I sat within a plush black armchair of the house's library, the fire that I sat in front of crackling as I turned the yellowing pages of the book that sat upon my lap. Harry had left shortly after myself and my father had come back inside, handing me the small black book with one word written in silver across the cover, insisting that I should read it so that when I had to leave, I wasn't leaving completely clueless.
The book was simply titled 'Horcruxes', the silver writing upon the cover written in some kind of italic font and as I opened the book, I realised that it wasn't words printed onto the pages but an entire handwritten journal. A small smile crossed my face as I read the signed name of who wrote the journal, the same handwriting that had sent us letters over the years of her teaching us every spell that she'd ever been taught herself.
Hermione Granger. A great witch who my father had once called a Mudblood, a foul insult that was given to someone Muggle-born.
There are three tiers that some witches and wizards still live by, some beliefs just too hard for some to stray from. Purebloods consisted of the witches and wizards with undiluted magical blood, the gene pool having never strayed from those of magical blood. Half-bloods were those of which that had one Muggle parent and one Pureblood parent, Harry Potter himself a mere Half-blood. The last tier and the one that many frowned upon, Muggle-borns. Those witches and wizards that were born with non-magical parents, Hermione Granger one of the many brilliant witches or wizards that came from non-magical bloodlines.
I sighed as I turned my focus back onto the book that sat in my lap, turning the page past where Hermione had signed her name and began reading, even if Harry hadn't explained why learning about Horcruxes was so important.
'A Horcrux is an object in which a dark witch or wizard hides a fragment of his or her soul to become immortal, Horcruxes could only be created after committing murder, the supreme act of evil. The process for the creation of a Horcrux involves a spell and a horrific act that is performed soon after the murder has been committed.'
I paused as my eyes widened briefly in horror, I'd only ever heard someone utter the word Horcrux once before and that had been a hushed conversation that I'd overheard, the men that had talked quietly amongst each other as they discussed seven Horcruxes that had been destroyed during the Battle of Hogwarts. One of the seven Horcruxes had been Harry, I'd listened as they recalled the way he'd walked deep into the Forbidden forest on the grounds of Hogwarts and walked straight to Voldermort, where the dark lord had then destroyed his own Horcrux.
Tearing myself from my thoughts, I quickly scanned the room. The floor to ceiling bookshelves enveloping the walls, one massive bay window sat off to my left as it overlooked the sprawling land. The crystal chandelier that hung from the ceiling added extra light to the surprisingly bright room and a few wooden tables were tucked into the corners of the room. The soft clicking of Archimedes brought my gaze to the matching chair that I sat in, the white and black speckled owl watching me with his golden eyes as he sat on top of the chair. I smiled contently at him before I turned my attention back towards the black leather book, almost rolling my eyes at my distracted mind.
'Given that Horcruxes were precious to those who made them, there were usually protective measures made to prevent them from being stolen or destroyed, such as counter-charms and curses. The Horcrux is considered to be the darkest art and the most terrible of all dark magic.'
I sighed in frustration, running my fingers through my chocolate brown hair as my eyes drifted towards the doors to the library, Scorpius's blonde hair a stark contrast to my own darker hair as he walked further into the room. Taking the black armchair that Archimedes sat perched upon, a book of his own clutched in his ivory hands, "What are you reading?" I asked, gesturing towards the book he held.
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YOU ARE READING
Death Eaters Daughter
Fanfiction"Back so soon, Lysia?" Mattheo taunts, a smirk across his face as he leant forward and rested both elbows upon the long table. "How naive of you to think that you were free. It was only a matter of time before I found you." *** Elysian Malfoy and he...