Astrid Orla Clearwater, Wizarding royalty and well known all over the world. You grew up listening to stories about the potters as they were your parents best friends. What happens when you find your best friend from when you were newborns, separate...
★ March 12th 1995 Song: Saint Bernard by Licoln The way I loved you Taylor swift (Taylor's version) 📍Hogwarts
Ups! Tento obrázek porušuje naše pokyny k obsahu. Před publikováním ho, prosím, buď odstraň, nebo nahraď jiným.
Ups! Tento obrázek porušuje naše pokyny k obsahu. Před publikováním ho, prosím, buď odstraň, nebo nahraď jiným.
The story had been revised a countless of times in Astrid's little mind from childhood to now, she had grown up reminding herself of that very night that left the Clearwaters scarred and afraid.
Every night when she thought of it—of him—she would screw her eyes tightly shut and beg the gods for mercy upon her childish soul that taunted her with memory as good as that of an adolescent's. She wished to forget, but she reminded herself daily.
Halloween night of the year 81'
While the Potters were being killed and the Longbottoms tortured, the Clearwaters were away from home and what a stupid decision on their behalf. For they left two little children in the dark mansion that once was the ancestral home of Clearwater, two children to be killed in their absence
But they were not, saved by a small child of two who somehow killed Voldemort and forced his loyal members into a hiding that would keep them from the world for many, many years, whilst the less fortunate toiled and suffered in the large and tall walls of Azkaban.
Dumbledore had convinced the couple that their children were safe from harms way, but another dark night fell on them all and it was the younger Clearwater girl left alone with her child brother, lacking the brother she had the first time chaos crawled into their homes and threatened to kill them.
The night was cold and wet, or was it snowing and frosted over? She should know, but she didn't quite, there was a tingling cold drifting within the air that tickled Astrid's arms and back into forming a million tiny bumps, dark hair standing straight on her arms
She had been quite young than, the night before her big break, her recital—she was to be Clara in the wizard rendition of the nutcracker, totally ripped off of the muggle story, but so much better thanks to magic
