Chapter Text
The Department of Mysteries held an ambiance of darkness that molded into her bones. Shadows crept in the corners, brewing fresh curiosities that would make most wizards scream. It was the one place that the ministry could not touch. A freedom to study and explore in such a way that even the Restricted Section at Hogwarts was never able to provide.
Perhaps that is why, with its black-tinted walls and long corridors, that made it feel like home. For she had always been curious, seeking to know more about herself and the world around her. When the sorting hat touched her head, Ravenclaw was the only option. No other house held appeal for her growing mind. As an unspeakable, she could touch the darkest and most beautiful aspects of knowledge hidden from the rest of the world.
Until it was all ripped from her.
She pressed onward. She knew the department more than she knew the secret tunnels in Hogwarts. Every twist and turn was a mystery broken and solved. She could touch everything and find her way home with closed eyes. So, walking down the long hallway bathed in blue and white light, to the black door and stepping into the rotating room with marble flooring was comforting. The room spun but the confusion never came. The nausea and overwhelming panic that she felt the first time in such a place could not be found because she knew the door she wanted, needed, and the magic could not halt her.
The Hall of Prophecies was not her choice of study within the department. The unknown mystery that was far darker held more appeal for her. The magical gateway that the ministry built itself around centuries before her birth. The wispy smoke and whispers of the damned always beckoned her forward. Her palm would grace the translucent white ash and listen to the voices just from the other side. There was both someone and no one just on the other side and she knew one day, she would solve the mystery of what just lay behind it.
Yet the Chamber of Death is not what called her now. Her destination led somewhere else, a hall that she had only been in once or twice but enough to know where to find what she was looking for. Rows and rows of shelves greeted her just beyond the second door. Blue and white glass orbs neatly packed away. When the battle many years happened deep within the rows, shattering the obres that rested on the iron shelves. Many thought the mystery of prophecies was lost in the chaos.
But magic is a fickle and funny thing, prophecies are meant to be heard and kept for possible futures that both could and may never come to pass. The hall restored itself and the former keeper looked on it with a smile and the truth died with him.
The Hall of Prophecy welcomed her with a cold embrace, telling her that she belonged among the orbs. Whispers echoed around her, beckoning her forward. She weaved among the shelves like a waltz, her steps choreographed and precise; as though she was the only one who could hear the music that played. Her name was etched in the air like a solemn vow.
Row 98
Row 99
Row 100
The whispers grew louder as she passed each of the orbs. She nearly froze when she heard the laughter; clear as day and almost childlike. The air in her lungs pierced, filling her with such terror that she could not express the melancholy anxiety that consumed her. A Ravenclaw she may be but a coward she was not. She stepped into the row and lingered among the prophecies, seeking the one that was speaking to her. Halfway down she paused, turned to her left and leaned into the whispers. She reached for the golden tag that hung off the orb that shined brighter than the rest.
K.P to A.W
Mikaelson(?) and C. Forbes (?)
Possibly unknown child (?)
The last bit was written in a familiar hand, a question that she could read in the parenthalizes. It spoke of doubt but not enough to prevent such a betrayal that set her on this course. Part of her wanted to be justified, understandable in the actions that had been taken while the other part wanted to prove the person she had once called a friend wrong. To enforce the guilt that she knew would follow.
It was the moment that could change everything but either way pain would follow; either physical or emotional and she did not know which one would be worse. She reached out, the tips of her fingers making contact first. She had thought the orb would be cold but she felt a burst of warmth fill her as she lifted it from its home and cradled it in her palms. An unfamiliar voice touched her ear, distant and knowing.
Both beast and magic merge
Knowing that she would have to wait before hearing the rest, she opened the leather satchel that was slung over her shoulder and nestled the orb inside. She gazed down at it in its new resting place, embracing the fresh wave of despair that overcame her. She had wanted the physical pain, to be unable to touch the orb at all. Yet, holding it in her hand revealed the truth. The prophecy was about her and the future suddenly became further unknown.
She could not linger. It was always strange how vacant the Department of Mysteries was. An unknown number of unspeakables worked within its darkness and yet they rarely ever met one another. It was as though the department did not want even their mysteries shared among their own. She feared no one stopping her within those walls because the Hall of Prophecy wanted her to have what belonged to her. If it did not, it would have let her know.
Her mind was fighting the thoughts that invaded it and she paid little attention to the direction her feet took her but she knew that she would not lose herself. The department would not allow it, guiding her towards the ministry above and into the falling snow of another dying year. December rang cold, her breath frozen in air and frigid but she felt beauty in the silent ache. She stepped once again into the entrance chamber, the door shutting tightly behind her and the walls began to rotate, changing their courses.
“Exit.” The word left her lips in an unfamiliar tone, startling herself. A door burst open, leading her back down the dark hall with blue and white torches hanging on the walls. She left the department and did not look back, wondering if she would ever step foot inside of it again. Wondering if she would ever know the truth of the Veil and what lingered behind it. There was a prickle in the back of her mind, a soft farewell and one that told her that one day she would see the haunting beauty of the Department of Mysteries again.
One day she would be back.
The rest of the Ministry of Magic was brighter and busier. Each level holding their own brand of chaos with owls swooping overhead, dropping messages from one wizard to another. The people rushed around, trying to complete one task after another. Many passed her, sending a smile in her direction but she did not stop to talk. She needed to leave the ministry as quickly as possible and making idle chat with false acquaintances was not productive to her limited time. The Atrium was not as crowded, for most did not leave in the middle of the work day, buying her a more of the never ending solitude that had become her constant companion.
The Fountain of Magical Brethren was as imposing as ever. Standing tall and encompassed with gold, water flowing all around it. She peered down into the pool that showed an unfamiliar reflection. Long brown hair with matching wide eyes stared back at her. It was a beautiful deception that she had never really thought herself capable of.
“Elena!” Her body froze at the sound of his voice. She had almost not turned around but knew that fleeing would only cause the absence of the prophecy to be discovered quicker. She spun around, seeing him strolling towards her with cocky confidence that made her stomach clench. She could never understand his appeal, the magnetic force her friend had felt about him.
“Damon.”
“What are you doing? Leaving?” He asked her, his cold eyes traveling the length of her, causing her to feel as though ice froze in her veins. Damon had always been the most haunting of nightmares in the back of her mind; playing tricks on her as she slept. She could never see past his cruelty in Hogwarts to understand how her friend had fallen in love with such a monster. Even when she had been with Stefan, watching his forlong gaze stare at Elena, she had not been thankful for such a romance.
“Just an errand. I’ll be back.” She told him, hoping to move away from him and grab some flu powder before he was able to inquire into the truth further. He would learn of her deception soon enough, possibly before the ministry closed at sundown. Yet, she found that she had little time to test the boundaries of time such a disguise required. “I’ll see you later.”
Damon reached out, taking a hold of her elbow and gently spinning her back to face him. She studied her face and gone was the arrogant smile and mischievous eyes that she had begun to associate with him. In their place was a look of suspicion and concern, a look that filled her stomach with dread; a fear she only had when the ministry had come knocking on her door.
“Elena, you need to stop this.” His voice was low, and his cold eyes flickered around the Atrium, searching for those who seek to eavesdrop upon such privacy that she should not even be privy to. “I know that you’re feeling guilty about Caroline, but you did the right thing. You went to the minister because you are the Keeper of Prophecies. If Caroline and Klaus have a child-”
“We don’t know that. We know nothing and I ruined her life because-”
“Because the wizarding world cannot afford another war.” His tone grew frustrated, and she could tell that the argument was not something new. It was one that would have been tossed back and forth since the conception of Elena’s betrayal. “Whatever that prophecy means, something born between Klaus and Caroline will bring about darkness. Ending it now before it can begin is the only choice you have.”
“Doesn't make it easy.” She pulled her arm out of his grasps, wanting to be as far away from him as possible. She turned her back on him, wondering just how much he knew about the secrets that the Department of Mysteries held. Vows were taken for their silence, the secrets they learned were not to be shared among those who were not welcome in the department's embrace. “I have to go.”
“I’ll see you tonight, okay?” He called after her but she did not turn around. She grabbed a clay jar off the top of a fireplace and grabbed a handful of the brown and graining powder. She stepped into the crate, the uniform stone fireplace emcompsing her. She looked up to see Damon still watching her, and she knew that flooring to where she was needed was not a wise idea. Instead, she released her fingers and allowed the grain to fall around her.
“The Boarding House.”
Green flames consumed her, a pleasant tickling tracing her skin. She closed her eyes and Damon, along with the ministry, began to fade away, her body dancing alongside the flames as she traveled. It was only seconds but long enough for her to feel a moment of peace until she stepped out into the massive family room of the Boarding House. The Salvatore home, an old pureblood family, was nestled a long distance away from the ministry in the English countryside. The high ceilings with wooden panels lacked warmth and kindness, hauntings of the family’s past sins etched on the walls.
She stepped out of the fireplace, still gripping the leather satchel around her shoulder and turned to one of the velvet sofas. Her mirror image laid across it, the rising of her chest telling her that she was still alive. The sleeping curse she had placed on her merely hours ago is still in effect. Several locks of her brown hair laid on the wood flooring, evidence of her crime that she did not feel the need to cover up. She was already damned for something she had not done. She kneeled down in front of her sleeping form and pushed the brown hair out of her face, wondering just how far their friendship had fallen.
“Goodbye Elena.” She stood quickly and raised her wand, pointing it directly at the iron crate she had just stepped from. It was not a final solution or one that would buy her freedom but it would give her enough time to step away in case Damon suspected that it was not his wife he just conversed with. “ Confringo.”
The fireplace shattered into a thousand pieces, coating the room in wood and soot. She turned away, heading towards the tall wooden door, the terrifying lion carved onto the door, echoing the Salvatore family crest. She touched it for a moment, feeling the lumps and cursed for the design before pushing the door open and stepping out into the cold December sunlight, pulling her cloak around her tighter.
Snow was falling around her as she walked down the lane, snowflakes touching her nose as she went. She did not look back to see the massive house covered in white, showing a purity that it did not possess. It would not be long before ministry officials swarmed it, handing Elena a warm blanket and sympathy. Damon spewing anger and bile at the thought that someone would dare harm a single hair on her head. The feelings of Elena and the drama that came with her, were no longer a problem she felt the need to solve.
Once she stepped over the magical boundary Damon had set, she closed her eyes again and turned, thinking about the one place that had kept her sane in the past few weeks. As she let out a breath, turning to see the imposing manor before her. Dark clouds touched its pointed towers and the windows looked like dark looking glass that held emerald hues inside. The essence of Slytherin carved into the white stone and the manicured gardens that surrounded it with flowers that only bloomed in the dead of night. It was a home hidden from those who did not know where it was. Such magic made it safe for her to hide and to never be found again.
Taking a breath, feeling the oncoming frozen hair that was threatening to fall, she began strolling down the lane and towards the front of the manor. Her brown hair slowly began to fade away to blonde and her limbs growing taller as the potion faded. Brown eyes turned blue and the last trace of Elena she held slipped away as though she had not been there at all. Gone was the girl she had once loved like a sister, only replaced by such bitter betrayal.
She walked up the small stairs to the porch, listening to the black wood creaking beneath her feet. Her fingers curled into her palms and she raised them but before she could press her knuckles against the door, it opened revealing the one who had taken her in without a single question asked, all because she knew that her brother would have offered such protection. The friendship between her and youngest Mikaelson was a curious thing. Rivals at Hogwarts, one a Slytherin and the other a Ravenclaw- both determined to be the best and mutual respect blossomed in their disdain for the other.
“Caroline.” Rebekah let out a low breath, relief etched in her voice. She stood aside and allowed Caroline to pass, stepping into the dark and haunting manor. Caroline had never stepped foot inside before the world began to crumble, for she had no reason too. There was little pleasantness about it, from the dark wood to the almost cracked paneling on the walls. Paintings of dead Mikaelson’s moved in their frames alone with the former matriarch resting above the fireplace. “I thought you were coming by floo?”
“I ran into a small complication, but it doesn't matter.”
“Did you get it?” Rebekah asked as she closed the door, the sound of the locks magically falling into place could be heard. Caroline walked past the winding staircase and into the dining area, where an impossibly long table waited; surrounded by empty chairs covered in emerald velvet. She placed the satchel on the table and pulled her black cloak off, tossing it to the side. She reached inside the bag and pulled the glowing orb from it. “Only the Keeper of Prophecies and those who are foretold in them could touch the orbs. It let you pull it from the shelf….that means-”
“That the prophecy is indeed about me.” Caroline answered her, not taking her eyes off the orb. Rebekah sunk down into one of the chairs, looking at the glass orb. The white clouds swirled and in their depths, Caroline could see a pair of brown eyes staring back at her. These eyes were kind but all knowing in a way that sent a chill down her spine. “And your brother.”
“What does it say? Is Elena correct, that the next dark lord will-”
Caroline held up a finger, silencing her. Rebekah, for the first time in living memory, followed the silent request. An eerily silence lingered over them and Caroline could not break the connection with the orb. The ghostly image of a woman Caroline had never met gazing back at her with such understanding made her wonder at who she possibly could be. The mysterious seer opened her lips and a beautiful voice reached her ears.
Both beast and magic merge
Souls waxing and waning with desire
For the one with a golden crown
A vow made in the aftermath of betrayal
Bringing forth a descendant of darkness
And a progeny of light
Caroline ran the words over and over in her mind, trying to understand each line and the mysteries behind them. She tried to find such logic in Elena’s decision, wondering how such a conclusion could be met within those words. Fear was understandable because it was slowly becoming Caroline’s constant companion but she found nothing in the prophecy that would lead to believe that a child born out of a non-existent union between her and Klaus was foretold.
“That could mean anything!” Rebekah cried, staring at the orb with a mixture of weariness and disbelief. “I know Elena was never the brightest of girls, and has a martyr complex that Gryffindors are typically cursed with, but how could she assume that my brother’s child would become the next one to bring about war and chaos!?”
“I don’t know.” Caroline whispered, the words playing in her mind like a melody. They settled a sort of peace inside her that she had not expected. She wanted to solve this mystery, learn what it was that awaited her. The feeling rivaled the curiosity and desire she felt for the department of mysteries. It was a need that pulsed and thrived in her, a desire to know what it was behind that wispy smoke in such an ancient artifact.
“Well, Elena has always held such disdain for me that I suppose it is little surprise she would assume any child of mine would be the next dark lord.” A haunting and solemn voice sounded from behind her and a child ran through her. She set the glass orb down upon the table, sucking in a breath as she turned around to see Klaus standing just in the entrance of the dining room.
Klaus looked as she remembered him. Tall like a willow with pale skin and blonde hair with a hint of curl to it. There was a stay curl that hung down into his eyes, and Caroline could see a dampness in the blonde lock, as though he had just come from bathing. He wore fitted and dark robes that when they moved, there was a slight emerald hint to them, reminding her of the Slytherin blood that ran in the Mikaelson veins.
Yet, Klaus was a Mikaelson in name only.