Obliviate

Alice Longbottom is going to Hogwarts and things are not what they seem. A terrorist that tortured her grandparants to insanity is now on the loose, people are loosing their memories day by day, and James Potter just won't stop blabbing about his latest prank! Will Alice be able to stop it before her family gets hurt?

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1. A Demon Calls Me Ugly

            Look, I didn’t ask to be a Longbottom.

            I’m sure most of you reading this think that doing magic for all your life is an amazing experience. And for most people, it is! But most people don’t have to accidentally bring a sorceress back to life, be tortured by everyone you ever knew, or worst of all, be around James Potter. But that’s because most people are not a Longbottom. Most people aren’t me.

            Also, forget that whole James thing… we’ll get to that little brat later on. For now, let me tell you about my story.

            Basically this document is the first chapter in the story of how I discovered who I was. Yeah, yeah… I know it sounds all sappy, but it’s the honest truth.

            My father, Neville, had somehow been the hero of his own story, yet the laughing stock of the world all at the same time. I surely knew that there was no way I was ever going to be him. Partly because I didn’t even know who he really was until I went to school. No one knows how much I wish I had never learned about my family’s history.

            Maybe if I hadn’t learned then she would still be… never mind. I’m getting off track.

            Oh, the times before I learned the secrets were so nice. In fact, the day that I first began to learn everything might be a good place to start. Does that sound good to you? Well, your still reading this so it must be. Oh well, I guess I’ll start at the beginning.

            My name is Alice Ginerva Longbottom, and this is the story of how I remembered.

            I began to notice my parents acting strange when I was very young. We would very often visit some of my parents’ friends. While my siblings and I would be running around the house playing “Troll, Troll, Goblin” or awesome little kid games like that while the parents would always talk about more serious stuff.

            But I never would get to hear what they said because they would hush up and began to talk about happier things whenever any of the children got near. None of the other kids suspected anything about them. Honestly, for many years, I didn’t either.

            It wasn’t until Albus Potter’s seventh birthday party before I learned anything about my family’s past. The Potters’ had invited us or rather my twin brother, Charlie, and my little sister, Annie, with them to his party and offered for the whole family to come with him. My parents basically had to force me to go.

            Don’t get me wrong. Even though they were both younger than me, I loved spending time with Albus and Lily. It was just the third child that I couldn’t stand.

            From the day I was born, James Potter had set out on a mission to make my life as miserable as possible if it was the last thing he did. And trust me, it would’ve been if I would’ve gotten my hands on him when he shaved my eyebrows off in my sleep when we were five. Or the time when he duck taped me onto the wall at the New Year’s Eve. Or the time when he… well I’m pretty sure you get the point by now.

            Anyways, I was grouped among the company of kids who weren’t old enough to go to Hogwarts. This included about three-quarters of the Weasley family so there was a large amount of kids literally just laughing at the mere mention of the word, “butt”.

            Luckily, last time I saw him, James was off messing around in the backyard with Fred Weasley and a couple other friends he had invited himself. That meant only one thing; he was far away from me. But it also meant that I was the oldest one in the room. An eight-year-old can only hear so many mentions of butt.

            So I began to venture off, finding something else to do in the giant place that the others called the Burrow. At the time, none of the members of the Weasley family actually lived there. Apparently, it had “accidentally” caught on fire years before I had been born.

            At least, that’s what my father had told me. But the questioning looks from the other children when I mention such an accident made me wonder if that’s really the reason a fire burned the place down. After all, it must have been bad enough for them to completely rebuild the entire infrastructure.

            For a couple years Grandfather and Grandfather Weasley lived inside the slightly more structured version of the Burrow, but the house was just too big for two people so they used their leftover earnings to buy a small cottage nearby.

            But still, the Weasleys and Potters use the Burrow for special occasions, get-togethers, and celebrations.

            For some reason, the Longbottom family constantly seemed to be the one family that wasn’t related to everyone. Though the Scamanders come often, Mrs. Luna apparently is a second cousin to Aunt Fleur. A few other families such as the Finnigans come every once in a while, but never nearly as much as we were.

          Sure, it was nice to be included and all, but for me personally, it could get awkward to be at the Weasley family reunion when your not even part of the family. I may call them Uncle and Aunt, but does that really make me their neice? But, hey, I’m not complaining. I’m constantly getting cake!

          As I roamed the hallways, I happened to smell food. It made me realize just how hungry I was. I then continued at a much quicker pace and followed the sound of people talking.

          You would figure that the combination of talking and food would result in a joyous party scene, but as I ran down a hallway and began to hear the sound of a man’s solemn tone, I stopped at the top of the steps that lay before me. I leaned forward, gripping onto the stair’s railing, trying to stay out of sight as the voice I had heard was matched to a face.

          “Have you even seen the Daily Prophet for the past two months?” said Uncle Harry, his face wrinkled into a worried expression. “Our children are going to be raised into a world that is getting darker each day!”

          This was going to get interesting. I began to slowly sneak down the stairs, trying to get a better view.

          “But isn’t that what you Aurors do?” Aunt Angelina said questionably. “I mean your basically what the muggles would call our police, right?”

          “Look,” interjected Aunt Hermione, “it’s not easy being apart of law enforcement. I should know. I see all the aurors everyday at the Ministy of-“

          “The ministry!” Grandfather Weasley cried. “It’s all their fault. I know it. And it’s not a conspiracy theory this time. I promise.” Uncle George tried not to crack up as everyone else began to stand up and went on fighting about more politics.

          Until finally, my mother yelled, “Quiet! All of you!” The room went silent faster than you could say… well I guess you wouldn’t say anything if you were as silent as them. She put her hand on the arm on my father who slowly began to sit down along with everyone else who began to realize his or her behavior.

            “Thank you,” she said with a sigh. “Now can we talk about something other than-“

            The hooting of an owl called outside the window and even Mother went silent. Aunt Luna stood up and walked over to the window, opening it so that the bird could come in. the owl was jet-black and had bright blue eyes that seemed to pierce through everyone’s souls in the room. As if nobody could hide anything from it.

            “It’s not mine,” Aunt Luna said as the owl flew onto her shoulder. “Does it happen to belong to any of you?”

            Everyone shook his or her head or said no as Aunt Luna noticed the note in the owl’s grasp. She began to reach out to see what the note was more closely, but the owl jumped off and darted towards someone else. In mere seconds, the owl had dropped a small paper note at the place of my Father’s.

            “It looks like it’s from the hospital,” Father said warily. News from never seemed like a good thing to him. But I never knew why at the time. Sometimes I wish I didn’t know now.

            He slowly opened the note as my mother looked over his shoulder. Others quietly talked to each other as to not to disturb the couple. Most of them figured it was just a bill or a notice that they would all eventually get in time. But I’m afraid it wasn’t like that.

            My father’s expression quickly turned confused, bewildered, then fearful. “No… no, no it’s not her,” he said repeatedly. “She’s gone! Right? There’s no way she can be back. You killed her! I saw you!” He pointed at Grandmother Weasley. “Well, didn’t you?”

            He began to start to breathe heavily and continue to refuse as if nothing was going on. I had never seen him like this. Sure, he was quite the worrisome person, but it had come this far.

            “What the bloody hell are you talking about, mate?” Uncle Ron said as others tried to calm him down. “There’s only one person my mother apparently killed and I hope you aren’t… talking about… her…” He began to trail off as he realized whom Father was apparently talking about.

            Everyone began to panic, some of them trying to find out who others were talking about, the others knowing who the madness was about but wondering what he meant by “back”.

            Meanwhile, I began to feel a pain in my head and suddenly made eye contact with the owl’s blue eyes that felt like they were daggers pushing into my skull. I fought the urge to cry out but slowly stood up and tried to back my way up the steps.

            All of a sudden I hear a SNAP and the next thing I know I was falling down the stairs in a heap. I hear the scraping of chairs as a couple of the adults come to help me up.

            “Alice!” my mother cries as she rushes over to me. “What happened? Why were you up there? Are you okay?”

            I don’t remember very much after that. The minutes that followed were times of all of the women surrounding me, trying to heal both of my scraped knees and the giant red welt left from the “mouse trap” James apparently had left on the stair above me after he saw that I was spying on the adults.

            One of the two things I do distinctly remember was the moment when Ginny yelled for James to come apologize. All he had done was complain before Aunt Ginny finally put her foot down.

            “James Sirius Potter! You will apologize to Alice right now!” she said sternly.

            “But why?” James had said with a pouty face. “I think she perfectly deserved what she got for being a sneak!”

            “She could have died James!”

            “I know,” James said with a laugh as a boyish grin spread across his face.

            “He’s a demon!” I yelled dramatically. “James Potter was trying to kill me! Demon! Demon!”

            You do have to remember that we were both eight at the time. But it didn’t matter. We still hated each other. At this point, I was just glad that no one had asked me about my “spying” that James had spoken of.

            As the other women calmed me down, Aunt Ginny went up to him and whispered something in his ear. In the years after this, I learned that his mother had threatened to take away his favorite stuffed animal that he had named Padfoot.

            When she backed away, he made another pouty face before he said, “I’m sorry for almost killing you again.” It took a moment for everyone to realize what he had said.

          “What do you mean again?!” I had yelled out surprised.

          He just grinned and said, “I just had to apologize to you for something you clearly needed. You’re not getting anymore than that!”

          Uncle Harry began to walk over after hearing the last couple exchanges between the two. “Hey, hey,” he said with a laugh. “At least your mother didn’t say you had to kiss her.” Both of our faces turned a light shade of pink.

          “Yuck…” James said as he began to walk away and join his friends at the top of the stairs. “I don’t kiss ugly girls.”

          At that point, I was enraged. “Let me at him!” I yelled as my mother held me down on the couch. The rest of the women began to talk about how James wouldn’t be such a nuisance when he got older. But I didn’t believe them. I still don’t think they’re exactly right.

          Aunt Ginny quickly tried to apologize to my mother saying that James would be better behaved next time we visited. That’s what she always said. It never happened.

          It’s funny, ever since that party none of the adults, including my parents ever asked me what I was doing on those steps. Then again, at the time, my father was in enough shock from his message. I still had no idea who this “she” was. But apparently the stress was enough to make our entire family leave early.

          The years that were to come after that were unfortunately full of questions, answers, and discoveries I wish I never would have made. Because eventually the effect of my discoveries would be that I would lose them all in seconds.

          Though I may not of realized this as an eight-year-old, it would cause me to grow-up way too fast in the years to come.

          In fact, I think it’s about time that we fast forward a couple years in my life to the day my life as a witch really began. The day I boarded the Hogwarts Express.

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