Wrath | Oliver Wood

1.

"Just goes to show that the blood you bleed is the blood you owe."

[no time to die-Billie eilish]

The gunshot echoes across the room, ripping at the skin of the man that stands before her. He drops down like nothing more than a bag of rocks. His fall sounds across the room and she watches as he takes his last breath, leaving behind the world that he offered nothing to. She scoffs as she kicks his lifeless body, searching for the thing that they were ready to give up their lives for. her fingers run across the sharp edges of the jewels and she laughs, surrounded by dead bodies who find no comfort in her laugh. "All that," she says to no one in particular, "for a rock."

She shouldn't be here. All limbs and power and vengeance. She was a thing of legends but there she was in flesh. not a pitting image of the ancient myth but still here. Scars across her knuckles and wrath like a fire burning behind her eyes. She was born with a curse. To feel the wrath, to search for it. This never-ending desire to feel anger would haunt her until she was nestled back into the ground from which she came. When legends spoke of her they told the story of an ancient spirit cursed with the hunger for anger, fury, wrath. No magic, nothing. Just a girl with severe anger issues. But Ira is more than that. She's a witch. The ancient blood, running through her veins she was a witch and that crown was powerful. 

She's away from the bodies. Far away from the sirens that have probably discovered the bodies and their stolen goods. The night sky is a dark cover for her as she slides in and out of the streetlights. Her house draws nearer and she shakes off the stares that follow her from her neighbour's windows.

She'd been brought up in a muggle neighbourhood in hopes that Voldermort would never find her. her parents knew that the curse would never fade but they were desperate to never let He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named get his hands on her. It was also in desperation, in hopes that their own daughter born to them after years of infertility would not be murder.

Their plan had failed. Ira was a murderer. Blood on her hands every night of the summer. while ost teens spent their summers lazing, Ira spent every day, searching for a fight, searching for something to feed the pit in her soul.

She wasn't in need of saving, wasn't a damsel. She knew her battles and was friends with her demons,. She didn't need to be saved from her demons but Dumbledore thought otherwise. Dumbledore and his godforsaken saviour complex. He knew of the myths and the several children born under the legend. the ones who Tom Riddle would do anything to get his hands on, starting with Ira and he would do anything to protect them.

but what happens when you meddle in something that doesn't need your meddling? Will the girl you tried to save when she didn't need saving, fall into the hands that you sought so hard to protect from ?