Starlit Death ✹ harry potter (on hold)

𝖝𝖛. the death tournament

Seraphina perched herself on the edge of Ascella's bed, her fingers grabbing Ascella's hand. In all honesty, Seraphina couldn't say that if Regulus Black was alive, he'd be there too, as — even when he was alive — he was such an enigma to all those around, even the woman he loved.

"Ascella, I'd like to believe that Reg wouldn't have been there with them but I'm not sure. He was . . . rather private when it came to Death Eater matters. He didn't like to get me involved. 'It's for your own safety, Sera,' is what he'd say every time he went somewhere. But, the version of Regulus Black I knew would never be apart of that," Seraphina informed Ascella, her voice shaky and pearly tears forming in the crevices of her amber eyes.

"I wish I had gotten to meet him better," Ascella said dismally.

Pulling her daughter into a warm, tight hug, mumbling into Ascella's violet curls, "He would've adored you, my darling. You're everything he ever wanted in a daughter."

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Stepping onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, Ascella's eyes eagerly scanned the bustling crowds for her friends that she hadn't seen in a while.

"Be good this year, yeah?" said Seraphina. "Oh, and before I forget, I put a dress in your trunk."

Ascella's brows furrowed together, "Why?"

A knowing smile spread across Seraphina's lips, "You'll need it for this year. I doubt you'll wanting to come home for Christmas this year."

"Why?" repeated Ascella, perplexed.

"You'll find out!" said Seraphina, before wrapping her arms around Ascella's shoulders, pulling her in for a hug. "I love you, and be good this year!"

"I will!" called out Ascella as she left, grabbing her trunk and stepping onto the leaving train. Eyeing everyone in the compartments, she found one with Hermione, Ron and Harry in it, smiling lightly to herself, before sliding open the compartment door.

"Ascella!" grinned Ron, having missed his best friend since she'd left after the World Cup. "You alright?"

Settling herself beside the freckled-boy, Ascella replied, "I'm fine, Ronald, how're you?"

"Much better now that I've got my partner-in-crime back," he said, nudging her with his shoulder.

"Shh!" Hermione said suddenly, Ascella frowning at the cut off. She pointed to the compartment next to theirs, a drawling voice floating through.

". . . Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the Headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore — the man's such a Mudblood lover — and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff. But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defence rubbish we do . . ."

Ascella scowled as she got up, her good mood vanishing. She slid the door shut, sneering, "He can piss off to Durmstrang, do us all a favour. Knowing the students in that school, he'd get his head shoved down the toilets in his first week."