A Broken Slytherin : Triwizard Toil (Book 4)

The Summer of 1994

Light streamed in through the cracks in the shoddily made wooden ceiling, ribbons of the morning sun creeping into the dark room. The room was simple. No bigger than a broom closet. A small dresser crammed into it with just enough space for one's belongings to fit into. A brown leather-bound notebook was sat on top of it, bursting with notes and other pieces of parchment added in, making it almost impossible to close.

Alongside it, was an ebony wand, gathering dust after days of being unused. It gave a slight twitch every now and again as if begging to wielded. There was a large suitcase, that had been opened and rifled through many times but never unpacked. A bed, low to the floor, with lumpy pillows and a hand, knitted blanket laid on top of it was pushed off into the corner.

A girl lay under the covers of the bed, asleep. Her hair was messy, going days without being brushed, and her eyes carried large dark bags beneath them. As the sun continued to rise, the light shone on her face. Her eyes reacted to the light and they slowly opened, revealing tired and sad eyes. She pulled the quilt further over her eyes to block out the day but the sun was persistent in waking her up.

"Damn sun," she muttered, "Always rising and ruining my sleep."

She felt something soft and small move up against her legs. She sat up and lifted the covers to look down at her bed buddy, Nimbus. He crawled out and sat next to her, giving a great yawn and stretching out his body. The girl laughed slightly and pulled her pet closer, snuggling into him. Being a kneazel, a magical cat-creature, Nimbus was well intuned with the emotions of people around him. So it was no surprise when he stayed with her to try and comfort her as best he could.

The two sat there for some time, letting the light beam in eventually lighting up most of the room as best it could. There were no windows, just a hole in the roof which allowed the light to enter. It may seem like a horrible place to be, but to her, the room was all she had.

Then there came a knock at the door.

"y/n? Are you awake?" A soft voice called.

"Yes, Mrs Weasley, I'm up." y/n replied, her voice croaky.

There was a pause, "May I come in?"

"Yeah, of course," y/n's voice became quiet.

Mrs Weasley pushed open the door, she held a pile of folded clothes in one hand and a steaming cup of tea in the other. She approached y/n and sat down on the bed next to her, handing her the mug. It was periwinkle with yellow daisies painted carefully onto it. "Did you sleep well, dear?"

Did she sleep well? y/n hadn't known what a good night's sleep was in weeks. She was either kept awake by the memories of that day flooding her mind, or nightmares tearing her away from her slumber.

"Yeah, I slept fine," she said, holding the hot mug in both hands to warm her body to brace the morning chill.

"Are you sure? Do you need another blanket? Or extra pillows? You do know that Ron is happy to give you his room if-"

"Mrs Weasley, you've done more than enough for me really. This is perfect," y/n said looking around at the room that she had called home for four weeks now.

"I just know that it's not what you're used to," she began, "You're probably missing home a lot."

y/n felt a twinge of sadness pull on her heart. She thought back to that day she left.

------)OOO(------

y/n sat in her sitting room at the very front of the house. It was right by the door so she was able to see every witch and wizard who came in and out of her house. It was odd to think that the house actually belonged to her now. When the ministry man, an old wizard in all black robes and a kind smile approached her and handed her a piece of parchment with no less than 37 pages, she wasn't expecting it to be a will.