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Scars on our Souls

Chapter Text


 

 Prologue

After all, to the well organised mind death is but the next great adventure. – Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter; J.K. Rowling.


 

 

 

I remembered. That is all I could say. I don’t know why me, or how, just that it was me. No matter how many proofs are thrown my way, that it was supposed to be me, I find it hard to believe in.

I was reincarnated. I wouldn’t say I didn’t ponder upon the concept. It was always an interesting one to me. But what had me bewildered was where I was reborn.

I was reborn in a world of magic. A world which was a fantasy tale in my last life, which was on every person’s mind, be it a child, teen or adult; at least once in their life.

I never thought it would happen with me. After my agonizing, merciless death…

Living again. Feeling again. After being robbed of everything. My dignity, my sight…

 Suddenly I see, I feel. I feel what I wasn’t supposed to. I feel magic. I see what I shouldn’t. I see the before, the after, the unseen.

It was bewildering. It had me in hysterics. It was exhilarating. I doubt I have the words to explain my situation to you. You wouldn’t be able to imagine, least of all comprehend. And I don’t mean it in an offensive way.

Then the whole other can of worms… Soulmate.

I have always yearned for my soulmate. A significant other, tied to me by the red string of fate. Two halves of a whole. The yang to my yin, you name it…

 Yes, I was a hopeless romantic. I would have loved to be loved wholeheartedly, desperately, passionately; that’s why I had enjoyed such stories, such vivid imagination sprouted forth by various ideas. And thus, the concept of soulmarks always intrigued me… I adored to read about them, in a world I no longer lived in.

So I don’t know, I didn’t know whether to be fascinated or torn in between horror and exhilaration when I had one, when it appeared. The soulmark, I mean. It was the proof of my weird existence.

It wasn’t as if I was in my world, either! No! Like I said before, I was reborn anew, askance in a world that was the major constituent of the topmost best-selling novellas ever written. A family which was depicted to be destroyed by their own insanity. A twin who had no moral compass, was the veritable definition of insane and deranged and who was obsessed with a heartless psychopath.

I didn’t know whether to laugh unbelievably or to sob my heart out when I saw things I shouldn’t. When I saw glimpses of what should’ve have been, what should be and what was.

That’s not including the butterfly effect my birth has caused. The ripples that were long ago formed before my birth.

My beliefs? I am not arrogant enough to assume I know everything about this world. Nor I am going to judge them on what I bloody read once!

That would be completely wrong because these aren’t fictional characters anymore. These are living breathing humans, made up of flesh and blood.

Thus judging my family, my twin sister Bellatrix as deranged when she was just a harmless babe now wasn’t something I should do. And if so with Bellatrix then I had no right to judge Tom Riddle either.

Saying and doing or thinking and acting upon are two very different things. What a hypocrite I am…

Being a seer didn’t help… Or perhaps it did. I don’t know. I came to understand that a seer and a prophet are two very different things. Professor Trelawney who gave prophecies was a prophet whereas I was a seer. I would learn about it as I grew.

Growing up was beyond difficult. I could see why Bellatrix became what she had. After all my named father Cygnus Black was merely a teen, a thirteen year old when I was born. I am not even his daughter. He was forced to wed Druella Rosier the mistress of the Lord of his House Arcturus Black when she found out she was pregnant. And then there is the rage of the Lady of the House Mellania Black who abhorred the bastard children of her Lord husband and his mistress. The proof of his unfaithfulness.

 But my twin Bellatrix wasn’t as detested as I was. After all I inherited the beauteous delicate features of Druella Rosier. Her gold spun hair and pale violet eyes which shimmered silver; a perfect mix of Arcturus and Druella. Magic caused genetics to work in wondrous ways, as it wouldn’t have been possible for my eyes to have that colour, an assortment of two alleles.

Even though we were twins, Bellatrix and I never had a good relationship. She always resented me. For my mothers love and features, for my sisters’ adoration, for my soulmate. I tried to show her she had as much if not more than me… After all the other members of House Black all preferred her. But for her it was never enough. I’d learn she really did have a toxic personality.

Druella Black, formerly Rosier, my birth mother. She would not ever replace the mother I had in my previous life, but she became my confidant, the person I trusted the most, in this one. She was the epitome of what a Slytherin should be. She was gorgeous, a fact that made the Lady of the House dislike her all the more. With gold spun long hair, that cascaded down in gentle waves down her back, feminine features with wide dark violet eyes, pert nose, full lips she looked like the ideal pureblood beauty. Bellatrix inherited her eyes. I could see now, who Narcissa would take after in attitude.

You would think I should’ve resented her for being who she was, for my actual father, for her mistakes which brought us the wrath of the Lady of our House, but I accepted her.

I don’t understand how could someone do that? Cheat on their own wife… Go after a married man… In this world of soulmarks. Perhaps they weren’t each other’s soulmates, I wouldn’t know. After all soulmarks were private, personal. Showing them was equal to baring yourself. You must maintain discretion with even your parents or family members, especially in the pureblood families. It was similar to arming them with your deepest secret. And despite heralding Mother Magic and her given soulmarks the blood purity was imbedded in their minds.

The arranged marriages occurred unless you found an appropriate pureblood spouse with your own mark. They were rare. Blood bigotry and inbreeding is the reason for the decline in sanity.

Yes, blood was important. I would understand it later but it wasn’t everything.

There were dark and bright spots and shades of grey. Like my little sisters, like adorable Sirius and wondrous Regulus. My conflicting thoughts on my soulmate, my envious twin. The most beautiful of all, magic…

This life was tumulus, uncertain but it was mine. And I owed it to myself to live it to the fullest.

I was Mira Black. A common name to appease the loathing heart of Mellania Black nee Macmillan bestowed by the Lady Black herself. Whatever you would say about Druella Rosier, she was a true Slytherin. Despite Mellania’s otherwise thought it was Druella who edged her towards my name.

After all, Mira is the common name for Omicron Ceti, the most notable star in the constellation Cetus. It’s a binary star consisting of a red giant and a white dwarf; the closest symbiotic pair of stars to the Sun. It meant ‘wonderful, astonishing’ in Latin the magical language.

A seemingly insignificant name… But then so was Tom Riddle… What a fitting pair magic made…