❛ASTERIA EDWARDS was your average, typical eleven-year-old child stuck in a pandemic with her mother Isabella Diggory until she found out where she truly came from.. and where she truly belonged...❜
[extended summary inside]
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harry potte...
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Asteria Edwards had barely prepared herself for the hell that this year at Hogwarts was going to be.
She had packed her trunk and all her luggage, double-checked if she had taken everything.. most importantly the two journals and her star-charts.
She had been less messy and rushed this time, but even so felt more anxious than ever. It wasn't surprising. It wasn't at all.
"Don't focus on what others might say."
"Better to not get involved with new people. Stay close to your friends. The ones we can trust."
"You'll be getting your old dorm back, so you don't have to worry about hurting others."
"It would be better to stay behind the mask for a while, just like in Diagon Alley. Wait until you've reached Hogwarts and the gates are closed."
Yeah.. she had received all the advice she had expected already.
But now she stared at the familiar corner of her room, hands itching for movement and eyes trained on the wrapped Christmas gift from last year that she still hadn't opened.
'For Captain Edwards.
You'll never cease to amaze me, sweetheart. I'm so proud of you. And don't you ever let anyone or anything otherwise.
Merry Christmas. From your old woman.'
She had lost the count of how many times she had read those words.
They were on a small note, pinned to the wrapped Firebolt that Isabella had gifted her.
There was also another letter that she assumed was crafted with apologies and affection.. that she craved to rip open and indulge herself into, until Theodore had told her something.
"It's something like a Howler."
"A Howler?" she'd asked. "Why would Mum send me a Howler to scream at me when I was mad at her?
Theodore had pursed his lips. "Like a Howler, not one. There are ways you can send a message that will play out like a Howler, but quieter, without any screaming. And it doesn't explode if you don't open it.. seeing as it hasn't yet." he'd wondered. "For how long have you had it now?"
"Around seven months."
"Figured. So no, it won't explode. But it might—"
The question had left her mouth almost immediately. "You think it'll burn away once it's done?"
You mean, after that, I wouldn't get to hear her voice again? was what she'd actually meant.
So, no. She didn't open it. She couldn't. She couldn't let the last time come so soon.
