¡Possible TW!- pain.
❦✩𓅓☾༒☽☀︎︎
Chapter seven.
❦✩𓅓☾༒☽☀︎︎
News of the recent attack spread like a wildfire. The talk of the town was based solemnly on the danger and fatalities which had been caused by the so-called 'reckless criminals ambushing society,', as so kindly spoken by a reporter on the scene.
Luckily for Alora, word hadn't leaked about the acknowledgement of her involvement, well any more than a mere mention of a 'girl'. The Minister of Magic must have had a say for that one. Although, they- she did do a good job at preventing any witnesses, except from occasional odd glances from those with tents on the outskirts of the campsite.
But she didn't know that.
After Narcissa had apparated onto the scene, the leaves of the blowing trees hunched over the path where she stood and there was a minute of tranquillity. Until a bitter smell of smoke and ashes filled the clean air with the cold and heartless remains of the toxic fumes.
She was relieved to find her son safe and sound. The knowledge she restored of the day had caused a huge weight over her shoulders, worried for the well-being of her son and husband.
And Alora.
Unlike her husband, Narcissa was able to pinpoint the care she held for the girl. Like any motherly figure, Narcissa tried to welcome Alora into her family, as best she could. Despite knowing her true relations.
Meanwhile, Lucius was cold and bitter to the girl, for what seemed like a bit of unprovoked rivalry. He had good intentions at heart but his execution of those ideas were uncalled for and all-round wrong. He was dangerous and fierce, just like his acquaintances, which meant that his harsh punishments never settled to be kind.
This brings us to the current situation.
Lucius told Alora not to go, that was his pre-warning of the pain she was yet to endure. Instead of obeying his rules, Alora disregarded the aftermath of her actions and tried to live in the moment.
However, that was proving to be difficult for the time being.
Laying on a stone cold floor, Alora was trying to regain her breath into a steady pattern. The shaking of her fingers soon infected her whole body into a violent fit of trembling limbs. She didn't know if it was from the cool temperatures or the surge of her insides being ripped to shreds and diced into small dainty pieces inside of the young lady's body.
Her body was frozen in its stance as her arms and legs were sprawled across the solid floor. Tangled against one another, they try to embrace whatever dignity was left within the girl, which was proving to be very little.
After being internally stripped into millions of tiny pieces, it's hard to try fit those parts back together. The human anatomy is like a huge puzzle, you see. Each organ, each cell, each limb, each bone. They tie together to create something so magnificent and so majestic that some people can't fathom to watch it bloom, a human life.
In reality, stripping a life from its roots and placing it into a situation it isn't satisfied with will only ever cause great harm. Whether that's emotionally or physically, it's enough to personally humiliate oneself.
So, as she lay in the moss of decaying brick woven walls, she felt alone and helpless, something she had never felt so openly about before. Her flimsy body was left to rest itself against a thick pillar, which helped the many other pillars around the dismal room support the stability of the space.
Continual droplets of rain fell from the ceiling of the room, which seemed to be bewitched to forever rain, splattered against the young girls face, making a puddle lay beneath her head. The distant shadows clouded the reflection of any source of light, allowing Alora to have nothing but darkness to stare into.
The mixture of exhaustion and lack of visibility made Alora's consciousness barely identify-able. However, as the slow buzzing in her ear faded out, everything around her fell silent.
And suddenly, the silence had so much to say.
Harry Potter wasn't a stranger to the silence, the days at the Dursley's home was every definition of silence. Not necessarily in the way where everything was quiet, it was more in a way that he was invisible to the family. No one spoke to him, no one acknowledged him and no one even accepted him unless it was completely necessary, even then they couldn't open their stone shut hearts enough to let him linger any longer than a minute or two.
However, the burrow was anything but quiet and sometimes that was overwhelming for Harry. The constant love and support he was offered there was unmatched from what he ever recalls feeling.
From above, Lily and James watch their son with absentminded smiles. The love they still hold for the young boy is strictly unbreakable and they feel truly grateful for Molly and Arthur being able to reciprocate those feelings towards Harry, for them.
So, seeing Harry in any sorts of danger broke their hearts. But after all, he was the son of James Potter and somehow Harry couldn't escape it, even if he tried.
Fleeing the scene was the obvious decision for Mr Weasley. So, after he met with the rest of his family, they were quick to head back to the port key and travel back home. Arthur stayed abnormally close to Harry that night, never letting him be unattended in case danger was to strike again.
Though, nothing further had happened.
At their return, Molly was eager to welcome them all inside with large wide eyes and panicked hugs and kisses. Insisting that they must eat, despite eating before the match, they all knew not to disturb the woman's distressed cooking as it was the only way she could distract herself from the intense emotions she felt in the given moment.
Sitting at the table, everyone had many questions they wished to receive answers for. One being the only thing that clouded Harry's mind.
"Dad. Who were they? You know, the ones that attacked." Ron suddenly broke the thoughtful silence, the sound of sizzling coming from the kitchen.
Arthur took a deep sigh before replying. "Death eaters. Followers of— You-Know-Who."
"But— how is that possible? Half of them fled at the sight of the— mark." Asked Bill, the oldest Weasley child. "You would think if they truly were followers then they would have admired it." The mention of the dark mark sent shivers down all of their spines.
"Probably after the realisation of their disloyalty to You-Know-Who, they knew that there would be consequences." Stated Arthur, miserably.
"But—" started George.
"He's dead." Finished Fred.
"So they say." Bill mumbled gloomily, this caught the attention of everyone present at the table.
"Think about it, why would this have happened if he was dead? By his followers too." He supported his point, validly.
"They're death eaters Bill, who bloody knows what goes on in their deranged minds." Ron huffed, growing agitated from the hunger he has retained.
"Right, that's enough of this talk." Stated Mr Weasley sternly.
"Wait—" Harry burst out. "Mr Weasley, who was— who was that girl?" He blurted out desperately, eager to gain an answer to the question which swarmed his mind.
Taking a sharp breath, Arthur opened his mouth to answer but he was interrupted by plates of food swarming into the dining area.
"Girl, what girl?" Asked Mrs Weasley, concerned.
"Nothing to worry about, dear. Harry was just quite taken with a girl we ran into earlier, he wanted to see if I knew of her name." Arthur shot Harry a look which told him to go with it.
"Oh isn't that just wonderful!" She gushed, "I really hope you find her again my boy, oh to be young and in love, again."
Harry smiled awkwardly as he nodded with Mrs Weasley, silently cursing Mr Weasley for putting him in an awkward situation.
Everyone began to tuck in to the small variety of foods Mrs Weasley had prepared and listened to Molly's rambling affections of love to each and everyone present before sending them all off to bed.
Nevertheless, Harry couldn't sleep. The events of the day were signs of Voldemort's return. He wasn't dead, as he figured out in his first and second year, but the previous events made everything feel a lot more real.
Things were starting to change and he wasn't sure if he was comfortable with that just yet.
Just for a moment, he wished for no violence.
Just for a moment, she wished for no silence.
...
Alora tossed and turned throughout the night.
Slowly, she started to regain strength in all of her limbs which caused the violent shakes to calm themselves down. Feeling no trace of pain, her eyes fluttered open after a feeling of refreshment filled her body.
As if she had sensed an upcoming arrival, her gaze gravitated towards the window, where she found the trees swaying back and forth in the cloudy skies. As usual. Yet, there was a small object floating within the clouds, contrasting the colour of the sky.
At first it looked like a leaf, departing early from the upcoming autumn trees. However, As it continued in its stance Alora noticed that it wasn't in fact a leaf but some sort of bird.
It's wings spread broadly as the feathers of its body brushed through the wind tentatively. It's beak was sharp and rather pointy from a usual bird, with eyes opened wide and painted with a dark shade of yellow, she realised that this wasn't a random bird but an owl.
She assumed it had been directed to Lucius or Draco, as they received many letters clawed into the owls clutch. So, she turned away and redirected her attention onto the bed, in which she sat admiring the wall blankly.
A tap erupted from her window, pulling her gaze away from the brick. It was a harsh rap on the glass. Harsh enough to startle the girl from where she sat. Suddenly alert, her head whipped towards the window focusing her eyes on the small creature perched outside.
She walked over to the window once again, this time glancing over a letter in its claw, but the recognition didn't hit her. She tapped on the window in an attempt to redirect the owl, but she got no reaction out of the small animal.
"Shoo!" She hissed through the murmured glass, continuing to repetitively tap on the window. "Move along now. Shoo!"
She huffed at the lack of interaction it presented her. "Stupid bird." She mumbled.
Staring at the lock of the window, she decided to look around her room for a key or anything she could open it with. Her search for an item continued for a few minutes until her eyes caught on a small gleam of metal.
A Bobby pin.
She didn't entirely understand it's use, it was a piece of folded over metal with a side that seemed to be wavy. Nothing that would help her unless she was in a situation like this one.
So, as she picked the unknown object up, she travelled back towards the window eagerly. A feeling of inquiry swarmed her bloodstream, making her question the reasoning behind the birds arrival.
It couldn't have been for anyone else if it was so adamant on staying with her, surely.
As she looked towards the window, the bird had now gone. Her heart dropped the tiniest bit, not a lot, or anything that she could ever admit to, but enough to make her features lose their relaxed appearance.
Seeing the situation as a total misinterpretation or some silly game was the easiest way to perceive it. A naïve thought in the young girls brain was enough to persuade her otherwise, though she had sworn to herself not to act on it.
And so her self control stopped her.
Examining the spot where the owl once perched, Alora had failed to notice the letter with carvings of a green ink, which was almost a shade darker than her eyes. The stained letter of parchment was usually a dark shade of beige coffee. However, when it landed, the colour seemed to divert into one of blotchy stone, which blended into the windowsill it was placed against.
Without a flicker of recognition, she turned away forcefully and lay back in her bed. Thinking of all the possibilities it could have been.
She even found herself thinking of what happened the previous night before. She didn't usually do that, she didn't like to reflect on the vulnerabilities she held within. Despite it being a 'normal' emotion, Alora wasn't "normal", she was a Riddle.
And something she learnt about being a Riddle was that emotions are nothing but leverages people can use against you.
So, she didn't notice the nagging sensation flaring in her stomach.
She didn't notice an ongoing tingle over her right eye.
And most importantly, she didn't notice the letter fall into the open window below her room,
Where someone was overly joyed to read the inscription.
❦✩𓅓☾༒☽☀︎︎
Sorry? What does this meannnnnn???
lol, I know what it means.
Almost at 200 reads... SORRYYYY?!!!!!! hehdjsbshshsbdjd, it doesn't sound like a lot but it means so much to me <3
❦✩𓅓☾༒☽☀︎︎
Published: 21/03/22