Merlin's Academy for Excellence
IMPORTANT NOTICE: Due to inactivity, Merlin's Academy is no longer a Harry Potter RP site. It is being used for CASUAL, CLEAN RP of ANY TOPIC among friends. If you wish to join, however, please feel free; we would love to make new friends. Thanks to everyone who made MAE what it was before, and we wish you all lots of love and a great life up ahead. <3

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     Where We Belong

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    Lilliana Noel

    Posts : 46

    PostSubject: Where We Belong   Tue Jan 06, 2015 5:48 pm

    If anyone were to ask Lilliana about her family, she would talk about the Noels – Miranda and Timothy, her parents, and her younger twin brothers, Scott and Stephen. Not one mention of any ‘biological’ factors would ever pass her lips, for she fully considered herself to be a Noel; and the Noels considered her one of theirs. But sometimes, when she lay down in her bed at night, and she was staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars her parents had placed there for her, she couldn’t help but wonder about her origins. Who was the woman who gave birth to her? Who was the man whom she had the DNA of? Did she have any blood siblings somewhere out there in the world, or had she been an only child? If she did, did they know about her or was she a secret, something not talked about?


    Across oceans, somewhere in the middle of the United Kingdom, an empty house sits, long since abandoned. Cob webs cover the doorframes and the broken and cracked windows; the paint outside is peeling, tiles are coming off, and the grass that was once kept neatly pruned now tower over the ground. Not even a stray dog dares to venture near the place, and the locals swear up and down that it is haunted; nobody who has ever tried to prove the myth wrong comes back from the house the same. The rumours vary, but the gist of it remains the same – two missing daughters, and three dead people.

    The Atkinsons were a prominent Pureblood family back in the day. Rich and powerful, they served Lord Voldemort with all the passion and ferocity that was expected of anyone. A few years after his first defeat, the night he tried to kill Harry Potter, they disappeared, rumoured to have killed themselves in an act of total allegiance to their Dark Lord. However, when he rose again to power, an Atkinson and his fiancé, both students, decided to join his ranks; when he was defeated for good during the Battle of Hogwarts, they ran. Still avid supporters of the movement, they got married and had a baby they named Cecelia.

    Cecelia was born in the middle of January, during a severe storm. At once handed to a nanny, Cecil was cared for by the older witch, while Samantha and Derrik spent their days trying for a male – they needed an heir to the Atkinsons family. When their daughter turned 1, she was already speaking in proper sentences. Proud that their daughter was apparently ‘gifted’, her parents took her around, showing her off to people in their circles, despite the protests of the nanny. They very quickly found out why.

    ”Mommy,” the one year old calls from her position in the pram. They were at an evening tea party of a Pureblood who recently received a promotion in the Ministry.

    “Yes, my dear?” the older witch responds, even though she has never really had a role in bringing up the baby girl. She flashes a smile at the nearby women, who are oohing and aahing at Cecelia.

    There is a slight pause as the young girl tries to find the right words. “Why was Debbie doing that?”

    Samantha looks confused, glancing at the other witches, who are equally confused; no names had been exchanged in front of the baby, and yet she knew there was a Debbie there. “Doing what?”

    Cecil waves her arm around as if motioning towards something. “That thing! With.. with Bill.”

    A gasp from the-witch-named-Debbie. “This isn’t funny, Samantha,” she hisses, snatching up her handbag and marching away in a very undignified manner.


    A day after the incident with Debbie, Samantha and Derrik are at home, watching Cecelia play in her cot when she suddenly stops and turns to look at them, a faraway look in her eyes. “You’re Mr. Smith.”

    Samantha freezes, spins around to stare at Derrik, who just shrugs. “H-how?” she whispers, more to herself, but her daughter hears.

    “I saw it,” comes the simple answer.


    Cecelia has not seen either of her parents in 4 months. She is almost two. Very recently she has learnt how to stand up without falling, although she is still relatively unsure. Neither Samantha nor Derrik were there for her first successful attempt to crawl across the room.

    “Nana,” she says suddenly, crawling over to the witch, who smiles and holds out her hands.


    In a tiny voice, the girl asks, “Why?”

    There is a long pause. “When you’re older, my dear, you’ll understand.”

    But before there could be a reply from the girl, the door to the nursery opens. Derrik comes in, gives a cold look towards the nanny. “Your services are no longer needed,” he says calmly, grabbing his daughter by the arm.


    Nobody but the four people in the room knew what happened that day, and the only one who is still alive doesn’t remember. But if Lilliana could somehow reach into her own mind and pull out the memories, she would have seen her nanny slip out her wand and send a curse towards Derrik, having realized what he planned on doing. She would have then witnessed Samantha intercept the curse, sending one back. In a blink of an eye, a duel was taking place, but her nanny was outnumbered, two to one, and it was with a flash of green that the older witch lost.

    There was a thud, and it was all over. Derrik didn’t hesitate in his movements, going over to his daughter and bending down to face her. Eyes clear and bright, even though she had just witnessed a murder, she looked back at him. “Another secret to hide,” she said softly, voice way too calm for someone her age. The entire time, she maintained eye contact, even when she felt the wand against her forehead and heard the murmured spell. When her eyes went blank, they were still staring at Derrik, unblinking, until one more spell later, the girl passed out completely, the events of the past two years gone from her mind forever.

    The next time her eyes opened, she was alone, on a busy street somewhere in America, with no recollection of anything that happened before. Terrified, she crawled over to a nearby drain and found shelter there. For 4 days she sat there, too afraid to sleep or do anything other than watch people passing by, until that faithful morning when Miranda and Timothy walked by.

    The story of her life since then has been happy and cheerful, but for the Alkinsons, it was the start of a very, very bad time indeed. What Lily – or Cecelia, as they knew her – didn’t know was that they were not indeed Alkinsons; they were not even Purebloods. Derrik’s father had been a Smith, a Muggle-born, who craved power. When the Alkinsons killed themselves at the ‘death’ of the Dark Lord on that night in Godric’s Hollow, that family line truly did end, and there were no survivors. But Mr. Smith seized that opportunity, and raised his son under that name. In time, Voldemort rose again, and it was the perfect chance for Derrik and his lover, also a half-blood.

    Choosing power over everything else, the two sacrificed their own daughter, upon realizing that she was a seer, fearful that she would come to realize the truth about them and expose their dirty little secret. But the Smiths would soon learn a very important lesson in karma. Their next daughter, due to years of abuse on the part of Derrik, would eventually come to murder them in cold blood, destroying the line of false Atkinsons before it could even begin. Nobody would have attended their funeral, nobody would leave flowers on their graves, and nobody would ever suspect that the Atkinsons were not who they said they were. It seemed that, in the end, their secret would remain just that, but at a cost no one could have ever imagined.


    Back in her room, Lilliana’s mind slowly began to wind down, and the questions faded as sleep took over. A smile on her face, she was soon deep in dream land. She was truly home, where she belonged – with family.

    Halfway around the world, beneath three unmarked graves, Samantha, Derrik, and their son also sleep, but there are worms in their beds, and no peace for them. They, too, are exactly where they belong.
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