Engraved (Harry AU)

Every part of me feels as if it's trapped in a cage, confining me while the light inside flickers on and off in a repetitive manner. At times, I just try to laugh it off, but it just makes my insides feel more numb and painless as if all the blood within me has drained, leaving only my hollow engraved flesh as a souvenir for the hopefuls and more fortunate to view. Some people may think I am depressed, and many even deranged, but as my grandfather used to tell me, I am just a tortured soul that has not yet found an angel to free me.
The tragic and so cold hearted truth is that I have. The person whom those words we're spoken out of, was the brightest and most liberating glow I have ever witnessed.
I begin to promenade through the halls, pulling my long, dark blue sleeves down, in hope that no one will ever notice. The halls of this treacherous place are so well lit up and bright, yet I've never seen a more darker site.
My chapped bottom lip is harshly being bitten down by my top row of teeth, as my eyes try to emphasize on the anatomy book being held tightly in my grasp . The pain is still non-existent as I bite down harder and as my best friend known as anxiety begins to visit me on time as usual.
"Satanical bitch."
"Ugly ass emo."
My eyelids shut tight, trying to hold back the liquid that is threatening to drench the skin of my cheeks. My feet motivate me to move further, but my brain is begging for an exit, begging for a deep hole to appear to help hide myself in.
"How many animal sacrifices have you performed today?"
"Shut up! She may trap people now!"
They call me demonic and evil when all I am is just a human being that deeply misses her departed grandfather, while they blow punches and pieces of their desolated souls at me, trying to run me over with every bit of foulness they possibly obtain in their youthful bodies.
My eyelids open up slightly in a narrowed manner as I try to head to the white metal door that belongs to my creative writing class without paying attention to anyone.
I'm almost successful in my attempt until I suddenly feel my hands and the right side of my face hit the ground, with my book crashing only centimeters away from me.
My dignity and pride shatters into a million of worthless fragile pieces in front of about a quarter of the student body, when they win and that clear liquid that symbolizes weakness, escapes the barriers known as my eyes.
The thing I dread the most about this humility is not everyone's laughter, or the fact that someone actually pushed me...no; it's the fact that I was supposed to feel something, but all I felt was the warm liquid on my cheeks. No pain. Just a reminder of my hollow soul.
"Hey. All of you get out of here!" An elderly recognizable voice echoes through my ears.
I hear more snickers release from people's lips before the sound of the bell rings and I'm soon barely back on my knees.
I dust off the dirt from my black denim jeans before I bend down and grab the book for my most hated subject.
"Thank you." I force out in a whisper to Mr. S, my attention on the book.
"No problem." The shriveled old man responds.
I just nod before I stroll right passed him to enter his class.
I try to ignore the scowls and whispers as I walk to the seat in the back corner of the room, next to the stacked up old text books.
I place my third period book on my desk, I sit down, I take out my phone from my left pocket, and I begin to continue reading the new book I downloaded this weekend, while I await for Mr. S to begin teaching.
Mr. S is a very charismatic man who is many times annoying, due to his always happy nature, yet very attention grabbing, like a good book with a dull cover.
I soon slip my updated phone back where it came from, when I hear the sound of the rusty door click closed.
"Good morning class!" He chants as if this Monday morning is the most joyous day of all eternity.
His bright white, balding hair is gelled back very slickly, his bright red tie is adjusted and neatly knotted, his back is still hunched as always, his wrinkles seem more indented in his skin, and his white and blue striped dress shirt with matching navy blue slacks both seem ironed neatly. He resembles an ancient fossil that has just been discovered, yet when it's dust is brushed off, is more clear and even brighter to the eye.
He claps his wrinkled hands together in an enthusiastic way, waking many students up from their slumber in the process, before turning to the white board right behind him and beginning to write something down with a dark purple marker.
"Okay class. Last quarter you all we're supposed to read a book I assigned you. Am I correct?" He says before he turns around and blocks his writing, so no one can see.
His smile is as evident as the stars being held by the dark night sky, and is beginning to irritate me.
Everyone agrees and nods tiredly in unison, causing him to smile even more.
"Well can you all please take the books out of your bags and pass them up to the front of your row, so I am able to collect them? Then I can finally reveal its title."
The sound of zippers unzipping, pollute the air and one by one books are being passed up to the front.
All the book covers as well as back covers have yellow construction paper glued to them. Each quarter Mr. S passes us a book and demands that we read it, without having a clue about its title and or author. Whenever someone would question his motives, he would always respond with the same answer, Mystery is like trying a new food blindfolded. The food may be revolting looking, yet not knowing makes you examine and savor its exquisite flavor more intensely.
He is very hidden and deep that way. He won't even tell us his name, since he thinks that it adds more mystery and interest in the class, so he tells us to just call him Mr. S.
The girl in front of me turns her head and some of her body to face me, her hand reaching out as if she's waiting for me to give her something, an annoyed glare obvious in her features.
"Well? Do you have the book or not?!" She says with anger beginning to rise in her tone.
I feel myself redden from embarrassment and sudden realization and I just shake my head, causing her to huff and roll her eyes before she turns back.
Mr. S for these past two quarters has not given me a book, since he knows that I always figure out the book's title and author by the first sentence, due to my very extended library as well as my very obvious unpopularity.
I always write the mandatory summary of the story and I turn it in, always receiving the highest possible grade, due to my vivid explanations.
Once all the books are all in stacks at the front of each disorganized row of faded auburn colored wooden desks, Mr. S begins to speak once again.
"What did you all think about this piece of literature?" He asks with much interest and curiosity.
The class genius, Gerald Hangen shoots his hand in the air almost instantly, receiving some remarks about him being a nerd. The thing about Gerald is that he knows how intelligent he is, thus taking everyone's insults and labels as compliments and reassurance of how smart he truly is.
I wish I could be as confident as him, but I am not really skilled education wise besides reading and writing. And I don't really feel very proud in being called satanical, the devil's child, and many others that I don't even have time to think of at this moment.
"I thought that it was an insight of what our government most likely will intentionally be in the future. Our society soon will lose all independence and become enslaved mentally to a totalitarian way of living." He remarks, sounding once again like the reincarnation of the great Albert Einstein.
Mr. S just nods his head.
"That's a very interesting and open way of seeing it. Very good description Gerald."
Gerald nods in satisfaction.
"Anyone else?" Mr. S asks, his eyes roaming the silent classroom.
No one raises their hand and even makes a sound, not wanting to prove their independent minds.
I set my eyes on the desk and I begin to rub imaginary circles on the surface as if it we're the most interesting in the world.
"How about you Lolita?"
I feel my eyes widen and the room instantly freezes, making my whole body shiver and in need of automatic warmth.
"Lolita?" He repeats.
I slowly glance up, noticing all the sets of eyes on me, waiting for me to say something so they can preserve in their minds and figure out yet another way of breaking me.
"I um. Well what Gerald said." I simply say.
Call me a coward, call me a hypocrite, but you first must understand how careful I have to be with my words. Anything I say will be used against me and will soon haunt my nightmares, which is another reason why I don't enjoy interacting with anyone.
Mr. S stares at me with a frown of disappointment and he shakes his head a little.
"Well um ya. Thank you for pointing that out." He comments, causing the class to whisper with one another.
I close my eyes trying to block out the many mutters of hurtful words towards me.
"Silence class silence."
The noise begins to die down as we all turn our attention back to the board.
"The title of the novel is called.....drum roll please."
Silence.
"The Giver by Lois Lowry!"
Mr. S soon coughed and fixed his tie uncomfortably once he noticed the lack of interest from the students and continued to speak about the story and the author's view of future which is very similar to Gerald's opinion. What a surprise.
After about half an hour, Mr. S finally takes out a whole new stack of books, these covered with blue construction paper. The book looks thick and I'm already assuming that it's most likely a Harry potter novel since everyone has been demanding for one.
"Now this book is my all time favorite. It is a coming to age story and I think that many of you will really relate to it in a personal level." He says as he begins to pass each one desk by desk individually.
I can't help but raise an eyebrow as he places on in front of me.
"Mr. S I-"
He smiles and leans his head towards me.
"Trust me Lolita. You have not read this one." he whispers in a soft tone, leaving me even more confused than I have been.
He walks back to his desk and begins to talk about the proper way of writing a narrative prompt, losing almost half of the class's attention.
I stare at the book and I poke it slightly as if it we're another species I have not been acquainted with.
What's the significance of this novel anyway? A coming to age book he says. I bet all my being that it's a Tom Green novel.
I glance at the amount of pages and I bite my bottom lip again.
Though it seems too big to be one.
I shrug before I decide upon myself to actually pay attention since I don't want to fail my class.
...
Last period has just ended and I am now heading to my steel guarding capsule or my locker, trying to grab all my belongings necessary for my homework before anyone can bother me further for today.
I already have gotten pushed, called disgusting names, and tripped. I feel emotionally exhausted due to my routine crying session in a bathroom stall and I also really need to head to the store I found out about through my email the other day.
I don't like holding my bag the whole day at school, because people usually enjoy jumping me and taking it, just to pester me. So ever since last year, I keep all the necessities in my pockets and the rest in my dear locker.
My dark suede maroon colored satchel is now on my shoulder and I begin to rush through the halls.
"Ahh!" I yell as I feel my dark brown hair being pulled, bringing me back along with it.
"Where do you think you're going?" A putrid deep voice says in my ear.
I close my eyes once again and I feel my knees beginning to weaken.
"I-I-"
"Answer me bitch!" he repeats. The voice belonging to the oh so lovely Daryl Kendall with his two goons most likely behind him, supporting his violent ways.
"Home! 'm going home!" I answer quickly causing him to laugh.
He lets go of my hair and spins me around to face him.
His blonde medium lengthened hair is falling over his crystal light olive green eyes making him seem like a demon in disguise as a tragically beautiful angel.
"What? Do you have to sacrifice a poor dog now?" He whispers in between chuckles.
I feel my lips part as he tightens his grip around my cut up hidden wrist.
I hold back the smile that wants to creep out, because when I'm with Daryl he actually makes me feel something, yet I don't want him to purposely punch me. Well then again, I deserve it. Even though the feeling is pain, it does make me feel a little better and brings me a sense of relief for a second.
"I don't and have never sacrificed anything." I choke out honestly.
He throws me to the floor harshly.
"Liar!" He yells before he kicks my side and saunters off with his expected group of followers.
I get up hesitantly and I grab my belongings, strolling to the parking lot to go to my car. I really loathe how expensive looking my car is. It's a solid white BMW and all it is a symbol for how materialistically my parents think I am. They don't talk to me, or even greet me, yet they buy this as a sign of their 'affection'. They could've used the money to donate to a charity or to at least save for their own retirement, but no. All I am to them is a pet that they keep in a cage, not even paying attention to it. Just feeding it and spoiling it until it finally deceases from lack of adoration and fresh air.
I sigh before I grab my keys from my back pocket and unlocking the horrid crystal looking automobile.
Once I sit inside, I throw my stuff uncaring to the other seat and I begin to warm up the car.
I don't buckle my seatbelt, because well I never do. Safety is not important to me. Some days I actually hope for a car to come crashing into me and if I die, they can just blame the seatbelt and not my lack of esteem.
I place a CD in the CD player my mother had custom implanted into the car, and I begin to listen to the soothing sounds of XX, The Neighbourhood, The Temper Traps, and many more of my alternative guilty pleasures.
Music is my escape from reality and without it, I probably would be in an asylum as we speak, scratching the walls with my finger tips until they bleed.
I grab my bag and I place it on my lap, rummaging through it to look for the paper with the directions to this place that will 'change my life' as it is promised on the flyer I printed from the internet.
Well here we go.
...
The store is a hole in the wall store, next to a seamstress and a psychic company. I tighten the picture in my left hand and the flyer in my other, with my wallet secure in my pocket.
I glance at the flyer one last time before I take in a deep breath and I walk in through the dirty looking brown door that has a sign that says Sammy's printed on the top.
A bell chimes and I already regret my decision once I notice how modern and clean looking the store is. All the other 'magic' related stores I've been to looked all mystic and dark looking while this one resembles an H and R block.
This can't be the place... I mean how stupid do they think I am?
"Welcome." A female voice from the back says.
My eyes roam the area and for a second I think I'm hallucinating since I cannot find the owner of that voice.
"How can I help you?!" I hear the voice again and I soon feel a little relieved once I see a woman stand up from behind the counter.
I walk up to her and I raise an eyebrow.
"My name is-"
"Sammy?" I question.
She laughs, making me feel slightly annoyed.
"No actually Rein. My mother's name is Sammy."
I nod my head.
Rein is an attractive woman. She has blonde hair pulled up in a messy bun, light brown eyes, and a very forced looking smile. She looks as if she's in her late thirties, and looks as modern as her store or her mother's store.
I hand her the flyer.
"Um, I heard that you could help me." I say, still unsure if I should spend the $200 for something that probably won't work.
She glances at the flyer and smiles at me after she puts the flyer down on the counter.
"Who would you like to visit?"
I stay silent for a moment as I look down at the black and white picture of my grandfather who was thirty three at the time in this photograph. He's in his classroom holding a model solar system he made proudly, his hair gelled to the side and his work clothes looking very out dated.
Tears begin to well in my eyes as I hand her the picture.
"My grandfather." I mutter.
Her fake grin softens and becomes genuine.
"I can help you with that. But do you have th-"
I hand her the $200 in cash and she just nods a little as she grabs it and bends down to grab something from behind the counter.
She takes out a medium glass sized bottle filled with a bright pink liquid.
I sniffle and I wipe the water at the brim of my eyes.
"Please. Please don't be lying to me. I know you need money, but I have been to too many stores like yours, have spent a lot of my own money, and have been disappointed each time at the result. You don't understand how much I need to see him. So please." I admit as I look sincerely in her eyes, while grabbing her wrist over the counter.
I see her eyes go to my hand and I can tell that she spot some of my revealing wounded skin, causing me to quickly let go and place it in my pocket.
"I promise it will work. I know I may not be old fashioned looking like the rest but...if it doesn't work I'll even give you a refund. Okay?" she mutters, trying to gain my trust.
I stare at the bottle and I slowly grab it. I shake the liquid back and forth trying to see if I can tell what it's made of.
"What do I do with it? Do I drink it?" I ask, as I turn my gaze back to the skinny blonde.
Her eyes widen in alert as she walks from the counter to face me.
She's wearing a plain purple polo with khakis and dark brown flats and is quite tall.
"No no. Don't you ever drink this!"
I step slightly back, a little bewildered by her urgent comment. I guess I don't drink it.
"May I?" She asks as she points to the picture.
I nod my head and I hand her the photograph.
She stares at it and narrow her eyes in concentration at it.
"Do you happen to know what year this picture was taken in?"
"My grandmother labeled all the pictures on the back with the date." I say.
She turns the picture around and stares at the black almost faded writing.
"October 18th 1948." She reads.
I just nod, unsure of how else to respond.
"Why may I ask did you pick this picture? I mean it's very old."
I bite my bottom lip and I shrug.
"I-I don't know. It's just that it's really the only picture I could find where he looked happy and pain free. He could walk in this picture." I say the last words in a low tone, as I look down at the simply white tiled floor.
"Okay. Well if this is going to work, we're going to have to make you dress the part." She says.
I look up, confusion most likely obvious in my features.
"Well sweetie, if you go like that then you'll be very out of place. I mean they didn't even have low rise jeans back then. People will become suspicious." She adds.
"Oh." I simply say.
Where am I going to find clothes from the late 1940's in Wisconsin?
"Here." She says as she grabs my wrist delicately and drags me to the back, the bottle still remained in my hold and the picture still remained in hers.
Our feet lead us to a closet in the back and I feel my jaw plop to the ground.
It's a gigantic looking closet filled with many many many old clothing that look completely real and vintage.
"Why do you have all these clothes?"
Her grip loosens as she chuckles at my bewilderment.
"You don't think my customers are the only ones that need to go back do you? Sometimes I need to do certain things that aren't exactly in this time period."
My eyebrows raise and I begin to feel a little giddy. Maybe this isn't a scam.
"Come here....I haven't catched your name."
"Lolita."
She nods her head and grins.
"Well Lolita I think this dress will fit. Why don't you go try it on?"
She hands me the most hideous piece of clothing I have ever be held. It is a deep red, high collar, mid calf length dress with a black swirl pattern on the bottom. It looks like it would be very tight on the waist and I already know the lack of comfort I am going to witness once it is on my body. What? It may be horrible, but I would do anything to hear the sound of my grandfather's voice again.
I snatch it regrettably and I begin to undress once she leaves and closes the door to give me privacy.
The fabric is actually very comfortable and I can tell that it's real cotton, unlike the fake and cheap fabric used for clothes now a days.
My clothes are laying bundled up in a corner before I take a deep breath and I walk out of the door.
I bet I look like complete shit. The dress is a little baggy on me and I don't want to even know what shoes I'm going to have to wear.
"Not bad." Rein comments as she appears in front of me, observing the dress.
"A little big at the waist area, but not bad."
"Ya." I retort, trying to hold back my opinion.
"All you need are the shoes, you put your hair up in a high pony tail, and you're good."
"Peachy."
...
I am now fully dressed, and the whole time I felt as if I were one of those barbie dolls and that Rein was the small spoiled child, dressing me up in ridiculous outfits, and doing my hair forcefully, almost pulling all the hair out from my scalp.
"Can you tell me how to do this now?" I ask as my patience is wearing as thin thread.
She grabs the bottle and picture and walks up to me.
"A little impatient aren't we?" she jokes.
I roll my eyes, causing her to chuckle before she continues.
"There are some rules you need to know before you do this."
"Rules?"
She nods her head.
"Rule number one. You must not tell anyone there where you come from at all, things from present time, etc. A friend of my mother's will be waiting for you and will assist you in your goal."
"And she knows who I am and well about all of this?" I ask as I point to the bottle.
"Yes. While you we're dressing, I went to go tell her. Her name is Nancy and she is for that generation. A person assists us for each generation. Nancy is for that one and I for this one."
"For this one? Have yo-"
"Yes I've met my great great granddaughter. This business has been in my family ever since the beginning and will continue for years and decades to come."
"Wow."
"Yes. Now rule two. You must not get attached to anyone. It would actually be better if you didn't interact with anyone at all besides your grandfather. You could change that person's whole life by just saying a sentence, so you must be careful with what you say."
Not interacting with anyone and being careful with what I say...I can do that.
"Rule three. If you see someone in life or death danger, don't do anything. If they we're meant to die then they must perish. If you do anything at all that could change that outcome, you will pass away instead. We don't know why that happens, but I'm guessing God watches us and well he follows the life for a life rule, so we shall as well."
I nod my head.
"This is enough to travel at least twenty times. You have to sprinkle this liquid over the picture and say the words Tollite me. It's Latin for 'Take me back'."
Tollite me. Tollite me. I must remember that.
"When you do all of that, you must close your eyes as tight as you can and you must hold in as much oxygen as your body can hold. You see, you will be taken to the exact moment and time of the photograph. You're going through space and time at a rapid pace. If your eyes are open, all the light will blind you and you must hold in your breath, because there will be no oxygen for a few seconds. Going in that picture is as if you went back in time. You are able to walk around the whole earth if you would like and you would be able to see how everything was back in that time. You stay in there for two days. Nothing more, nothing less. Nancy will explain to you the rest once you're there. Are you still sure you want to do this? I still have your money and I ca-"
"I want to do this. I need to do this."
Her smile shows me how much hope she has in me and even though we have just met, I can tell that she is already concerned for my safety, which is something I haven't witnessed since my grandfather was alive.
Her pale white hands give me the liquid and the picture. I quickly pour a sprinkle of the liquid over it and I close my eyes before taking the deepest breath I probably have ever taken.
Please work. Please please please work.
"Lolita."
I open my eyes and I release my breath, looking at Rein.
"Please remember. Don't get attached to anyone. I'm warning you."
I chuckle a little.
"I promise."
I mean who could I possibly get attached to anyway?

Notes

Hope you guys like it so far :)