Blood still covered Marigold's clothes like a third layer of skin. Dust nestled into her auburn curls, making her hair a dull grey.
She had on one shoe as she had lost the comfy left converse somewhere between fighting 3 Acromantulas and waking up the first time.
Limping through the trees with mud soaking into her left sock and getting in between her toes, not doing too well at all in avoiding branches and tree roots
Her hand was wound tightly around the powerful Wand, and her emerald eyes darted from place to place just in case someone or something comes to attack her.
All the while the dark sky covered her already terrible vision with only a waning moon lighting her way.
Her Cloak had disappeared from sight.
Unbeknownst to the Wixen, the watery material had wrapped itself around her like a pair of golden wings.
The black soulless Stone had nestled itself on her middle finger of her left scarred hand wrapping around it like a snake.
The only thing that was completely clean and undamaged was the pair of rose gold-framed glasses, perched on her most likely broken nose. Showing her the world as it was meant to be seen filled with threads of magic that sparkled in the darkness, blocking out how everyone else saw her eyes knowing her gift from Lady magic herself.
Even her instructible charmed briefcase which was shrunk in her bra and stolen from her uncle Vernon had a dent in the side
Eventually, the forest floor ended, and the hard tarmac began.
Walking in the middle of the road, Marigold saw a sign.
But before she could stop and read it, beams of yellow flooded her tired eyes.
Not even hesitating to do so she lifted the cracked wood with her eyes unknowingly glowing the colour of the spell that killed her, making tires screech against the road and burning rubber fills her nose.
Sheila Bennett is a strong woman and an even stronger witch. Teaching was something she excelled at, which was why people went to Whitmore university if they wanted to study The Occult.
Regularly the elder Bennett witch, the only practising Bennett witch, would go to the site of the massacre killing 100 members of her coven and commune with their spirits. This made it possible for her to learn about other lines of witches, any curses or myths, the history of the supernatural, or little tricks of bettering spells.
It was common for Bennetts of the past to just pop up when she was home alone, they didn't have much to do being dead, so they gossiped a lot.
One evening after bringing up the beginnings of Witch history to her granddaughter, full well knowing Bonnie believed she was drunk, yet Bonnie knew all about plants that could help in different situations as it was drilled into her believing Sheila had a hobby in botany.
Anyway, when Bartholomew Bennett, a wondrous 14-year-old who was burnt in 1790, exclaimed loudly with bright eyes disturbing her peaceful green and vervain tea "Get up off that sofa, Grandmother, as you will be getting in the horseless metal carriage and retrieving her"
"Child, relax" Sheila murmured with a straight face and eyebrow raised, as she placed her steaming tea on the counter "I will not go anywhere without a good excuse"
Bartie was unperturbed as he marched around the kitchen island, placing his transparent hands on his living descendant's shoulders even if they go through them and with a serious expression which was a first, telling her "Death has just arrived. And she is filled with killer green"
Soft notes of jazz flitted through the air of the run-down yellow bug as Sheila drove over the bridge to the world outside the supernatural bubble, leaving Bartie at home waiting for her return as if he was a puppy. That was until she saw someone standing in the middle of the road, a petite young woman who looked like she came out of a war zone.
Bloodstained from her face to the bottom of her faded jeans, but what was worse was the pure fear rippling off the young girl. Sheila knew this was the person she was meant to find, filled with pure magic that made the girl's eyes lit like emerald flames which matched the fire blazing in the middle of the road.
Hot flames licked the cold night air, as the elder Bennett witch left the screeching vehicle. Sheila looked at the wicked flames with awe, instead of looking for the ridged girl. The heat was caressing the nature witch, basked in the beautiful warmth of the wild flames that Sheila had to hold herself back from touching as they were a siren call to her.
Marigold was frightened, was this woman a rouge death eater?
The ironic twinge around the elder woman from residual Blood magic, forgotten magic, dark magic was about right. If she was the last Potter could kill her right? She was not going to be an outlet for her anger at Tommy boy's demise, she could not handle another Malfoy Manor experience.
She wouldn't be able to survive.
Neither of the magic users spoke for a few minutes, making the tension thicken. Eventually, Marigold shouted out desperately over the roaring flames "Show me your arms"
Sheila complied with the odd request by pushing up the sleeves of her knitted cardigan, presenting her unblemished mocha smooth skin that glowed against the waltzing green embers.
Seeing her shoulders droop slightly as well as some of the cautiousness disappear from her deadly emerald eyes, the Bennett asked stepping closer to the lowered and more natural-coloured flames "Spirits have been talking about you, child. They say your Death"
"They need to shut up and mind their business" The Last Potter spat, knowing full well Sir Nick was the biggest gossip in the castle for the last 5 centuries
"Indeed" She hummed with amusement shining in her eyes. A kind smile grew on her thin lips "I am Sheila"
Marigold return that smile, it was completely fake both knew it neither cared nor pointed it out. Giving a two-finger solute that had small sparks fly off her fingertips, "Lovely name" Marigold complemented "But I'm off"
"Where?" The Kinky haired Bennett questioned with a knowing look
"The ends of the earth" The tired Wixen snarked. Any to roll her eyes at the silence between them, admitting "I don't know, somewhere no one could find me"
"Why don't you come with me and get some rest and a shower" Sheila coaxed in the echo of the dark night
"So, you can use me for some scheme" Marigold growled, as the glow of the dancing flames armed themselves once more in toxic green "Not. Happening"
"I could just leave you here" The elder Bennett surmised
"Perfect" The blood-stained girl mused as she turned to walk away, only to pause seconds later
"But if I heard about you from the spirits," Sheila said, not even acknowledging the Potter's spite with a simple shrug "Who's to say others won't"
"I have had people after me for years" The Last Potter shouted with so much fury, it brought tears to her eyes; something not even she knew was still possible
"But were you alone?"
It was such a simple question, but the look in the woman's eyes, burned brighter than any flames she could produce
"Fine," Marigold conceded "I will go with you. Just know I will kill you if you try anything"
"Understandable, child" Sheila nodded like it was a common occurrence to have a filthy lost girl threaten her with death.
The feeling of utter disbelief increased 10-fold when the elder nature witch ordered as she twisted the key in the ignition
"Seat belt"
YOU ARE READING
The Next Great Adventure
FanfictionMarigold Dorea Potter, fought valiantly and succeeded in killing the Monster who had a grip on her life ever since she was in her mother's womb. She did, and it was over. Everything. Was. Over. She felt sick to her stomach, it felt as if she was o...
