.
"IT all started with a powerful witch who had an ability unlike any other. Back then, witches and wizards compared her to the likes of Merlin and Circe — and they had reason too. She was related to Merlin, after all. A distant cousin."
"Related to Merlin? So does that mean she had powers like him, too?"
"Powers that aren't like his, Margo. A unique ability was bestowed upon her and her entire bloodline; an ability to move objects with a mere thought. We call it kinisis."
"Kinisis? Wait. . .w-what do you mean 'we', mum?"
"She was your ancestor, Margo. Our ancestor. It is because of her that we have that same magic flowing through our veins. Every woman in the family throughout each generation has this gift. And it is finally discovered to its full potential on the night of her sixteenth birthday. This is usually where learning how to control and contain it will begin. This power along with a wand makes us one of the most powerful and vulnerable people in the world."
"You mean that I—that we—"
"Yes. It was because of that power many Muggles wanted to burn her at the stake, along with the many other witches that suffered in Salem."
"Hang on—Salem? A-as in the trials. . .oh my, Merlin. There—there was a story about this — a witch named Genevieve. . .but I thought she wasn't real. That this can't be real. . .the coincidences are too big—"
"It is very much real, Mar. Have you ever wondered why things suddenly just fall or break when you're angry? A sensation happing in your gut before that happens? The curse or prophecy that was placed upon your shoulders?"
"The curse. . ."
"Yes. . .the curse that Genevieve has put on her descendant. . .that unfortunately has decided to claim you, Margo."
"Why—why me?"
"The curse can only be true when that descendant is born in the same year of the Chosen One, which we now know is Harry Potter. Your fates being intertwined with another — the stars made sure of that the night Genevieve placed the cursed."
"But why place the curse in the first place? What made her do it? Mum. . .what's the curse even about?"
"No one knows why she did it, Margo. That is one thing that remains a mystery ever since. As for the curse. . .are you ready to hear it?"
"Yes. . ."
"You—you are a weapon, Margo. . .It seems that you and Harry are one in the same — the key to stop this war and save us. . .or destroy us all."
Then everything in the dining table suddenly levitated in mid-air, floating at head level. From the cutlery, used tissues that had been crumpled up, to some flowers from the vase — all in the air.
I stared at them open-mouthed, reaching out to lightly push a fork that merely floated a few centimeters away. Everything seemed to have its own gravity, but I knew who was behind the phenomena.
The last thing I saw was the glowing wisps of white light swirling around mum's fingertips before the dream changed.
I found myself in the same forest from my previous dreams. Standing in front of the same big hollow tree at nightfall with the same sickly handsome boy, though this time there was another person with us — a woman.
She spoke out to him, attracting his attention with a velvety voice. There was a sense of calm in her tone, yet upon closer observation the hard edge found was as sharp as a razor.
The young man placed his back on the tree to turn to the woman, admiration flashed through his features but in the blink of an eye, it was passive again.
"Who are you?" he said.
I realized it was the first time I heard him speak, and it was very dangerously lovely. Like the taste of delicious wine, urging you to take more and more until you are deliriously drunk on it.
But when he asked his question, I didn't need to wait for the woman to reply. The way her dark locks cascaded down her back and the dark night eyes to match, I knew her already.
Genevieve, my ancestor.
"The question is who are you?" she said coolly with a raised eyebrow. "It is not everyday a villager finds himself deep in the heart of this forest."
A glint settled in her eyes as she surveyed the boy, her full lips pressing into a thin line.
"Or a wizard who comes to seek the lost relic of Rowena Ravenclaw," she finishes coldly.
Cold chills ran down the length of my spine. I heard about a lost relic from Ravenclaw, gossip that circulated around Hogwarts. It was apparently a tiara encrusted with the most precious stones. All this time I thought it was a myth, but just like Genevieve, it was very much real — and with a jolt in my heart, must've been inside the big hollow of the tree all this time.
The reason why the boy wanted it, I had no idea.
"Who are you?" he asked more forcefully.
Genevieve smiled coldly and introduced herself. I noticed that she didn't have a last name for herself at all.
"I'm guessing you're like me, then," he said and took a cautious step closer with his wand clutched tight. "A witch."
Genevieve let out a dark chuckle. "A witch with far greater powers than you do. So pray tell, Tom Riddle, what exactly it is you want to do with Ravenclaw's lost diadem?"
The breath got knocked out from me, a big punch to the gut that left me breathless and stumbling away from the boy. I stared at him in horror, my heart beating erratically in fear.
Tom Riddle, also know as what he would soon be, Lord Voldemort. The vilest wizard to ever exist.
A wave of darkness washed over Tom's face, oddly making his complexion so much paler and colder. I could've sworn his eyes turned to the color of blood red.
"Power," he spat out malevolently.
Genevieve's features hardened as she let her dark eyes pierce through his. For a split second, I saw realization flash in them.
"You. . ." she hissed, "you dare—"
She cut herself off and took two long strides towards Tom. One second he was getting ready to defend himself, the next he was lying on the forest floor only a few feet away from Genevieve.
My eyes widened and I rushed to shield myself behind a fallen log, watching what was about to happen by peeking through the top. I knew they couldn't see me or hear me, but my instincts told me to hide anyways.
"Hey!" Tom yelled out in protest, unfazed at how Genevieve's eyes seemed to hold a dark flame or that white wisps were encasing her fingers. Something that I could do as well.
"Avada Kedav—"
Genevieve immediately flicked her wrist and sent Tom's wand flying away from his grasp. My lips parted in shock, amazed and scared at how she was able to do that so easily.
Tom was left bewildered. "How—how did you do that? What are you?"
"Mark my words, Tom Riddle," she said firmly, then the rest of her words were garbled up.
I furrowed my eyebrows, looking higher from the log to see what was happening. Genevieve's lips were moving but I could only hear whispers of words and not the complete sentence.
Words like Dark Magic. . .Diadem. . .Fail. . .
Before I could wonder the meaning behind them, Tom spoke again, "You dare challenge me?"
"You think taking this diadem won't leave you with a price?" Genevieve said almost humorously and cocked her head. "I don't think so."
Her expression hardened. Even from far away, she looked utterly terrifying.
"I put this curse upon you now, Tom Riddle. On the era of your dark reign, she will be the cause of your triumph or your downfall. She will be the weapon, the greatest ally or the worst enemy. And you will fall. Mark—my—words."
With one final glare, Genevieve turned around swiftly and apparated away leaving the leaves on the ground to float weightlessly.
I sucked in a sharp breath — then I woke up.
The first thing I heard were my parents singing 'happy birthday' to me.
I squinted my brows, flinching at the bright sun rays that managed to flit through the gaps in the curtain.
I didn't jerk awake, didn't sit up and gasp for my breath. Instead I opened my eyes slowly and heaved a breath of relief.
"Happy birthday dear Margo, happy birthday to you," my parents sang, coming towards my bed and holding a chocolate cake with only three candles on it.
I yawned and rubbed my eyes, slowly sitting up to smile sleepily at them.
"You guys didn't have to do this."
"Don't be silly," dad chuckled. "We've been doing this since you were born."
"I'm pretty sure that's the whole point of birthdays, dad," I said amused.
"You know what I mean." He waved me off.
Every morning ever since I could sleep alone in my room, my parents always woke me up the same way: singing softly and a cake. I knew I told them that they didn't have to do it anymore, but I was really grateful that they still did.
"Come on, then!" mum cheered. "Blow out the candles!"
I managed to plaster a smile on my face. Today, I was to push that last dream aside. Today, I was about to have the biggest change of my life.
I blew out the candles.
THE first month of summer was the only time I managed to have fun.
The first few days when I got home were reserved purely for adjusting and unpacking. The only thing in my head during those days was what Dumbledore had told me. After building up the courage to talk to my parents about it, I finally did, and learned about my own family history; my heritage and my gifts (or curse, more like it).
I'll admit, it wasn't that hard to believe after the information settled in. Mum proved enough evidence that it's true, plus all of the strange occurrences that had happened at Hogwarts. I didn't even realize until that last dream I had last night that the boy in the forest was all connected with my powers. It was no wonder why I had been dreaming it.
The boy. . .who also turned out to be Tom Riddle. All tied with Genevieve, the entire reason why she even bestowed this curse. And because of what? A lost diadem? What did Tom — Voldemort — even want with it?
I didn't dare tell my parents about the dreams. Something in me says that it's better off that they don't know that kind of information.
The next week after that I was always out of my house, alternating a few days in a week at Ruby's house and the next few days of the week at the Weasley's. Since my house and theirs had big chimneys it was easy to floo in back and forth.
It was the only time during my summer that made me forget about what was truly happening out there, easing my worries everyday whenever dad went out to do his job.
I've told Ruby and Ernie about what my mum told me during those weeks, as well as Ron and Ginny. The only three people I haven't told was Fred, George and Charlie — sending Charlie a letter deemed too risky and I finally told the twins when they visited the Burrow during the weekends.
And as for the Order, apparently they already knew.
Then as the month went by, more and more Death Eater attacks were being reported everyday and my parents were getting paranoid. Not for themselves, but for me.
When they told me I couldn't leave the house anymore, for once I didn't argue. Hearing that Voldemort wants me as a weapon — that he needs me as a weapon, it's enough to make me think I should better be safe than sorry.
I didn't quite complain about staying in the house all day. Now that my mum had told me everything, her powers were always the source of fascination for the rest of the month, along with an uncountable amount of books I could read.
I remember I once asked mum, "Have you been concealing your powers all this time?"
"Ever since you were old enough to remember. That's why I keep getting those migraines before. Bottling them up could do that," she had told me.
Sometimes, I'd even spend an entire day with dad. He was teaching me all the new potions I'd be learning next year and even lent me some of his notes.
Before I knew it, it was already halfway through July and the weather was starting to get chillier.
It's the seventeenth today, which is also my sixteenth birthday — and the night that I will finally activate my powers.
I'd gotten sweet letters from all of my friends, all of them wishing me the happiest birthday and a good luck for tonight. There were no presents for me but I didn't mind at all, I find that letters and cards are far more valuable.
Fingers snapped in front of my face.
I jolted away from my thoughts and smiled sheepishly at mum.
"Sorry," I said. "Got lost in my thoughts."
Mum groaned. "Come on, Margo. This is a very important night for you. You need to pay attention. Sometimes things can go very wrong when you use your powers."
"Yeah," my dad chimed in nonchalantly from his seat at the armchair, "remember that time you got turned into a worm on your sixteenth birthday, love?"
My eyes widened. "Is that true?"
She flashed us an irritated look and I smiled innocently.
"No," she said flatly.
The three of us decided to use the living room as a place to practice. My dad was casually seated in an armchair and my mum and I faced each other in another, a low coffee table in between us that was empty except for a quill. A classic training object.
"Now, you remember what I told you?"
"Yes."
"Remember what you have to do?"
"Yes."
"Remember—"
"Mum," I chuckled, "I got everything. Let me practice now."
She exhaled, sat back on the chair and waited for me to start.
I recalled what she told me countless of times before it would come to this day.
The mind was the key to activating the power, my thoughts and imaginations. It was like picturing an object float in the air, wishing it to jump towards your outstretched hand, or even away from you.
The hands were only a way to channel and control the power. To only be used when you're giving it your all, when those thoughts were the loudest. Or usually to make things easier.
But as a rookie, I had to use my mind first.
Controlling my power is usually the more hard part. Mum said that they can sometimes be activated through very strong emotions, whether it be happiness, anger, etc. It was no wonder that all those things happened when I was mad.
Luckily she said that those things only happened because I was very close to activating its full potential. But still, I have to be extremely careful. No matter what, no one must ever see that my hands can glow or that I have these powers. Especially during times like this.
I relaxed my shoulders and focused on the quill. It was important to be confident, to own the magic within and not the other way round.
I mentally told the quill to go up, imagining as if there was a sudden gust of wind from below that allowed it to rise and rise and rise. . .
Then a familiar tugging erupted at my gut, cool kisses of light danced on my fingertips and I gasped at the feeling. Slowly, the quill lifted from the table, taking its sweet and precious time to meet my eyes.
Everyone in the room was silent, whether it was shock or so I can keep my concentration, I didn't know. I felt my jaw drop as I stared at the feather hovering in front of my face, relishing in the feeling of the wisps on my fingers.
I let out a disbelieved laugh and dared to break eye contact with the quill to look at my parents. My dad was almost at the edge of his seat, jaw also dropped in wonder and pride. Mum was beaming happily, biting her lip to contain her excited squeals.
"Are you guys seeing this? This is amazing! I can't believe—"
And just like that the quill clattered to the ground and the coolness vanished from my fingers.
I blinked in surprise and cocked my head in confusion.
Mum barked out a laugh. "What was the last thing I told you to remember?" she asked teasingly.
"To concentrate," I grumbled out, picking up the quill to start again.
.
[P.S]
i am soooo soo sorry!!! ;-; i rlly procrastinated on this sooo much it's not even okay </3
but i am finally finally back with the first chapter of book six!!! aka my fave book
how did u guys like this chapter? i decided i just reveal the big secret asap cause it's a very pivotal role in basically,,,, everything!!!
i am so so sorry if this is such a crappy chapter i wanted to make sure there was enough info about margo's powers
pls vote and comment!!!
stay tuned for more!
NOTE
i changed margo's birthday from august 17th to july 17th to fit the storyline better , it's not rlly a big change but it'll be really important once i start writing DH
— author.
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