The Darkest Witch

Belinda: One Hundred Nine Days Before January

Scotland
Hogwarts
Belinda

    As she stared at the Vanishing Cabinet, Belinda was reminded of her mentor.

    Nicholas Flamel once told her that the beauty of alchemy lies within the purity of its soul — it exists to refine magic and cleanse it from its chaos. When performed with utmost accuracy, an Alchemist is not only able to perform magic but become magic.

    Alchemy bestowed Nicholas Flamel, her mentor, with immortality. With the use of his stone, the possibilities of death no longer existed. Nicholas Flamel was able to lift the bounds of magic and bend it according to his will. As she allowed him to guide her, Belinda has begun to understand the meaning of his words.

    Alchemy made the impossible, possible, and the possible, impossible.

    With one look of the Vanishing Cabinet, she understood why this task was given to her. The Vanishing Cabinet was elegant magic, devoid of chaos, and was magnificently pure. This epitome of grace was no work of an ordinary witch or wizard. It was forged by the burning hands of someone like her — an Alchemist.

    By the end of the day, Belinda had every curve of iron, every line of wood, every mark of age memorized in her head and it's history engraved in her heart. The First Wizarding War brought forth the creation of the Vanishing Cabinet. Numerous witches and wizards used it to abruptly disappear when Death Eaters, the Dark Lord's followers, visited their residences. It was forged with the intention of escaping dark magic. Belinda couldn't help but laugh at its irony. For the very thing that helped the wizarding world escape the clutches of darkness was the very thing that would propel its return.

    Belinda buried her face in her hands and screamed. She did not want to do this. Her alchemy was supposed to reinvent magic and protect its purity. It was not supposed to augment its brutality and favor its chaos.

    The task given to her was sacrilege and an assault on her own soul. However, Belinda was unsure if she had any of her soul left. Having been born related to the Dark Lord, Voldemort was an assault to her whole being, and her having willingly chosen to stand by his side was a violent murder to her soul.

She ran to the lavatory, took off her gloves and begun washing her hands vigorously. 

    Fate was cruel to Belinda. No amount of reason would dissuade her from believing that it did not take delight from her agony. Every person she loved was murdered and now it expected her to do the same.

    "It would be your greatest honor to kill Albus Dumbledore, Belinda," the Dark Lord said.

    Belinda cried as her body trembled in misery. 

    On the day of the Sorting, Belinda first laid eyes on the man she's expected to murder. Albus Dumbledore stood behind the podium with his arms wide in welcome. To most he was the greatest wizard who has ever lived; to some, he was a friend of great confidence; but to Belinda, he was an innocent man, unworthy of injustice.

    "By the time you mend the Vanishing Cabinet's sister," the Dark Lord whispered to her. "We will be there to witness the death of the Great Dumbledore with you."

    Belinda's hands were bleeding. 

    She would've never fathomed that there would come a day that she would loathe having known alchemy and having been born the child of her parents. Born Gaunt and Sayre, her lineage was recognized to be most noble and pure, wealthy and powerful, and in Belinda's heart, tainted and cursed.

    It would be unreasonable for her to blame her parents for whom she'd never met. It would preposterous for her to blame Fate for whom she'd never seen. It would be erroneous for her to blame the Dark Lord for whom she chose to obey. Belinda had no one else to blame for her own tragedy but herself.

    She lifted her head up to stare at the cabinet, standing majestically on the other side of the door.

    Beautiful magic, she thought.

    It repulsed her that such purity was to be used for such terrible means. It repulsed her, even more, to know that she allowed this to be.

    For the past week, Belinda had been neglecting herself. She had not been eating well, not sleeping well, nor was breathing well. She did not care for it. If it were up to her, she'd already killed herself in Morrigan Manor. Nonetheless, she knew her death was pointless. She knew that she was replaceable and that her death wouldn't change the course of what was expected to happen.

    She was trapped and she had no choice but to bow her head in surrender. She could not risk the safety of the people she loved for the sake of her own.

    She thought of Draco and how spectacular he looked as he glided with the wind.

    The other day, Belinda had found herself in peril. She had found herself standing on the Astronomy Tower with her mind taunting herself to jump. As her knees begun to feel weak, Draco flew across her periphery. She threw her body back in great force and gasped for air.

    The moment she regained her senses, she immediately got to her feet and ran towards the pitch where Draco was. The idiocy of what just happened rammed into her head in painful torment. She was being selfish.

    When she neared the pitch, she could hear Graham Montague's voice. She ran faster. By the time she was by the gates, Draco was no longer in the air and Graham was already leaving the pitch. As Graham emerged from the gates, he saw Belinda and had greeted her with a smile. After apologizing to Graham for not staying for a chat, Belinda collected herself and walked slowly towards Draco.

    She needed Draco Malfoy to remind her of her motivations — and that he did.

    Belinda entered her workroom today with a renewed design. The world she has now belonged to was cruel and powerful. She now understood that it was necessary for her to abolish any sign of weakness and fragility in order to protect those she loved. Indeed, there was fear in her heart but there was no regret.

    When her tears ceased from falling, she washed the blood off her hands, and donned her gloves. On her desk, a brightly wrapped chocolate bar caught her eye. She reached to grab it and ate it. Belinda never liked anything sweet. She preferred the punch of bitter coffee and the bite of fresh mints, but as she let the sweetness engulf her senses, she felt comforted.

    With the Vanishing Cabinet looming in front of her, she tightened her gloves and begun her work.

- end of chapter seven -