Gaeven

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You know pretending to have no idea about magic and anything that has to do with it is a task I begin to hate. This is already my hundred or so life and I still hate it that every time I get my memories back, I am some freak that lives somewhere without magic and is supposed to not know about magic.

The second thing I hate about this business is that I am always some little abused child. Can you even imagine how it is to wake up and to not only have survived the current abuse but already over a few centuries of them? And don’t get me started on the tortures or I will make you wish you were never born.

I think that after all those quests, roughly thirty thousand give or take a few hundred, that the gods would give me a family that was magical and not prone to abuse me for my gifts. Well, abuse me or trying to kill me if I look at that curse scar on my forehead.

That is one thing I love as a mate of a gaeven or being a gaeven himself. You cannot kill them. No matter what you try, drown, starving, strangle, burning, staking, ripping, cutting so that you would bleed to death or even nailing you on a cross, all of this cannot kill you.

You might be surprised that your child has suddenly gills or that it would be immune to fire, or be that strong that no knife or other powers can harm it, but that is the only thing that will change for the child.

It seems that I myself had exactly more than near death experience. In fact I think that this body had too much. No, I know that this body had one too much for my liking since I get all the memories from my past lifes and even things that should not have been clear, like my birth for example because it is really an tiring and disgusting experience, are crystal clear to me.

Why, I hear you asking? Because if for example my mother was an prisoner and those that take me from her just a few seconds after my birth, how the hell should I know how my mother looked like and if she is the one I have been sent to save, or manipulate or something?

I am always born to those that have a key role while my wonderful mate gets always a relative normal childhood with parents that are if anything side characters. Sometimes I hate that he doesn’t appreciate the fact that he has such a childhood.

In fact I know that my lover wished that he could have once a childhood like mine, but I would wish no one the horrors that I had to survive. But I think that if you want to understand from which horrors I tell I must tell you my current childhood as example.

My life story is too long and has too many facets for a human mind. So I will just tell you about my current one and what exactly I meant with those childhoods of mine.

In this life I have been born on the darkest night as the seventh month died. Even the moon, and I am sure that was planned from Selene, was absent from me when I was born to magical parents. That had been a first but the absent moon did as always, foreshadow the coming events of my life.

I lived with my talented mother and immature father in a house that was not far from a muggle village and had a rather normal year. One year and a half until, on the day of the lost souls and celebration of the afterlife, a scary bald man came and decided to off my parents.

Why he did that I ask myself all the time but until now I still have found no sense in his insanity. Hell I didn’t even know his name as I had been just learning to understand my parents, so I wouldn’t even know if they had mentioned him before.

The only thing I know is that he tried to kill me and tragically died as the bastard he was. I am sorry but if someone tries to kill a baby I do not feel sorry if they die in the crossfire. Magic loves me and would never hurt me, so you can try what you want but no everlasting harm will come to me. If I think about the blessings from the gods that I have, then it astounds me that I could be damaged at all.

Well after I got the bastard into a ghost form and through the curse that bond between us with the scar, I was manhandled by a half giant. Mind you, he tried to be gentle but I was so squeezed that I thank my special condition that I lived.

After that I was laid on the doorstep with a letter and forgotten until, in the morning, a giant wale came to look if there was a newspaper. The night had been very cold and the steady flight of the owls above as well as the fireworks that had been silently shooting everywhere over the British isle, had been very distracting for me.

I still remember that I just wanted my mom and a good long cuddle but all I got for the next ten years were slaps, beatings, chores, hurt and attempts in my life. There was the drowning in the bathtub from my aunt, the falls from stairs and ladders from my cousin and the beatings with various things from my uncle.

The occasional burning on the herd plates or the broken bones that had to mend themselves were just entertainment for my relatives. The chores like baking, cooking, cleaning, gardening, moving the furniture, painting various things around the house and repairing I could do, were his responsibility and earning for the few things I got from his relatives.

The few things were hand-me-downs, a meal in a week (still very thankful I am in fact a blessed one) and water from the hose. Sometimes even a shower from the hose, when my uncle wanted Dudley, my cousin, to see how freaks had to be handled.

Naturally it was done only at night when none of the wonderful neighbours could see it but it was better than living in the constant filth.

Now I will you no longer bore with my life as the real one just started with my eleventh birthday and the letter from Hogwarts. My relatives were very funny when they tried to hinder the owls to do their duty and to run away from the letters.

The best thing was when Rubeus Hagrid came to retrieve me. In just a few minutes was my brain once again filled with knowledge, while I worried Hagrid with my one word answers.

After I understand who I was and how I had to act, like a confused little abused boy that had no knowledge of magic, I was easily fitting the role. One of my former lives as actress, I had been a woman in that life and I tell you it’s totally crap, taught me many things about how to play the perfect role.

Now I had just to find my soul mate as I could feel that he was already born and weary of this life without me. We both could not live long, not longer than hundred years, without each other.

We could go insane and so it was always arranged that our births would happen in a timeframe from twenty-five years. Now I think that this time I have to overcome more than a few years age difference with my mate to be with him.

I could only hope that the gods did not lay more complications in our way like the absolutely insane scenario that my parents and my soul mate were enemies or something. I really don’t like to remember our time in Great-Britain where we met the stupid writer. Another quest from the gods to show humans that everything could be overcome if only the will was there.

As we told our life story to him, on our journey from Italy to somewhere else where our parents could not find us, he wrote everything on some papers and promised us that our story would be known over the whole world.

The only problem was that this horrid writer decided to change the ending so that we were not living but dead, a tragically death through misuse of poisons and a knife. I can tell you that the part with the poisons really angered my mate.

He had always been a master with every potion or poison out there so that story was in fact an insult for him.

My attention was naturally caught as all information was again firmly implanted in my brain and Hagrid said: “Happy Birthday Harry Potter.”