The Dark Dyad (Tom Riddle & ofc)

Chapter 7: Obstruction

"I almost lost my mind! Where have you been?!" Isabella was excited. She had the heebie-jeebies and paced the room, сasting a displeased glance at her daughter.

"Mom, it's okay, I just went for a walk."

"A walk? Are you serious?" Isabella grinned nervously. "If that strange girl were here, I'd think you'd run off to the cemetery to the family crypts again.... But she's not here, and we're not even in London!"

"Take it easy!" Daphne, sitting down at the table, unfolded the newspaper, which was full of terrible headlines.

"Please, understand me," Isabella breathed nervously. "I'm so worried! I don't want to lose you too..."

"Do you still think I could run to my father like Spencer?" Daphne gave her mother an indifferent look and began pouring tea. Isabella froze, remembering the horror of her recent experience. "I think they will create something amazing, like Nicolas Flamel. I heard that my father performed some kind of surgery to give my favorite brother eternal youth," Daphne's voice was filled with sarcasm and bitterness. "Except that magical society never recognizes squibs. No matter what he'd done."

Young Black tossed the newspaper onto the table. 'Anti-Muggle Reforms', 'Grindewald's Return to Germany,' 'Institute of Magic in Dortmund burned to the ground' - with each headline she became more and more convinced of the cruelty of the wizarding world, because her father had not chosen what kind of person he was born to be. The desire to know if she was on the family tree, or if her entire lineage, starting with her father, was destined to be simply burned out, echoed with an unpleasant tug somewhere in her chest.

"Mom, it's really okay." Daphne took a sip of green tea that reminded her of sly eyes. It had been so long since they'd seen each other! "I just went for a walk. I promise I'll let you know from now on."

​"At least until you're in Durmstrang. Your documents have been accepted, they are already waiting for you. You," Isabella bent down to Daphne's face, peering into the gray green eyes, "are a strong witch. You're talented, just like your father." Isabella smiled faintly and gently ran her fingers over her daughter's cheek. "We leave tomorrow."

​"All right, Mrs. Black!" Daphne smiled and grasped the small object in her dress pocket tightly. She had made a promise. And she would keep her word. ​

☽

"No," the thin voice pleaded, "you won't do that!"

"It's a mercy." The cold-blooded gaze of emerald eyes stabbed under the skin, under the bones ... deeper, to the very soul.

"Please..."

A huge fiery serpent soared into space. A side burned painfully. The stabbing torture forced to take a deep breath before jumping into space. Just without splits, please!

Irene inhaled sharply. A strangled wheeze burst out. She sat up, coughing loudly. There was not enough air. Looking around, she realized that there were several other beds nearby: some of them had students lying in them.

"Ah!" a woman's excited exclamation made Irene turn around. An unpleasant pain shot straight into the temple. "round!"

A pleasant woman in a long dress and a white medical apron hurriedly walked towards Irene. Waking up in an unfamiliar place was always bad. Waking up from nightmares was twice as bad.

"What's wrong?" Her voice was hoarse, as if Irene hadn't left the White Wyvern pub for a week and kept herself topped up.

"You fell down the stairs," Madam Besnard bustled about, levitating some jars and vials of tinctures, "last night."