𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑

the one with 12, grimmauld place

"Sometimes I want to be a hero,
and save the world from darkness.
But sometimes I just want to sit back,
and watch the world burn."

•

THERE WAS SCREAMING. And an tremendous pain. There was Tom and he was laughing. Of course he was laughing. He enjoyed it didn't he?

I saw the veil again, the translucent curtain leading to a world we didn't know about. And the smoke. And then, Tom started to morph. It was Tom Riddle. Handsome features, black hair and brown eyes. He morphed to this snake-like creature I came face to face in the graveyard. He grinned liplessly at me.

And the pain increased.

And I sat upright in bed in cold sweat. That dream again.

Trauma was a real thing. My magic had been stronger and more reactive since that day. It took a long time for me to be completely healed from all the physical injuries the Cruciatus left on me. Madam Pomfrey had been successful in providing the immediate first aid to me, but that still left me with tremors in my fingers and night terrors.

St Mungo's Healers had to be called in to treat me two days after that. They performed complicated diagnostic spells on me and confirmed that if I had been under the curse for longer than that, I'd have had some sort of brain damage like the Longbottoms. They issued me potions and made Snape in charge of administering them to me. The Healers assigned Severus Snape as my default guardian; because he was a renounced Potions Master. Sirius wasn't happy about it. The terrors never left me. My fingers still spasmed every once in a while leaving me at the disposal to misdirect my spells. It was horrible, really. But it was the beginning of many, I knew.

While Voldemort didn't recognize me in the graveyard, it was only a matter of time before the wind gives him the news that I was Skylar Firegold, the first person he wanted to kill on the night of October 31st.

I sighed and got out of the bed. My hair was in tangles again. It was nearly dawn. Maybe four thirty in the morning and the summer sun was coming up slowly in hues of pink and purple. I grabbed a comb and started untangling my hair as I looked out of the window. I could see my reflection and the road beyond. And I could see a pair of scissors on the wooden table in my room.

I bunched up my knotted hair and held it low. I grabbed the scissors and started cutting it. A change was needed.

I started chopping my hair from where ever I wanted to, which probably wasn't a good idea, but I did it anyway.

Half an hour later, I walked out of the bathroom, bathed and dressed, with short choppy hair which reached a little below my ears. It wasn't perfect, but it was definitely different.

And I feel lighter.

And I anticipate the reactions of the people once they see.

I walked out of the room towards the stairs. This house was totally concealed, so even if I go to the terrace no one will be able to see me.

The Order is going to send the Advance Guard today to get Harry. It had been a few months since the end of the Triwizard Tournament. I knew why it was necessary to make Harry stay away, but I didn't approve of the idea. I had fought every day with Snape and Dumbledore to get him here because he wasn't doing good back at Privet Drive. But everyone insisted that he had to be kept away because Dumbledore said so. I didn't understand the point. The magic that Lily Evans put on Harry to protect him, the love bullshit that Dumbledore is so keen on believing, didn't resonate with me at all. It was Snape and his accidental (or intentionally sneaky, we'll never know) Unbreakable Vow with Voldemort that saved Harry. But because Snape wanted this information to be hidden, Harry only knew of his mother's magic, and he was left in Privet Drive to suffer.