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↬↝∗✶✾✶∗↜↫ ↬↝∗✶ ✽✿✽ ✶∗↜↫ ↬↝∗✶✾✶∗↜↫⋯℘☠︎❧♥︎☙☠︎℘⋯Some say the world will end in fire,Some say in ice

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⋯℘☠︎❧♥︎☙☠︎℘⋯
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favour fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

Fire and Ice ~ Robert Frost.
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October 3rd, 1971.

OLIVE WASN'T SURE IF she should simply run away and hide in the muggle world. The thought was tempting. Very much so. It would be easy enough, right? She had spent seventeen years in it before, plus the years she had lived as Olive. Technically, she had spent twenty eight years as a muggle, and she had always been perfectly content with it. Well, the eleven years as Olive Evans shouldn't really be included in the counting of her 'muggle years', since she had actively practised magic ever since she had the ability to move her limbs accordingly.

And for what it was worth, it would be a completely new experience in her current lifetime, since it was currently 1971. And living in the 70s would be very different from living in the 21st century. But she could do it, couldn't she? No. She couldn't. She wouldn't. Not now at least.

She wished it was that simple. Hell, maybe she had even prayed for it once or twice as she was laying in bed, her emerald green covers pulled up to her chin as she stared up at the ebony ceiling, gently letting her eyes trail over the beautiful shell-carvings.

She found it easy to ignore the snappy remarks from her housemates, but when it came to the constant 'pranks' being played on her, she had retorted to placing protective charms around her bed. Some she had made up herself, and some spells she had learned from the excessive reading she tended to do whenever she had any spare time. Which was always.

Yes, the Olive Evans who had initially claimed to hate facts and reading, spent most of her days in the Hogwarts library, trying desperately to learn every spell that she possibly could as fast as humanly possible. Not only because she wanted to protect herself from nasty little brats — but also as preparations for the macabre future, and her inevitable death.

Her emerald green tie served as a sort of bitter reminder of the life the hat had chosen for her. Maybe it was just being difficult — with her being the only recorded case of the famous all-knowing Sorting Hat being completely and utterly useless. The hat knew she would face the most backlash as a Slytherin. And it most certainly knew of the hardships that came with being a muggleborn in a house full of prejudiced arseholes.

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