March 31st, 2004 - the birth of Y/N Crimson.
Two years before the First Wizarding War (1995-2006) ended, the newlyweds - Caspian and Amaryllis - welcomed a beautiful baby girl into the world. A blessing from God himself accorded upon the good Brit...
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Hermione barely had time to react before Y/N caught her by the sleeve and pulled her down. They ducked beneath the remaining section of the sink as the troll lumbered farther into the bathroom, its attention fixed on the two boys in the corridor. Harry had backed away, keeping just far enough from the creature to avoid the reach of its club, while Ron stood a few feet behind him with the broken piece of porcelain still clutched in his hand.
When the troll swung, Harry threw himself aside. The club struck the wall where he had been standing, sending another shower of stone across the floor. Ron shouted something Y/N couldn't make out over the noise, and Harry scrambled back to his feet, waving frantically for him to move.
Y/N pressed herself against the underside of the sink, one hand braced against the cold stone while Hermione crouched beside her. Her headache had become a distant, almost irrelevant sensation beneath the pounding of her heart. Every instinct told her to get out, but there was nowhere to go. The troll blocked the entrance, partially destroyed the stalls, and she still had her wand sitting in her dormitory several floors away.
Y/N glanced at Hermione. The girl had both hands pressed over her mouth, her eyes fixed on Harry and Ron. Y/N could practically see the questions running through her head: why had they come back, why weren't they running, and how were four first-years supposed to deal with a mountain of muscle carrying a club?
Y/N flinched as the sink above them rattled. "Stay here."
Hermione looked at her, then opened her mouth — probably to dissuade her. Y/N didn't give her the opportunity. She shuffled out from beneath the sink before Hermione could utter a word, keeping low as another swing sent Harry stumbling backward. For a moment, she had a clear view of the troll's back.
Y/N took the chance. As if on instinct — or maybe familiarity she had buried years ago — her palm shot out, pressing down on the green skin, which began to sizzle and smoke underneath her touch.
On cue, the bracelet that had practically shackled her for weeks gave a sharp, metallic crack. Y/N felt it before she heard it. The dark red stone set into the phoenix charm flashed once against the bathroom's dim light. Something inside the silver band seemed to pull taut beneath her skin, as though the bracelet had been holding itself together all this time.
A thin fracture ran through the silver, splitting the band beneath her wrist. The next instant, it broke. The pieces fell against the stone floor with a small, almost insignificant clatter, completely drowned out by the troll's cry.
Y/N's hand still pressed against its back; her eyes flicked to the floor once before she glanced away again. Heat spread through her palm and into her arm, sudden enough to make her jerk. The troll recoiled, twisting its enormous shoulders as it tried to see what had burned it. Smoke curled from beneath Y/N's hand, thin and grey, disappearing into the dust hanging in the air.
