Parallel Universes • s.black

Summer of '76

-Stella Hart-

Two and a half days into the summer of '76 my mother snapped my owls neck. Well, she didn't snap it's neck. She's far too much of a lady to do anything like that but she would have no qualms about ordering someone else to do it.

All I know is that I woke up sleepy and wistful, dreaming of Sirius' hands in my hair, to my mother barging in and placing two things on the end of my bed.

One was a small burlap sack with, on closer inspection, my little speckled owl inside. The other was my fifth year report card and I didn't have to see it to know what it said.

"No more letters." She said simply before calmly leaving the room.

I had to hear about Sirius' being removed from his family tree through some trashy gossip wizarding magazine. I had to hear about Mathieu Clement's funeral when it was broadcasted on the front of the Daily Prophet. I had to hear about Lily and Remus becoming prefects through Bellatrix and Narcissa who came every Sunday for a spot of tea and some heavy bitching. I tried to sneak away every opportunity that I could but my mother had started locking the back door.

The only letter I recieved was sent up to me on a silver platter, already opened, along with a dead rose. It was from Hogwarts and it regretted to inform me that I was not chosen to be a prefect for Slytherin House.

My mother didn't speak to me for the rest of the summer, keeping me locked up in my bedroom like god damn Rapunzel and feeding me squirels of information through house elves.

That was, until, the night before I was to start my sixth year at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, she decided to break her vow of silence.

I was sitting at my dressing table in my pyjamas my hair soft around my face, only a small candle lit to illuminate the darkness. To anyone else, a girl staring at herself in the mirror each night would be considered vain, self centred, but I wasn't staring or admiring, I was looking and watching.

Now I know all of those words may be synonyms to you but to me they're completely different. I wasn't looking for beauty, I was looking for change.

"We're all the weakest link."

I had said that to Peter with such conviction, but I had never even considered that it could be me. Not until I got home under my dark silky sheets and my mind began to wander into dangerous places. Places that would make even the most self-assured person, question themselves.

So now, each night before I got to sleep, I look at myself in the mirror and check to see if I've changed.

Most nights, I see nothing different, just strain my eyes looking until the candle burns out but, every so often, I have caught moments, glimpses, that I'm not sure are real or just figments of my imagination.

My lips curling into a sinister smile, but just as I reach up to touch them, it's gone.

Shadows slipping into my hair, weaving through my mind, then I lean closer and it's just just a play on light.

Something dark and twisted in my eyes, hardening, making them cold, but when I squeeze them shut and then open them, I realise it was just the reflection of the candle light.

Suddenly my mother appears behind my chair, startling me. She smiles but it's cold, calculating and it doesn't meet her eyes. She leans forward and picks up my silver hairbrush giving me a strong whiff of rose perfume.

Our eyes met in the reflection of the mirror, her expression was guarded, always keeping me guessing. She, very slowly, began to brush my tossled hair.

"Are you ready for tomorrow?" She asked me.

"Yes." I said carefully, my voice quiet.

"Speak up, Estelle!" She barked, dragging the brush harshly through my hair, causing me to wince. "How do you expect anyone to listen to you if you whisper?"

She chucked the brush down and it clattered noisily.

"Sorry."

She scoffed.

"Apologies are for people who believe they are in the wrong. Are you in the wrong?" She began to gather my hair at the nape of my neck, roughly.

"I thought you said-" I began but she cut me off, "are you in the wrong?" She hissed.

I breathed in through my nose.

"No."

"Good." She stated.

I let the breath out through my lips. She twisted my hair around her hand, getting ready to tie into the neat bun she wears each day.

"And Estelle?"

She yanked my head back back my hair, sharply. I let out a yelp and one of my hands flew up on instinct to grab her wrist. She smiled nastilly.

"Do not disappoint me this year."

She released me.

As she marched out of the room, I clutched at me stinging scalp.

I was trying so hard not to cry but I needn't bother as the candle was burning out.

So when the darkness finally swallowed me whole, I allowed myself to cry, because there was no one there to see it.

Or so I thought.

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AUTHORS NOTE

Hi friends and welcome to the prologue of 'The Nightmare'!!!

Thoughts? Feelings? Predictions? Leave me a comment :) and don't forget to vote!!

*exciting loves*

-J xx