107 Don't let your Dreams be Dreams, Just Do It

"Damn your eyes, Vee. Using my own spells against me?" said the man with a bitter laugh. "I've always had a soft spot for the beauties, and look at where it got me."

It wasn't the same dream as the one on the train. The characters were still the same, the man and the woman, though Oleandra still couldn't make out the man's face; every time she tried to get a good look at him, his traits would appear out of focus.

"Now, I have you all to myself. In this life, in the next, and forevermore," the woman said softly. "You don't need to worry; I'll take care of things on the outside."

This dream must have taken place before the first one, Oleandra realized. Obviously, the woman had made some sort of mistake that led to the destruction of everything the pair had held dear.

"Forevermore?" the man scoffed. "I think not. I may be trapped, but I still have some tricks up my sleeve."

He mumbled something under his breath.

"What did you do to me?" the woman snapped. "I felt something."

"I call it the Fidelius Seal," the man said haughtily. "My own personal twist on the Fidelius Charm; it hides a secret shared between people in their souls."

"What secret?" the woman asked tentatively.

"I've seen what you've done to your nephew," the man scoffed. "I've hidden three things; your true name, your magic, and just to be on the safe side, your monstrous talent for Transfiguration."

The man sighed.

"It's a shame that I couldn't include your love for me in the list," he said wistfully. "Interfering with love always warps magic in the most unexpected ways. Wouldn't want this to backfire on me."

"So what?" the woman replied. "Even if my sisters and the entire world forget me, I'll still remember who I am. And most importantly, so will you. We're both Secret Keepers, after all."

"Ah, but that's where you're dead wrong," the man said, his eyes glinting. "It's true that you know about the secret. You're even free to share it with whoever you want, to make them remember you. But there's one person you won't be able to tell."

"Who?" asked the woman nervously.

"You said it yourself," the man replied nonchalantly. "In this life, in the next, and forevermore. The secret will remain in your soul for as long as it exists. You won't be able to tell yourself. In your next reincarnations, you will always be a Squib, since you'll forget about the secret when you die."

The man grinned.

"And without your magic, you will never be able to make it back to this place," he added. "You had better make your visits count; the future may be clouded to me here, but I did divine one thing before you trapped me here. You will not make it through what comes next."

"…having a nightmare," Oleandra heard a voice say. "I wasn't sure if I should wake you up, but you looked really miserable."

Huh? Where was she? Why was everything all dark? 

Oleandra was momentarily disorientated right after her abrupt awakening. Little by little, she started remembering. The Quidditch match. The fall. The Dementors had been furious at her, and they had nearly drained her dry. And then the pretty boy had caught her. And then… she and Harry had been made to spend the weekend under observation in the Hospital Wing. She had gone to sleep in the evening.

"Right," Oleandra said, once she had got her bearings. "Thanks, Harry."

And then, she plopped her head back into her pillow and lay there, staring at this ceiling which she was starting to get familiar with. How many times had she ended up in the Hospital Wing since her first year?

Oleandra started organizing what she had learned from this dream and cross-referencing the information with what she already knew.

Firstly, Dementors made their victims relive their worst memories to better extract their positive emotions; this was a widely known fact. However, Oleandra had no recollection of these people outside of her two dreams. She was positive she had never witnessed such a scene, and even if she had, why would it have been her worst experience?

Secondly, the so-called expert on souls, Mr. Diary of Tom Riddle, had told her that her soul had been cursed at birth to render her unable to use magic. This had always nagged at her, as why would anyone curse a baby to be a Squib?

Put two and two together, and an answer appeared. The woman in the dream had to be her past incarnation. The events she had lived through must have been so traumatic that they permanently scarred her very soul, so that even the cycle of reincarnation couldn't wash her completely clean.

It appeared that in her past life, Oleandra had been the jealous type, and she was now being unfairly punished for it. This mysterious man from God knows how many years ago had cursed her to be unable to use magic!

"Hang on, Oleandra," she told herself. "The man mentioned something about a special magic that hid secrets in souls. I should be privy to the secret, since he basically told me about the secrets himself, albeit through a dream."

A thought occurred. She had basically already solved her magic issue, but what about…?

"I am a Transfiguration genius," Oleandra said out loud. "I have once in a millennium Transfiguration talent."

"Are you sure you're all right?" Harry asked worriedly. "The Dementors must have done quite the number on you. You're even worse than Ron at Transfiguration, remember?"

Oleandra scowled; this wasn't helping. If she didn't believe it herself, how was she supposed to break the seal? She focused on the memory of the woman in her dreams. Beautiful, graceful, elegant. Transfigured her nephew for fun. She was a Transfiguration genius.

"I am a Transfiguration genius," Oleandra said firmly, pointing her index at a nearby bedpan. "Ducklifors."

And this time, it worked; she used the Transfiguration spell she was most familiar with. As the bedpan transformed into a beautiful Mandarin duck, Oleandra felt as if an invisible pressure had been lifted from her shoulders.

"You're a Transfiguration genius," Harry said numbly, as he gazed at the duck. That had been wandless magic, just now. Why hadn't his run-in with Dementors given him any perks? This was unfair!

Oleandra grinned. She was still her own self, a different person from her past incarnation. No profound Transfiguration knowledge had appeared in her head out of nowhere; she would still need to practise and learn spells, but now, nothing was holding her back any longer!