I had been diagnosed with PTSD, Social Anxiety Disorder and Panic Disorder. It wasn't really a surprise, but hearing it actually come out of someone's mouth caused something to stir up inside me. Deep down I'd always known that something was wrong with me but actually putting a label on it just stresses me out.

I landed myself back in hospital after I had a panic attack in my room when George and Harry were fighting. George brought me here and once I woke up I was bombarded with the conditions of my health and labels I did not want. Doctors recommended me therapists and psychologists left and right but I paid not attention to them. It was one thing for my memories to come back once they were triggered, but it's another thing to purposefully go through them with someone else.

George was always by my side. I expected for him to ask me questions but he said nothing, just asking if I was feeling alright and whether I needed anything. I wondered if Harry Potter had already gone to the Ministry and blabbed about my secret all over the place. But I gues he hadn't because if he had, the place would've been swarmed by paparazzi and I would be receiving stares from the people around me.

However on the next day I was met by the sight of visitors. I had just awoken an hour before and was ready to be discharged. The nurses had gone through everything and took George outside to talk. What did they talk about? I don't know. But a few seconds later the door reopened and Harry Potter walked in with the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt right behind him. My brain blanked in this situation. I didn't know what to do because here I was in front of the Minister for Magic as his freaking daughter.

"How are you feeling?" Shacklebolt asked.

I opened my mouth to answer but nothing came out.

"It's alright," He said, "I understand that you must be feeling a bit anxious right now."

Hesitating, I nodded slowly still suspicious as to why he was here. Was he going to take me away and lock me up?

"I know who you are and I know what you're thinking." He paused for a few seconds before continuing. "I am not here to hurt you or take you away. Your father is the most hated person in the Wizarding World, but that does not define who you are. And judging from what I've been told I have no right to lock you up or punish you in any way. I just want to talk. Is that reasonable?"

I decided to trust him. He seemed trustworthy and judging from the disappointed look in Potter's face he certainly wasn't happy about me being free.

"I just want you to answer some questions for me. They'll be straight-forward and easy to answer you don't need to go into too much detail alright?" Shacklebolt asked.

I nodded, preparing myself for the questioning.

"Who are your parents?"

Fuck. I have to say their names. "Um... Be- Ms Lestrange and..." I hesitated. I couldn't say his name. Not out loud. I could already hear him creeping back into my mind. His cold lifeless eyes glaring into mine.

"Hey, hey its alright." Shacklebolt brought me back from my thoughts. "Tell me this. Is Tom Riddle Jnr your father."

"Y-Yes" I whispered.

"Ok. Where were you born."

"The Malfoy's. Their manor." No. I wasn't supposed to reveal the location. I automatically moved backwards and curled up into a ball, the hospital room fading away.

'You aren't ever to tell anyone where you are, understand? DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!!!"

"Please. I'm sorry! It was an accident!"

'You useless, worthless child! You ruin everything!!"

"Elena! Elena!! Listen to me. You're safe. Nothing's going to hurt you! I'm here. I promise."

I vaguely felt myself return to the real world and found that arms were wrapped around me. I didn't know whose it was and I didn't care. I clung to them wishing that the memories would go away and disappear forever. Why did they still have to haunt me when he was gone?

"It's alright. You're protected."

Whoever's arms I was in, I was thankful for them. I felt safe and it was like the warmth of them chased away all the reminders of him. I just held onto them and cried.