Water and Blood

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My parents were dead.

The words repeated in my head, then seemed to run in and out of my ears and through my body, touching every part of me to try to stir... something.

A reaction.

An emotion.

But everything was quiet within me. Not an ember stirred.

And now two sets of eyes were starring at me, waiting for.... something.

Did they want me to cry? To scream?

I truly wanted to—and not because I was sad but because of the expectation of a reaction.

It seemed that if I could muster up any type of emotion then they could finally release the breath they'd been holding.

"She's in shock," the man, who I'd learned was named Severus, said as he looked to the curly haired woman.

They'd both been strangers to me until about 10 minutes ago.

I'd been laying on the couch in the parlor reading when a shadow had caught my eye out the window. My first thought had been "it must be a plane" but it'd thought it odd because we usually didn't get planes flying over this part of the countryside.

I'd placed down my book and walked over to the window. I saw nothing but the morning light casting it's warm glow across the rolling hills. Quite a picturesque scene that made me momentarily forget about the shadow.

Then my thoughts wandered —to the idea of a picnic because the weather looked unusually warm for England this time of year— when the door behind me flew open without warning.

The force of it generated a gust of wind that had all the loose papers and weightless objects in the room flying about. It was the kind of wind that didn't follow the laws of muggle physics and had but only one explanation:

Magic.

I covered my eyes with my arm and turned around towards the opened door, consequently knocking over the priceless china vase that sat on the windowsill.  

When the wind died out I dropped my arm to see a woman standing in the doorway. She had wild black curls and was dressed in gothic attire. She smiled at me wickedly and began to walk towards me slowly with a click...click... click... of her heels against the hardwood floor.

My mouth dropped open but I didn't speak. I was too frightened of the woman in front of me.

She was a witch and had a deranged look in her eye.

There weren't many magic folk in the countryside where we lived. The only one I knew of was the bakers daughter, who was muggle born and ended up moving to attend a school in Scotland.

Then there was my parents and myself.

The witch was sizing me up, looking me up and down as if I was a pathetic little thing. And I felt that way too since I had no way to defend myself—my wand was upstairs.

Even if I did have it, it was obvious this woman was out of my league. 

She stopped, a couple feet from me. I prepared for her to shoot a spell in my direction, as she'd look positively mad. Instead, without a word, she spun around to look at the room we stood in, as if taking stock of all the items.

Severus walked in a few seconds after, flowing robes and all, looking quite put out. He quickly glanced in my direction before addressing the woman.

"Honestly Bellatrix, can't you learn to restrain yourself," he reproached her.

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