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the tragedy of the fallen star
ASTRID LESTRANGE WAS NEVER the type to contemplate the past nor the future. She always lived in the present, as the poets would say, live as if your next breath is your last. And maybe that's why no one was prepared to lose her.
It all happened so suddenly, one moment she was there, her body being the centerpiece in the middle of absolute chaos, but then everything around her seemed to disappear as she realized this was her end. The sun shone on her one last time, illuminating every scar, every burn, every gentle touch shared by the ones who loved her even in her darkest times.
And as the bells chimed, confirming the death of Harry Potter, her existence was no longer real. Her physical body turned to dust, blowing away as the wind grew harder. Everyone standing on what used to be home - now turned into a graveyard housing the lost innocent souls of a one-sided war, stood paralyzed watching the girl that had bewitched them all become nothing but a memory.
June 18th, the birth of a falling star. A little girl who was created for a singular purpose, her entire life placed out on a blackboard, the gods left to precisely decide her every move. Every aspect and crevice on her body was hand painted with the most delicacy, a mask begging for forgiveness considering their unspeakable sins.
Astrid Lestrange, the falling star, was madness in human form. She would dance the corridors of Hogwarts, leaving all her problems to just diminish away, her mind only focusing on the two boys always dancing beside her, both fated for the same end.
She was easily persuaded to break the rules, as if she didn't have much time to feel every feeling her brain could create. It was always a never-ending fever to tread so carelessly on the line that separates life and death.
Astrid was this mystery that no one could quite solve, a maze that didn't have an exit. Her beauty lures you in until you can't breathe, suffocating inside her. And the last thought you ever have is how in some way, you had died repairing her selfish, broken soul.
ASTRID REGULUS LESTRANGE, born on midnight of June 18th, would forever be a heavenly star, falling endlessly in the night sky.
HARRY JAMES POTTER, a boy born to die, would forever be the one who defied the fates and fell hopelessly in love with someone simply unreachable.
a story about two souls, who found out happy endings don't exist.
