Chapter Twenty-Four

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𝕾𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟓

"AND HE JUST RAN AWAY?" Diana questions, as the pale, early-morning sunlight flits into their dormitory through the open curtains; Maya rubs her eyes as she wraps the Gryffindor tie around her shirt collar, knotting it, "Covered in foam?"

"He looked terrified of me, " Maya mutters, agonizing guilt rushing through her as she magically untangles her hair, cheeks flushing in embarrassment at the horrifying memories of the previous night.

"To be fair, he kind of deserved it, " states Diana, scoffing at Maya's indignant look, "What? Just because he's my brother doesn't mean I'm going to make excuses for his asshole decisions. And besides, you're still new to the whole warlock thing. You couldn't prevent what happened, "

"Still . . . . " Maya mutters, walking over to the mirror. She wordlessly levitates a stick of navy-blue liner, and with a flick of her wrist, her azure hues are adorned with the substance. It makes her eyes look darker, entrancing in a way that sort of roots her to the ground, reminding her of who she is. Maya bites back a grin, turning back to Diana.

"How do I look?" she gestures to the newfound makeup.

Diana smirks.

"Beautiful as ever"

'What's the matter?' asks Hermione to Harry, five minutes later, as Maya and Diana join her, catching up with him and Ron halfway across the common room as they all head towards breakfast.

'You look absolutely — Oh for heavens sake.' She stares at the common-room noticeboard, where a large new sign has been put up.

GALLONS OF GALLEONS!

Pocket money failing to keep pace with your outgoings?
Like to earn a little extra gold?
Contact Fred and George Weasley, Gryffindor common room,
for simple, part-time, virtually painless jobs.
(We regret that all work is undertaken at applicant's own risk.)

"What are they, running a pyramid scheme?" Maya chuckles, wondering what exactly the twins are up to this time.

'They are the limit,' says Hermione grimly, taking down the sign, which Fred and George have pinned up over a poster giving the date of the first Hogsmeade weekend, which is to be in October. 'We'll have to talk to them, Ron.'

Ron looks positively alarmed. 'Why?'

'Because we're prefects!' says Hermione, as they climb out through the portrait hole. 'It's up to us to stop this kind of thing!'

Ron says nothing; Maya can tell from his glum expression that the prospect of stopping Fred and George doing exactly what they like is not one he finds inviting.

'Anyway, what's up, Harry?' Hermione continues, as they walk down a flight of stairs lined with portraits of old witches and wizards, all of whom ignore them, being engrossed in their own conversation. 'You look really angry about something.'

'Seamus reckons Harry's lying about You-Know-Who,' says Ron succinctly, when Harry does not respond. Maya suddenly feels a violent twisting sensation in her stomach at the memory, almost lurching over from how intense it is. Diana is the only one who notices, reaching out and squeezing her hand.

. . . . . "Because Belial wants his daughter back, " replies Voldemort, cooly examining the veins that run over his knuckles, "And he's promised to pay me a hefty sum of wraith demons if I deliver you in one piece" . . . . .

Ice pools in her chest, spiking in the deep regions of her belly.

She doesn't belong here.

in the end ~ d. malfoyWhere stories live. Discover now