whispers (h.g x fem oc) book 2

Chapter #28

"Curious little thing, isn't it?" she remarks, her tone thoughtful as she observes the beetle's meandering path. "It's been here since we sat down."

Hermione, ever observant herself, follows Isadora's gaze to the beetle. "It does seem rather persistent," she agrees, leaning in for a closer look.

"Probably just looking for crumbs," Ron suggests with a shrug.

"Most likely", Molly says as they watch the beetle fly away.

---///---

The time has arrived. The third task is just thirty minutes away. As they approach the entrance to the Quidditch Pitch, now shrouded in mystery and anticipation, Harry feels a mixture of nerves and determination swirling inside him. Isadora and Mrs. Weasley, flanked him with comforting embraces, exuding warmth and support.

"Remember, Harry, we'll be cheering you on every step of the way," Mrs. Weasley says with a gentle smile, her eyes filled with maternal pride.

Isadora, her presence a blend of strength and wisdom, adds her own words of encouragement. "You've faced challenges before, Harry. Trust in your instincts and believe in yourself."

Grateful for their words, Harry nods, feeling a surge of determination coursing through him. "Thanks, Mrs. Weasley. Thanks, Isadora," he says earnestly, before turning to Ron and Hermione, who offer their own words of support.

"Good luck, mate," Ron says, clapping Harry on the back with a reassuring grin.

Hermione, her gaze filled with unwavering belief, adds, "You've got this, Harry. We'll be waiting for you in the stands."

Hermione's worry gnaws at her as she scans the crowd from their vantage point in the stands. She fidgets nervously, her eyes flitting back and forth in search of any sign of Alexia. Beside her, Ron senses her unease and offers what comfort he can muster.

"I'm sure she's on her way, Hermione," Ron says, his voice tinged with reassurance. "You know Lexi, she's probably just got caught up in something. She'll be here soon."

Hermione nods, though her anxiety remains palpable. She continues to whisper her concerns to Ron, unable to shake the feeling of unease gnawing at her. Nevertheless, Ron's attempts to calm her down bring a small measure of solace, and she resolves to save a seat for Alexia, hoping against hope that she'll arrive before the task begins.

Despite her worry for Alexia, Hermione's loyalty to Harry remains steadfast. As the third task begins and the crowd erupts into cheers, Hermione joins in with fervour, her voice ringing out in support of her best friend. Though her mind is preoccupied with thoughts of Alexia's whereabouts, she finds solace in rallying behind Harry, her cheers blending with those of the crowd as they echo throughout the stadium.

Ron's observation of Professor Moody catches Hermione's attention, and they quickly discuss the idea of approaching him to inquire about Alexia's whereabouts before the third task concludes. However, Molly intervenes, advising against it as she points out Moody's current engagement with the tournament representatives. Reluctantly, Hermione and Ron concede to her wisdom, realizing that it might not be the opportune moment to approach Moody with their concerns.

---///---

Alexia gradually regains consciousness, she finds herself enveloped in a haze of confusion, her senses dulled by a throbbing ache coursing through her body. Blinking away the disorientation, she takes in her surroundings with a mounting sense of unease. The eerie silence of the graveyard, punctuated only by the rustle of leaves and the occasional creak of branches, sends shivers down her spine.

Struggling to piece together the fragments of memory that elude her grasp, Alexia's mind races with unanswered questions. How did she end up here? What happened to her? With each passing moment, the weight of uncertainty presses down upon her, suffocating her thoughts.

Grim tombstones loom like silent sentinels, casting elongated shadows across the uneven ground. The air hangs heavy with the scent of damp earth and decay, a stark contrast to the crispness of the world she knows. Every detail of the scene feels surreal as if she's stumbled into a nightmare from which she cannot wake.

Summoning her courage, Alexia pushes herself upright, her muscles protesting against the effort. As she takes tentative steps forward, the ground beneath her feet feels unsteady, as though the earth itself is reluctant to support her presence in this desolate place.

As Alexia approaches the tombstone bearing the name "Isadora Morganach," her heart quickens its pace, a sense of foreboding settling over her like a heavy fog. With trembling fingers, she reaches out to trace the engraved letters, her mind reeling with a torrent of emotions and questions.

Before she can fully process the significance of her surroundings, a voice slices through the stillness, sending a chill racing down her spine. Instinctively, Alexia's hand darts to her pocket, only to find it empty, her wand nowhere to be found. Panic begins to claw at the edges of her consciousness as she whirls around to confront the source of the voice.

There, standing before her with a twisted grin on his face, is Wormtail, his eyes gleaming with malice as he clutches something tightly in his arms. Alexia's muscles tense as she braces herself for whatever twisted game he has in store for her.

"What do you want?" she demands, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and defiance.

As Wormtail draws closer, Alexia's instincts scream at her to flee, but she finds herself rooted to the spot, her muscles refusing to obey her commands. Fear courses through her veins like ice water as she stares into the twisted visage of what she only assumed was Voldemort, his soul trapped in a grotesque and maimed form held aloft by Wormtail's trembling hands.

Voldemort's voice echoes around her, cold and commanding, as he issues his orders to his loyal servant. Alexia's heart pounds in her chest, the weight of his gaze bearing down on her like a suffocating shroud.

"Wormtail," Voldemort hisses, his voice dripping with malice, "weak the girl. Make her suffer."

Wormtail's eyes gleam with a twisted fervour as he obeys his master's command, his wand raised high as he utters the incantation for the Cruciatus Curse. A searing pain lances through Alexia's body like a thousand fiery needles, every nerve ablaze with agony as she crumples to the ground, her screams echoing through the desolate graveyard.

The pain is unlike anything she has ever experienced, a relentless attack that threatens to consume her very being. She claws at the ground beneath her, desperate to escape the torment that courses through her veins like lava.

Through the haze of agony, Alexia's thoughts whirl in a chaotic frenzy, her mind struggling to comprehend the horrors unfolding before her. She grits her teeth against the pain, her vision swimming as darkness threatens to engulf her.

But even in the depths of her suffering, a fierce determination burns within her, a defiant spark that refuses to be extinguished. With every ounce of strength she can muster, she fights against the waves of torment, her will unbroken even as her body writhes in agony.