Tainted Memories | R.B

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠. (𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞)

─── 𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒

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𝐃𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐌𝐜𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭, 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫-𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐞 𝟏𝟒𝐭𝐡—just as the first golden threads of dawn began to stretch their fingers across the sky. The world outside still slumbered beneath its blanket of night, but inside the whitewashed walls of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, two hearts beat a little faster.

Mr. and Mrs. McKinnon sat side by side, bleary-eyed but bright with joy, as they welcomed their youngest daughter into the world. The moment was still, sacred—untouched by time or sound. Dalia did not enter crying. She arrived with her eyes wide open, her gaze steady and solemn, as though she had already seen a glimpse of the path ahead. A child not born of chaos, but of clarity. A soul who knew, even then, that she was meant for something more.

~ ⚯͛ ~

The second daughter of the McKinnon family, Dalia was, from the very beginning, the quieter flame.

Where Marlene, her older sister, blazed with the fury of a wildfire—bold, unfiltered, impossibly brave—Dalia was the ember. She burned slowly, steadily, with a kind of quiet intensity that asked for no attention but drew it all the same.

She didn't inherit their mother's golden-haired radiance or Marlene's fierce charisma. Her beauty was subtler, sharper. Her eyes were a green so deep they often appeared black in low light, like forest shadows at midnight. Her auburn hair cascaded in soft, thoughtful waves, and her features—refined and almost too precise—spoke more of her father's ancient bloodline than her mother's warmth.

Some said she was the image of her Aunt Maeve—once a paragon of pureblood perfection, sculpted to fit the rigid mold of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. But Dalia's father had chosen a different future. He had broken tradition for love, not legacy. And in doing so, he rewrote the story his children would one day inherit.

~ ⚯͛ ~

At eleven, the Sorting Hat barely brushed her head before calling Ravenclaw. It made sense. Dalia's mind was sharp, her curiosity relentless, her silence often louder than most people's noise. And yet, deep down, she'd wondered if the Hat had considered Slytherin—if it had seen the quiet ambition curling around her heart like smoke. She would never know. But she didn't dwell on what-ifs.

There was too much to do.

By her third year, she had earned a spot on the Quidditch team, her broomstick an extension of her will. By fourth year, she was top of her class. Her academic record became a patchwork of excellence, stitched together with sleepless nights and unwavering focus. But all of it—every mark, every win—meant little without the two people who came to define her Hogwarts years.

Valerie Smith and Ivy Lockwood.

Valerie, with her copper hair and honey-rich laughter, was kindness made real. She had the gentle spirit of a Hufflepuff and the mind of a philosopher. Books trailed in her wake like petals. Ivy, by contrast, was a storm in human form—loud, quick-witted, brimming with mischief and bold ideas. She could've been a Gryffindor, or even a Slytherin, but somehow Ravenclaw claimed her too.

Together, the three were a perfect imbalance—each one filling the cracks in the others, binding themselves not through similarity, but through love.

~ ⚯͛ ~

Marlene McKinnon, Dalia's elder by ten months and a lifetime of differences, was the very spirit of Gryffindor. Fearless, impetuous, loyal to a fault. Where Marlene sought chaos, Dalia craved calm. Where one charged forward, the other stood back to think. Their bond was not one of constant closeness, but of understanding—like opposite stars locked in the same orbit.

But beneath Dalia's composed surface, there pulsed a silent hunger: for more than grades, more than house pride, more than the hollow routine of student life. She ached for meaning. For something that would set her blood alight. For a story that was truly her own.

Because sometimes, hope isn't loud. Sometimes it whispers. And sometimes, it waits until the moment you need it most before it finally answers.

~ ⚯͛ ~

Dalia McKinnon was never meant to be just a name in the margins.

She is not only the younger sister of a Gryffindor or the clever girl with ink-stained hands in the back of the library. She is not a footnote. She is the fire you don't see until it burns, the spell whispered beneath your breath, the quiet girl who learned how to survive the impossible.

She has been both the heroine and the villain of her own tale. She has known the kind of love that heals and the kind of grief that maims. She has been broken, but she never stayed shattered.

Dalia McKinnon is the girl who learned how to wield pain like a wand—precise, powerful, and always with purpose. She knows how to destroy. But she chooses to preserve.

And now, her story is yours to follow.

Her memories are your ink. Her courage is your compass. Her heart—steady, stubborn, and quietly defiant—will guide you.

Because Dalia McKinnon is not the brightest star in the sky.

She is the sky itself.

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────── 𝑨𝑼𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑺 𝑴𝑬𝑺𝑺𝑨𝑮𝑬,

Ok, I actually kinda don't hate this as much now that I've edited this but it's the best your getting out of me. I mean this is the prologue which is basically providing a vague idea of Dalia and her story.

 I can't wait to start the first chapter of the story and please tell me what you think and I hope you enjoy!!

Also i'm gonna start including mini questions at the end of some chapters within the authors message cause I think it would be fun so...

What relationship's would you maybe like to see throughout the book?

Much Love E