❦✩𓅓☾༒☽☀︎︎
Chapter five.
❦✩𓅓☾༒☽☀︎︎
IT WAS DARK but then again, it wasn't.
She was floating along a ground of uneven hills, nothing to be seen except the green haze emitting from the floor. She kept moving forwards despite the lack of control she had over her body, until she abruptly stopped and her body halted with a slight jolt. Her floating body twisted to the side, catching the glimpse of a hooded figure. It had a broad cape clambering over its body and eyes as dark as the reaper. 'It might even be the reaper.' She thought to herself.
It's back was ridged as it's body towered over her, it's dauntingly large figure oversized her body intimidatingly. An engraved pedestal with words written in a structured font littered the lower block of which it stood upon. Marked with letters she couldn't identify but they were marks of property.
She pushed forwards, trying to gain control over her body again, but she couldn't. A feeling she was growing too familiar with.
Suddenly, she pushed forwards until she was face to face with the hollowed faced hooded figure.
It was still, never moving once, as you should expect for a stone feature. The green moss clambered over the corners and creases of its body, spreading the mass of mould along its fractured, ageing structure.
She spent so long analysing it's features that she didn't catch the weapon raising. The large blade was curved at a hundred and eighty degree angle upwards, as sharp as flint, the weapon swung in its grip.
It took a strong pull backwards with an echoing clank of the concretes scraping against one another, before swinging it directly through her dazed body, sending her senses into a shock like no other. She felt herself jerk...
Once,
Twice,
Three times.
Suddenly, a pit rose in her stomach, the sensation along her body was replaced by small hands, grazing her skin cordially. Heat spread throughout her body at the contact, leaving her to groan as she shifted on the spot. Her eyes fluttered open and she caught sight of a figure. Her vision was still blurry which made her wary due to the situation that had previously been unfolded.
Her hands rubbed her eyes, in hopes of pushing the anxious thoughts away. Calm, composed.
Calm? Composed.
She reopened her eyes to meet the mysterious identity. Face to face not with a figure, nor a silhouette but her little elf. She was healing the bruises that kissed her knuckles and altered their colour with a deep shade of red.
"Oh, Madame Lory. You're awake!" She exclaimed excitedly, wrapping the hand with bandages.
"Is it gone?" She dared ask.
"Your cuts? Yes Mistress, Tinkle did her best." Assured immediately, still fixated on her knuckles tenderly.
"I mean... the thing."
"W-what are you talking about, Mistress?" The elf inquired, her eyes were as dumbfounded as they were large. Concern filtered through the elf, pulsing through her heart in hopes of assistance for her valuable owner.
Now Alora was confused.
Did she not see it?
"The shadow... it- well, it attacked me-" she started to explain despite how pathetic it sounded, however, a mighty gasp left the elf's lips at her confession. A horrified look caressed her features as she mentioned the scenario.
"You're- oh... oh wow, Madame Lorsy do you know what this means?" The elf had expected her to know about her mother, about her heritage however, the thought was naïve and Tinkle definitely wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed.
Talking about her mother was as forbidden as her freedom. She has occasionally drifted amongst her mind in hopes of any recollection of the woman which she could hopefully gather, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't. It was like something was blocking the connection, overpowering her mind, forcing her to forget about her. Whatever it was, she was thankful for it as it doesn't do well to dwell upon the past, Alora wanted to live in the moment.
Despite her morals, she pictured her to be cunning and manipulative like her father, two peas in a pod with desires of glory like no other. Their harsh and bitter ways would leave society trembling at their feet, waiting until their prey begged for death. Only then would they approve. Why? Because they would be the king and queen of the wizarding world, of course.
It's all a lie though, isn't it?
"Enlighten me Tink, what does it mean?" She insisted, her tone was demanding.
"I'm sorry Alora, if you were to know... things wouldn't be the same." She panicked, trying to gain composure in-front of the terrifying girl.
"How would things not be the same?" She pressed.
"Tinkle must not say, Madame Lorsy." She denied, again.
"You will tell me what happened to me, Tink. That's an order, you're not going to defy your master are you?" She smirked, knowing the little elf couldn't escape this one.
"Tink is ever so sorry, she said to much. Tink must punish herself." She rushed towards the dresser, smacking her head against the wooden drawer. Each bang grew louder as more force was provided which caused Alora to pull her away immediately, watching Tink slowly injure and harm herself didn't sit well with her.
"Tink, stop. Don't hurt yourself." She begged the elf, the weird feeling seemed to blossom in her stomach, until it felt like a grand, elegant and sophisticated tree which stemmed into each vein tenderly. An emotion tree. Something she would never agree with as frankly, she didn't do emotions.
"Tink made a promise, a promise to not tell you until you're ready."
"I am ready Tink, look things are changing either way and I don't fancy being attacked ag-"
The loud click of a door unlocking surged across the room, a clip of footsteps echoed through the hall, the connection between poshly polished boots clanking against the speckless wooden planked floor accompanied the click. The hinges of the door whined desperately in need in oil. The metal clasps were rusted with brown flakes, bathing the uncared for metal in the consequences of the unhygienic conditions.
"Alora..." spoke the one person she couldn't deal with at that moment. His blond hair was greasier than before, creating a sight like soggy noodles.
"Come in why don't you," she retorted to no one in particular, sarcastically, her lips were pulled into her mouth offering him a bitter smile.
"Assuming you have a good reason to invade my space, I will let you continue." She spoke with all hints of sarcasm dropped, leaving this to be the most normal conversation they have ever had.
"And why should I be listening to you?" He snarled with a twitch of his nose.
There was a moment of silence, the only noticeable substance in the air was a sliver of tension which crept throughout the room, forcing a bubble to form around the two people. It was cold and bitter as it lured them into a stiffened taste of the sour air. Their eyes met and immediately, Alora felt the urge to smirk, but she didn't. Her face remained static, unmoving and displeasing to witness.
A twitch of her facial muscles caused her to smile warningly, "Because I wasn't asking." She stated simply while holding his eye contact until he eventually cowered away. Leaving her to turn back to Tink, she saw that she was stood behind her watching the interaction unfold.
Lucius was stunned. His hands started to bleed with beads of sweat and his throat was barricaded by a growing sensation, which rose from the pit of his stomach. The nostalgia he felt at this moment reminded him of a very specific period which enrolled 13 years ago.
"Cat got your tongue?" She taunted, feeling satisfied with the fidgety reaction he had picked up.
He cleared his throat, mentally and physically composing himself so he wouldn't completely embarrass his name in front of her. But, why was he so bothered? She was only a 'silly girl who expected the world.'
"On behalf of— everyone's wishes," he cringed as he spoke the word 'everyone's', signifying that he didn't have a choice in the matter. He and his family were not and never will be as powerful as he hoped for and he's sour about that.
"You will be accompanying Narcissa and I to Diagon Alley tomorrow morning. You best be ready, it will be a... busy day." He smirked from one corner of his lips before turning around almost immediately and storming out.
"Such a man of dramatics..." she muttered, "thank you for- helping me?" She asked unintentionally, she had meant to sincerely thank her however, it's not something she had grown familiar with. Manners didn't 'apply' in those following walls, however, she was sure that they would apply once they've left the not so comfortable comfort of the house.
Diagon Alley, it sounds like the name of a children's book. Spoken like a child's book. You know what? Maybe it is just a fictional piece of creativity, it would explain the everlasting feeling she felt.
The feeling of watching others live their lives while she was stored away, left to maintain her thoughts and glory. For what? A stupid mistake, an unthought plan or a rational decision made by her father which lead to two children with mass destruction in their paths.
Little did he know that he caused a fate, one that he could never imagine being reality. He unknowingly slotted some puzzle pieces together by the wave of his wand and he would not agree with the outcome.
Little did Alora know, fate was and always will be on her side.
...
Many miles away, a brown haired boy with striking green eyes was caught beaming like a Cheshire Cat.
After Arthur and his tail of Weasleys had come to rescue him from the god awful house of 4 Privet Drive, the joy hit him like a breath of freshly produced air. It was those moments where he could see his friends that made his suffering with the Dursleys worthwhile.
Being around the friends he considered to be his family brought him an everlasting rush of joy, a feeling of adrenaline which couldn't be controlled. Whether things were tough or stressful between Harry and the Weasleys, he always knew that they would be okay in the end. Despite the nagging feeling he felt, it dawned on him that soon enough he would be back with the people who share his blood and that was haunting his mind like no other.
Stolen moments.
That's what his spurts of happiness were, they were stolen periods in time of which the world decided to let his mind grow quiet. His brain however, didn't work that way often, it was busy and confusing. An endless stream of thoughts treacle through his mind like a deep rooted river, stemming its ways.
But he didn't care. As long as he had these people around him, he felt untouchable and an odd sense of pride towards each member of the family. They took him in like he was their own, holding him under their wing like he was a bird being stalked by prey. In some ways he was of course, they knew that, but not to the extent. No one knew how much danger Harry was truly in.
The Potter boy was a magnet to danger, he had a deep root embedded in his bloodstream making him drawn to it in a way that showcased bravery. It was his Gryffindor side. Danger was carved into his soul, marking it as its own. His mind was blinded by selflessness and the danger feasted on it rapidly, it's motive being manipulation of his kindness.
His mind was a weapon and he would soon discover that.
"Have you gotten your school books yet, Harry?" Asked the familiar red headed mother with a kind and welcoming smile.
"Not yet... no, I was sort of assuming that well- that we would be going." He scratched the back of his head to push away his awkwardness, his voice wavered between quiet and shaky which made him appear nervous, despite this, he was actually very comfortable around Mrs Weasley, it just takes some getting used to the interaction after being stored away for so long.
"Of course we are, just had to make sure, my dear." She smiled with a tea towel resting over her shoulder, the apron she wore was plain white with small polka dots scattered around the material, it looked as if it had never been washed by its aged quality, however, that's what the family liked.
"Well, we best get off then," she announced, checking the clock eagerly. "Weasleys!" She bellowed through the house, her voice pounded against the walls, bouncing into thousands of directions until the only noise that could be identified was the thudding of the steps as the Hurd of gingers galloped into their kitchen.
Harry watched the interaction with an overjoyed expression, the way his eyes lit up as he saw the family hardly went unnoticed. A chuckle slipped out of his lips as Ron stumbled down a step, catching his footing before he sent everyone down like a set of dominoes
"Steady Ron, you don't want to make mum any more panicked." Fred said knowingly, looking towards his twin with a sheepish expression.
"Yeah, she'll be needing those feet of hers for when she needs to chase us." George replied humorously, sharing the same look with his mirrored twin.
"What are you boys talking about?" Inquired the mother Weasley, skeptically staring at her boys. Having 6 kids, she learnt how to read people extremely easily, however the twins were like no other children she had raised.
The mischief created from those boys were beyond Molly's wildest dreams. Ever since they were in the womb, the trouble they had caused by kicking nonstop and disrupting the loving couples rest was never ending.
And it continued to this day.
"Never you mind, mother." They said in sync, knowing she wouldn't be very happy with the situation, they decided to leave it until afterwards.
"Right well, we better get going." She said before directing them all through the floo powder.
At their arrival, they brushed their clothes clean from all partials of dust they had collected from the journey and pushed the door open, exiting the small shop in a huddle.
They made their way past the variety of shops which accompanied the small path on each sides, walking along the alley they stopped as they looked towards Ollivanders noticing two suspiciously cautious Malfoy's glancing behind their shoulders frantically. Anyone could notice that they were up to something, but what?
Harry nudged Ron, who turned around curiously towards the boy. Harry just nodded his head in the direction the Malfoy's previously stood, wanting a second opinion on the matter. Confusion filled the ginger boys body as he looked in the direction Harry had pointed, searching the streets he didn't notice anything abnormal which caught Harry's attention.
"The Malfoy's, look they're by Olliv-" he turned around, catching a glance at the now empty storefront. "But I don't understand, they were right there and they looked suspicious."
"There's no one there mate," he said, turning Harry's shoulder towards the book store they were stood in-front of. "I'm sure it was nothing, the Malfoy's are always suspicious, aren't they?"
"But why would they go to Ollivanders? Draco already has a wand." He stated blatantly, his brows being pulled together into a fixated scowl of confusion.
"I know mate, just come on." Ron said reluctantly, eyeing his friend with a hint of worry. They walked into the bookstore, searching for the other gingers spotted around.
Little did they know, the Malfoy's were in fact passing by the duo at the given moment, hearing each word that had been spoken. Lucius being his arrogant self only sneered at the filthy blood traitors, Narcissa bowing her head in thought while Alora just smirked and kept moving at their pace.
After purchasing her wand, she had felt ecstatic. A fresh feeling fluttered through her stomach and danced within her heart. 'The wood from a holly, a hair of death' was what the magical stick was described as.
The elderly man who had presented it to her had large wide eyes which bathed in the pale reflection of the dusk, which fell upon the street quickly. Time flies when you're having fun, hey?
She wasn't having fun.
She had been presented many different wands, most of which weren't the right fit. Majority of these mistaken matches caused havoc in the depth of the narrowed box library. Stacks of boxes had fallen off of their rows as she was presented an alder wood wand which proved that it wasn't correct. It happened many of times, until one box caught Ollivander's eye. It was one he had been skeptically glancing towards throughout this session, however, he had hoped that it wasn't a gut instinct.
As soon as he held the box, he knew. The wands aura started to race excitedly, radiating invisible sparks around the room out of pure exhilaration. There had only been two wands made with the incredibly rare core that her wand was presented with, both of which, almost as powerful as one another.
"Wood from a holly this, and my oh my. Do you know what this piece of hair is?" He gawked at the materials.
Alora shook her head in question.
"Well, this is a hair with a dark meaning." He stated, eyeing the dark wood eagerly. "It means that you have been presented with a gift, one that you should cherish my dear girl."
"We should expect great things from you."
Soon after that he had rushed her out of the store, eager to serve the many new children who were elated to own their very own wand.
As they left the shop, they passed by a bookstore. Not before Alora noticed one of the boys to have messy brown hair and a chiselled jawline. His face was turned away as he laughed at his friends joke however, his 3/4 side profile showed him to be one of the most beautiful people she had ever seen. Not that there were many, but something about him was different.
Something she wanted to discover.
❦✩𓅓☾༒☽☀︎︎
What do you think the wand is made from?
Harry????? Wtf???? Hello?????
Next ones a big one.
❦✩𓅓☾༒☽☀︎︎
Published: 17.02.22