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Hogwarts, 1937 a.D.

A tall, blonde, Slytherin student made a turn on one of the 7th floor halls. He was running fast, holding a chess board and a bag with chess pieces. He kept looking over his shoulder, but no one was actually after him.

He took another look over his shoulder. Hi eyes widened in fear and he quickened his pace.

“Where is that room!” he mumbled to himself, making another turn. He finally came to a halt, and turned to look at one of the corridor’s walls. “Right. One, two, three,” he walked back and forth, alongside the wall, three times.

A very old wooden door appeared on the wall, as if it had always been there. He opened it and got inside. The room behind that door seemed to be endless and full of old things, magical and normal. They were all covered with a thick layer of dust.

He walked through the corridors of objects and books, searching for the place where he had been the last time he entered this room. He remembered where he had found the chess set. It was near a tiara, which somehow seemed to shine very brightly, although there was absolutely no source of light on that room.

He saw the shine and followed it. Nothing had been moved since the last time he was there and he was glad that was so. There was a disturbance in the dust, with the shape of the chess set, on a pedestal. The boy put the set exactly the way he had found it and took a step back. For a few moments nothing happened, until the dust that was around the pedestal covered the chess set.

The boy lost his balance by the sight, knocking some books off a bookcase behind him. The sounds of the books lading on the floor echoed through the room and the boy gasped in terror. He quickly picked up the books and put them back in the bookcase. He looked at them with curiosity, some of them looked ancient. He took one off the shelf at random and looked at its black leather cover.

The Slytherin crest was drawn in silver, with the words S.S. Memoirs written under it. It looked like one of the oldest books on that bookcase and it was certainly the oldest book he had ever held. The boy opened it and skimmed the first page. It was handwritten and although the book looked very old, the ink on the pages looked fresh.

The boy decided to take the book, to ease his curiosity. He knew better than to do that, but after what had happened with the last thing he had took from that room, he figured nothing could be worse than that.

After dinner, the boy went to the Slytherin common room and waited until every student had gone to bed. He took out the book, sat next to the fireplace and started reading it.

Kingdom of Britannia, 1050 a.D.

My time has finally come. I can’t say that it’s too soon and that there is much to live for yet. My life was far from uneventful. In my deathbed I write this, for all my memories came flooding back and they are far too precious to be forgotten.

My journey began on a little village just north of Norwich, Norfolk, 130 years ago. I was the middle son of 5 children. My mother, Genevieve, was very young when she had me, but after the labour and work 5 children ensued, she appeared twice fold her age. My father never changed for as long as I can remember, he always looked the same.

We were one of three wizarding families in that village. But after what came to be known as The Oblivion proclamation, by the Muggle Pope, all of that changed.

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