed hard.
      "Yes?" I repeated.
      "I was helping with the infiltration," he stated, excuses coming one after another. I turned away from and moved to the small window. I whispered a cleaning spell and stared out at the long back hedge.
    "I don't want excuses," I whispered. With my hands clasped behind my back I walked to him and started at him on the floor. "You think I'll forgive you? How do think I felt?"
      "What about me? Learning you were with potter, alone," his eyes were filled with hurt. My arms fell to my sides and knelt down, the skirt I was wearing splayed on the floor.
       "Antonin," i whispered. His lips parted slightly. I hadn't used his actual name in years. "Will you forgive me in my lapse of judgment?" I bowed my head, black curls splayed on the flooring. Dolohov pulled me close and we stayed that way for what seemed like hours.
••••••
     The time had come. Remilda and I made sandwiches and ate while my father got ready to give Harry the fake vision.
     "I'm a bit nervous," Remilda whispered.
      "This is my first battle," I replied. Father pushed open the door.
       "It's time. " Remilda and I grabbed hands and left the property. The small muggle town was close when we apparated straight into the prophecy room in the department of mysteries. We walked about the room until we found the prophecy labeled with Harry's name.
      "Do you think we have one?" She whispered. I glanced at her and we broke off, in search of our own "destinies." The spheres had swirling mists inside of them, I watched several swirl around inside there housing. Remold called my name and I ran toward her, thinking that Harry was already here. She was staring at a sphere half way down 83th row. It was 6 selves up. Remilda levitated me up the shelf. I wrapped my hands around it and instantly heard the loud voice of Professor Trelawny

           She will be born to the devils incarnate. More powerful than her father. Chose to ruin the world or build it. She can hide her true identity with a thought. She will become powerful because of love not because of her inner power...

          The prophecy broke off midway when I heard Dumbledore's voice from the sphere. Trelawny gasped and it was over. What did it all mean? I understood it to an extent but i didn't understand what it meant by "powerful because of love?" I didn't have time to dwell on it when we heard voices.
"Ninety-seven!" whispered Hermione. Remilda and I glanced at each other and moved in the shadows toward row 97.
"He's right down at the end," said Harry, his voice sounded strained. "You can't see properly from here. . . ."  I saw Harry lead his group down the row toward the darkness where he thought Sirius was lying.
       "He should be near here," whispered Harry. Harry was close to where I stood.  "Anywhere here . . . really close . . ."
      "Harry?" said Hermione tentatively, but he did respond.
      "Somewhere about . . . here . . ." he said.
      They had reached the end of the row and emerged into more dim candlelight. There was nobody there at all. All was echoing, dusty silence. Remilda and looked at them and placed our masks over our faces.
     "He might be . . ." Harry whispered hoarsely, peering down the alley next door. "Or maybe . . ." He hurried to look down the one beyond that.
      "Harry?" said Hermione again.
      "What?" he snarled.
       "I . . . I don't think Sirius is here."
        Nobody spoke. Remilda was fidgeting with the gems hanging off her mask. I kept me breathing low and even. Harry ran up the space at the end of the rows, staring down them. He ruffled my long black cloak but didn't stop to look around to see what the sound was. He was at the row where my prophecy was when Ron spoke.
    "Harry?" Ron called.
    "What?" Harry said, angrily.
     "Have you seen this?" said Ron.
      "What?" said Harry, but eagerly this time. He strode back to where they were all standing, a little way down row ninety-seven, but found nothing except Ron staring at one of the dusty glass spheres on the shelves. We knew it was coming, I leaned into the wall and moved closer to see down the row.
     "What?" Harry repeated glumly.
      "It's — it's got your name on," said Ron. Harry moved a little closer. Ron was pointing at one of the small glass spheres that glowed with a dull inner light. My mouth was dry waiting for him to grab it in his hands.
    "My name?" said Harry blankly. Harry craned his neck back, not as tall as Ron was, to read the yellowish label affixed to the shelf right beneath the dusty glass ball. He licked his lips as he read the date.
    Harry stared at it.
    "What is it?" Ron asked, sounding unnerved. "What's your name doing down here?" Ron glanced along at the other labels on that stretch of shelf.
      "I'm not here," he said, sounding perplexed. "None of the rest of us are here. . . ."
      "Harry, I don't think you should touch it," said Hermione sharply, as Harry stretched out his hand.
      "Why not?" he said. "It's something to do with me, isn't it?"
      "Don't, Harry," said the Longbottom boy suddenly.
      "It's got my name on," said Harry. He reached for the dusty orb, pulling it off the shelve. Everyone was gathered around him. Harry looked disappointed when nothing happened.
       "Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me." I said, moving from the shadows. They all took in my mask and long black curls and I smiled, the mask forming a sinister grin.
       Black shapes were emerging out of thin air all around Harry's friends and myself, blocking the groups way left and right. A dozen lit wand tips were pointing directly at their hearts. Ginny gave a gasp of horror. I laughed as Lucius clasped my shoulder. Remilda came up next to Dolohov and Acklerley.
     "To me, Potter," I stretched my hand out to him, fingers curled up to clasp the orb. Harry and his friends were looking around at us. Harry swallowed hard and looked back at me.
     "To me!" I snarled to him.
    "Where's Sirius?" Harry said.
     Several of the Death Eaters laughed. A harsh female voice from the midst of the shadowy figures to Harry's left said triumphantly, "The Dark Lord always knows!"
     "Always," echoed I softly. "Now, give me the prophecy, Potter." I loosened my mask so it would fall at the right point. My lips were curled in a smirk while I did so.
     "I want to know where Sirius is!"
"I want to know where Sirius is!" mimicked the woman to his left. She and our fellow Death Eaters had closed in so that they were mere feet away from Harry and the others.
"You've got him," said Harry,  "He's here. I know he is." Harry was looking around, visibly panicked.
      "The little baby woke up fwightened and fort what it dweamed was twoo," said the woman in a horrible, mock-baby voice. Ron moved slightly, I noticed him grasp his wand in his pocket. 
     "Don't do anything," Harry muttered. "Not yet —"
The woman who had mimicked him let out a raucous scream of laughter. "You hear him? You hear him? Giving instructions to the other children as though he thinks of fighting us!" Remilda giggled and her mask was also smirking at him.
"Oh, you don't know Potter as I do, Bellatrix," I said softly. "He has a great weakness for heroics; the Dark Lord understands this about him. Now give me the prophecy, Potter." I stretched my hand out more, flexing my fingers, just as my mask fell and clattered to the floor. The group gasped and I chuckled slowly.
I know Sirius is here," said Harry, his voice was panicked as stared into my eyes. "I know you've got him!" More of the Death Eaters laughed, though the woman still laughed loudest of all.
"It's time you learned the difference between life and dreams, Potter," I smirked, my red lips curling on the ends. "Now give me the prophecy, or we start using wands."
"Go on, then," said Harry, raising his own wand to chest height. As he did so, the five wands of Ron, Hermione, the Longbottom boy, Ginny, and Luna rose on either side of him. The death eaters around me and myself did not strike. Not while he still held the prophecy father urned for.
"Hand over the prophecy and no one need get hurt," I smiled coolly.