Mortem . Sirius Black

chapter twenty-two

James's tone was strong and unwavering, he was certain that once Nephera got on that train, she would instantly be fine. Sirius knew that the curly-haired boy knew better than that, but he supposed that James simply wanted to console himself. In a way, Sirius hoped that he too could convince himself that everything would be fine, at least for the moment. 

The atmosphere at Winchester manor that morning was drastically different than that of the Potter home. 

Nephera's father had kept true to his promise from that first day of break, and he had returned two days after with the potion to get rid of the curse from the dagger. However, after he had done that, he simply stabbed her again, and so the cycle continued. 

Heal and stab. 

Wait two days. 

Repeat. 

The curse from the knife was particularly nasty. Images of her entire life flashed before her eyes, although the faces and colors were distorted. 

Her father hitting her when she said she didn't believe in blood supremacy when she was nine. 

Her sorting. 

Meeting Ellie and Tony. 

Fighting with the marauders. 

The night of the full moon in October. 

Her talk with Sirius in the forbidden forest. 

The meeting with Voldemort. 

They played like a loop in her head, over and over and over. The exhaustion this brought, combined with the draining feeling of the manacles which were silencing her magic, and the fact that she had been barely given any food or water over the past two weeks, had left her nothing more than a shell of herslef. 

Her throat was hoarse from screaming, her head was pounding, and she was sure that if she tried to eat anything, she would throw it back up, no matter how hungry she was. 

Had it not been for Blinkey, the house-elf, she was certain that she wouldn't have showered. The small elf had always treated her well, but there was little she could do since her father had specifically ordered it not to give her any food or water, apart from the small quantities she got every two days. But, Blinkey had found a loophole, and so she did everything she could to help the girl into the bath so that Nephera could wash the dried blood off of herself each day. 

That day, like all others, her father came into the room and handed her the potion, which Nephera drank eagerly, despite the foul taste. 

"Get ready, we'll be leaving for the station in thirty minutes," 

Nephera pulled herself up and wobbled slightly, her knees significantly weaker than how she remembered them. Reaching her closet, she struggled to bring her arms up and put on her clothes, the bracelets, although small, were weighing her down and left her feeling weak and empty, the familiar buzz of magic in her veins no longer there. 

Looking in the mirror, she fought a cringe as she took in her reflection. She didn't look like herself, she looked like a corpse, a shadow of the person she used to be. 

She carried her trunk downstairs, almost toppling over at the weight of it, and approached her father "Show me your wrists," he said, and Nephera complied, watching as her father took out a key and unlocked the manacles. 

She immediately felt the rush of magic flooding her senses. It should make her happy, it should give her the power that she needed to heal herself and fix her appearance, but it only overwhelmed her. It was too much for her body to handle, and she felt her eyes close and her legs give out.