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𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐃𝐘𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐄

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I feel my ancestors in my blood.

I am a body of people that

are asking not to be forgotten.

— beingupile

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐒 going down: The pure, colorless vastness of the sky stretched over her, indifferent to her and her suffering. Elara sat down in the tent entrance and took a deep breath of clean air. Simply to be alive to watch the sun set over the sparkling snowy hillside seemed to have been the greatest treasure on earth.

She looked out over a valley blanketed in snow, distant church bells chiming through the glittering silence. Without realizing it, she was digging her fingers into her arms as if she were trying to resist physical pain.

She had spilled her own blood more times than she could count; this journey had already given her scars to her forearm to join those on her hand and across her eye. Elara always liked scars. Countless times she had called them 'badass' and would always proudly tell a story behind one, no matter how embarrassing.

Both Harry and Hermione, who had refused to sleep more than thirty minutes while Elara was unconscious, had retired after Elara threatened to burn the tent down if they don't get more than ten hours of sleep soon.

After a few more hours of sitting in the hearth, Elara was only slightly cold. Her wound was healed over, and although still tender, worked like new. She wanted to test out her abilities again to see if they were still working, but Harry and Hermione both vehemently protested. To appease them, she agreed.

She ran over the events of Christmas Eve over in her head. Despite Harry insistently telling Elara that she had no reason to be guilty, she still could think of about a million scenarios in which everyone would have gotten out unscathed and in which neither Elara nor Harry would have had to seen the awful image of Nagini crawling out of Bathilda's decaying body.

With Hermione and Harry soundly asleep, Elara supposed it wouldn't be a terrible idea to try accessing the place again. She was working herself up, and this always managed to calm her down. Already sitting, all she heard was the babbling of the brook that lay only a few feet away and the occasional owl. Cold bit her face and she could see the remnants of her breath in the late December air.

Elara took a deep breath, and on cue, the orbs of fiery light filled the surrounding forest. As usual, a tidal wave of calm washed over her, and she relaxed. Before closing her eyes, she peered at the night sky above. The faint trail of a shooting star caught her eye, causing her to smile.

Breathing in and out slowly, Elara closed her eyes.

However, this time she was not in a lush forest. The walls of an ancient castle surrounded Elara. Medieval paintings of kings, queens, gods, and goddesses lined the old stone walls. Suits of armor stood regal and tall, facing the opposite wall.

Advancing forward, Elara's foot caught on something. She peered down to find that her clothes had been replaced with a flowing forest green dress that gathered at the floor. She then noticed that her hair had been let down of her braids and was cascading down her back like it used to in times of peace.

Only slightly peeved at the new inconvenience, Elara gathered the front of her dress and took off running down the corridor in front of her. She passed ornate rooms and libraries, barely looking in each one.

Something told her that this was it.

She retreated further into the castle, impatience pushing her to go faster and faster. Only pausing for just a moment to peer into the throne room, Elara made no exceptions for any of the other ethereal and ornate rooms she passed.

Turning sharply at every turn, she kept running. Her lungs tore at themselves, begging her to take a breath, but she had waited too long to care. She was here.

At the end of another significantly decorated hallway stood two double doors. Gold etchings of dancing flames lay upon their worn wood. Without hesitation, Elara pushed the doors open. Before her lay what seemed like millions of people, all dressed for different decades.

Maintaining her composure despite the overwhelming joy she was experiencing, Elara entered the room. She passed people who were dressed exactly like her. Grotesque memories of witch hunts and execution play before her, which she pointedly looked away from. She came across a little girl, who looked almost exactly like her in a dark blue dress decorated with gold leafing holding a flower in her hands, watching the petals grow rapidly with admiration.

Smiling, Elara continued on.

She passed wars, reunions, marriages, and even deaths as she watched the years progress. She only would stop occasionally, watching people like her display their powers. It seemed that the others Dumbledore had mentioned were also gifted with extra abilities such as herself — those of ice, earth, air, water, light, electricity, darkness, and energy.

Elara noticed she was the only flame.

When the clothes became more and more modern, Elara slowed her pace. Her heart beat in her ears as she lay eyes upon witches and wizards she'd read about in school. She kept her eyes sharp for anyone she knew personally or any conversation that might have anything to do with her.

"Bellatrix had the child."

Elara almost missed it. The dull, monotonous voice of Snape barely carried over the other conversations of the past. Following the voice, Elara waded through the crowd of memories.

"The Dark Lord could not get within 10 feet of the child. There was this. . . force stopping him."

Finally, Elara came across the apparitions of Dumbledore and Snape, walking and talking.

"Was there a call?" asked Dumbledore.

"A what?"

"A call. Possibly resembling that of a siren."

Snape hesitated.

"Narcissa came to me. . . . she claimed there was this incessant calling and a figure flowing through the halls."

"Come, we need to speak where prying ears cannot hear."

Elara had barely noticed she was walking towards a wall as she followed alongside Dumbledore and Snape. She ran into it as the pair passed effortlessly through. Crazed, Elara tried to push the wall. Much to her surprise, it opened up, an archway her size appearing before her.

". . . . in the halls was Orion."

"The Constellation?"

"Yes."

The ground was a steep downward slope. The walls were close and everything was dark except for the little light the apparitions of Dumbledore and Snape emitted.

"That — How — Why?"

"The child is a vessel. Sent here by the Stars above to protect the balance of the world."

"Forgive me, Albus, but I don't quite understand."

"One could call the Constellations 'deities', but I would make the argument that they are our guardians. The balance of the cosmos is currently skewed. They must have seen no other way," said Dumbledore, "so they sent the child here."

"What does this have to do with the call?"

"I would assume that it was to lock her abilities away until it is safe enough for her to harness them."

". . . . What exactly is Elara's purpose here, then?"

"She may not be old enough to destroy Voldemort now, but she will when he returns."

"What about Lily's boy?"

"Harry will deliver the last blow, but I fear she will weaken him greatly."

"And how exactly would she weaken the Dark Lord?"

"She will have to sacrifice herself."

Snape scoffed.

"She is but a child!"

"But her death will save many."

"If her death saves so many, what do you have to fear?"

"I worry that her power will be too much for this world. See, Severus, she has. . . ."

Much to Elara's despair, Dumbledore's voice seemed to grow more and more distant. Only a few fragments of sentences made their way back to her.

". . . . is fading. . . . "

". . . . will come back in time of need. . . . Severus."

Desperate for answers, Elara picked up speed. She ran along the narrow hall, shoulders grazing the old walls. She could see the soft glow ahead and tore after it. Faster and faster she went, not noticing the damp walls of the castle blending into a familiar forest.

Elara blinked and was back where she was, except the tent was nowhere in sight. She barely recognized her surroundings, saw no sign of anything familiar. Grossly upset with herself for being so reckless, she grumbled to herself, taking off in a direction that seemed somewhat familiar.

A snap of a twig and rustling behind her pulled Elara out of her thoughts.

"Who's there?" she demanded, hand quickly flying to her wand.

It wasn't there. Despite how weak she still was from recent events, raging flames danced around her palms, threatening to incinerate any foe.

"A fate worse than death."

Elara glared. "It'll be the other way around if you don't reveal yourself in the next five seconds."

"Have it your way."

Ten hooded figures materialized around her on all sides. Adrenaline quickly spiked in Elara, the flames growing taller.

"You have a twenty-thousand galleon on your head, sweetheart," said one of the figures. "Pick a god and pray to it, Elara Tonks."

Elara laughed.

"There are no gods here."

Flames rocketed to the two figures directly adjacent to Elara. They fell to the ground, screaming in pain as the hungry curse of fire ate at their robes. She dropped to the ground as a gloved fist came flying over her. She swung her leg out and took out one of the shorter figures. Their cloaked head hit an unfortunately (for them) placed rock and ricocheted off the stone with a sickening thud.

A streak of light grazed her cheek. She felt the white hot temperature of the fatal spell as it whizzed by her head.

Turning her sights on the sender of the spell, Elara pushed herself off the ground and sped towards the figure. Jumping onto a large rock that was jutting out of the ground, she propelled herself upwards, effectively landing on the figure's shoulders.

In an instant, she twisted her body around, so that their face was looking directly at her stomach. She threw herself backwards, causing her pursuer to fly forwards over her, landing on their neck.

Four down, six to go.

At once, three of them rushed her. Two flaming daggers materialized in her hands. Ignoring the wave of exhaustion that hit her, Elara sidestepped one, effectively slicing their side. Once she was behind them, she plunged the daggers into their back.

The second hooded figure threw a powerful right hook, striking Elara in the jaw. She recoiled, quickly spitting the blood that tasted nastily of iron. Once they threw a second punch, Elara moved, grabbing their outstretched arm with two hands, and pulled them over her shoulder, thus effectively slamming them into the rocky ground.

The last that had made the unfortunate decision of trying hand to hand combat with Elara tried to tackle her, but she sidestepped quickly. While they stumbled, regaining their footing, she spotted a low hanging branch and grabbed onto it. From there, she swung and landed on one shoulder, hands placed on either side of their head, and spun.

A nauseating crack rang through the forest as the figure crumbled to the ground.

Elara landed on the ground and quickly pushed herself back up, fists raised, staring at the three remaining figures.

"You told me to pick a god and pray to it," sneered Elara, addressing the tallest figure, the one who was so stupid as to threaten her. "You forget this is hell's territory, and I am beholden to no gods."

The hooded figure she addressed laughed.

"We have wands, you do not," he threatened.

"I can control and manipulate fire," said Elara indifferently, "So, will you put up a fight? Or will you perish like a dog?"

"I'll be twenty thousand galleons richer."

The man raised his wand, and Elara lit her hands. His two colleagues moved forward, but he raised a hand.

"No. I want to teach her a lesson."

Elara clucked her tongue.

"A horrible decision, really."

The man shot a spell, to which was incinerated by a wall that materialized in front of Elara. As it disintegrated, she moved behind a tree, peering around it. The man was prowling around, the other two standing there in confusion or in shock at his stupidity. Relieved, Elara took a moment to catch her breath.

However, in the mere seconds she let her guard down, the man came from behind and wrapped an arm around her neck. Elara took a moment to recuperate, but when she did, she slammed an elbow into his gut. Winded, the man slightly released Elara.

With the arm he was gripping her with, she swung around and up, pushing herself into the air. She uprooted him from the ground, binging her around with him as she rotated in the air. He slammed into the ground, gasping for air.

Elara once again pushed herself up, ignoring her lightheadedness. The two remaining looked at each other.

"Who's next?"

"Sorry to tell you," said one of the two, "We're both cowards."

"Sectumsempra."

The dizziness and seeping darkness in her vision gave Elara no time to react. The spell hit her leg with blinding pain. Elara crumpled to the ground.

"Fuck," she muttered, scrambling backwards as the two advanced.

"This was much easier than I expected," leered the other, "such a pretty girl and such a high reward. . . ."

"Touch me and you will die a more painful death than your friends," spat Elara, cornered up against a tree.

The one who had sliced her leg open only laughed before seizing the injured leg and twisting it in a way that no limb was meant to be twisted. A scream of pain erupted from Elara as unconsciousness threatened her.

"HELP!" she screamed, praying Harry or Hermione would hear her. "SOMEONE — "

The other, clearly reaching for her to Apparate to whatever level of hell they were going to drag her to, only laughed.

"There's no one here to save you now."

"HARRY — HERMIONE, PLEASE! SOMEONE — RON — "

The familiar pressure of darkness closed over her as she was whisked away and to her fate.

·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

AUTHORS NOTE:

— all i have to say is: HAHHAHHAHHHA

— i won't be able to update tomorrow

and i've been trying to get better about

updating so here's an early release

to make up for it :)

Written: December 6, 2020

Published: December 6, 2020