ruins ; harry potter [1]

three ; dementors

Some nights, she sometimes could nearly hear the darkness.

It was a hum, a dull, incessant buzzing inside of her head. She had always hated it; darkness always bred thoughts she had long suppressed. Bad things grow in darkness. She knew that better than anyone.

She saw things in the dark, too. Like a liquid, it flowed to create shadows of monsters, ones with red eyes or long hair or teeth that dripped blood, all staring at her like prey. It made her feel so weak, so powerless; it numbed her with fear. It was a paralytic. Her very own nightmare she could never escape.

She was grateful everyday when the sun would come up, sterilizing the room of all the monsters that had been there at night. She thrived in the light, refreshed and unburdened until night came round again.

It was growing dark when Dumbledore called for her one night. The tawny owl that had brought the  note flew from her window and out of sight, and she used the Floo network downstairs to travel.

"You've been happy, it seems," said Dumbledore when she appeared beneath the green flame in his office. "I'm delighted to see that you're getting along with the others."

And she was. She had never had friends until now. She finally had a family.

"It's been nice," she said. "I've never had anything like this."

He smiled at her, pleased.

"I've called you here today for a specific reason," he began. "I would like you to tell me what you know."

Diana closed her eyes for a moment. She should've known it was coming; Dumbledore had yet to ask her about her visions and dreams and she knew it was a matter of time. She looked at Dumbledore for a moment before she took a deep breath.

"It started when I was just a toddler," she started, looking at her fingers. "I don't remember that time too well, but I saw things. I'd have vivid dreams of snakes and a castle, and of a man with snake eyes." Dumbledore nodded for her to continue. "It wasn't until I was eight that I'd have visions while awake. These were longer. I'd see the same castle burning, I'd see a boy with bright green eyes and glasses and men with black cloaks and masks. I saw war and anguish and sadness and fear."

There was a pause. Diana listened to the various sounds of whirring and clicking from the numerous instruments on the shelves.

"Who were these men in masks?" interrupted Dumbledore gravely.

"Death Eaters," she said at once. "In these visions, that's what they were called. I didn't know then that they were his supporters."

Dumbledore nodded for her to continue.

"When I was ten, that's when I heard the voices. Sometimes it was a snake, and it would tell me things in Parseltongue. Other times, it was just a woman. She told me of things to come. She's the one who told me about the Prophecy."

"Did you recognize the woman's voice?" asked Dumbledore, a look of worry in his eyes that flashed for a mere second. Diana noticed it.

She shook her head. "No. I don't know who she is." She opened and closed her mouth a few times before she spoke again. "She spoke like she knew him. Tom, I mean."

Diana still had trouble calling her father anything other than his birth name. She would never call him Dad, or Father. She hated calling him by the name he had given himself. Whenever she used it around people who didn't know of her relation, it rolled off of her tongue so bitterly. Even calling him Tom reminded her that he was her father, and she flinched internally every time she used it. In fact, she just preferred to never talk about him ever.