crucio ━ harry potter (1)

iii. strangers

Every single day she feared the day that her parents would be there, kneeling, waiting for their death.

"Do it," Runskin instructed.

Aurora looked at them and fear filled their eyes.

        Once it was finished, she was returned to the cellar. She sat up against the wall, eyes on the ground. Her tears had dried, her throat had long stopped beating against her lips and she could breathe again. She wished she couldn't though, she wished she could get it all out of her head. She wished it was all over. She held her hands over her face.

Monster, She thinks, she was becoming - she was a monster.

She would rather die than become evil.

The door opened, she quickly sits up, and for the first time, Pierre entered. Typically, he would just stand outside the door. She had a feeling that was him anyways - John and Frank were much louder and they came in whenever they wanted.

Pierre entered and looked around. He didn't say anything and he walked over to the window and looked outside. She watched him. He was wearing formal, dark grey dress robes, long brown hair laying down by his shoulders.

"You do that every time" Was all he said.

"Do what?" Her voice sounded small.

"You cry, you get sick, you cry." He told her. "You empathize. Every time you kill people. I thought at the start you would stop but it keeps happening. How many people has it been now? Twenty-five? Thirty? You cry every time."

"Forty-nine." She corrected. "Twenty-one men, twenty-seven women, and...one child."

He nodded. "It has to be done. There isn't any other way."

"Right." She agreed. He sounded like he had to say that.

"The Wizarding world needs to be mended, reformed."

"Right."

"And Runskin is the only one who can do it." There was something in his tone.

"Agreed."

"But you still cry," He pointed out, walking towards her. "Why do you do that?"

Because she felt suffocated at the thought that forty-nine innocent people had died at her hand. They died at her hand. She was the one who did it — even though she couldn't control herself, she still did it. Even though it was under someone else's orders, she still did it. She killed innocent people; worst of all when it happened, for a split moment whilst her mind was free, she felt nothing. She killed someone's mother, father, brother, sisters, she killed them.

Forty nine innocent people.

She stared at him. "I can't help it anymore." She told him. It was silent between them for a moment. "They're innocent people. They're people. I can't control my emotions. I used to be able too but not anymore. If I force myself to not cry then I worry I'll go back to like how I was before."