The sun beats hard against the grounds. The trees borderline the lakes edge. Reeds and swallows sit at the surface. Ripples, currents, and tides. Clam water turning into rapids. Creatures, heard not seen, thrive below. Perfect harmony with the land.
Draco and I sit underneath a large oak tree. Theodore and Lorenzo are throwing a quaffle to each other, practicing for the game next Saturday.
Despite all of us acting in one way or another, there is no sound. The tranquillity of it all is calming and peaceful.
Ever since Eleria's warning, I have been watching my brother carefully. So, the quiet is nice. Not needing to worry or pursue anything.
Just me in my thoughts.
Mindlessly, I trace the scar that runs down the right side of my face.
Happiness is just the absence of pain.
The seven wors that I live by. The seven words that sum up my life. The youngest Riddle boy. The scorn of the family.
Worthless in my Mother and Father's eyes. Most likely my brother's too. The bastards they are.
No one knows what I draw or write. The images of pain. The words of aching hearts.
Faces fly through my mind. Family, friends, foes. The girl with pale skin, flowing red hair, pale blue eyes, and freckles.
YOU ARE READING
The Weasel's Riddle
FantasyEleria Weasley joins Hogwarts in her Fifth Year instead of her First. For five years Eleria fought a sickness that should have killed her, but instead she won over it. When she arrives at Hogwarts, she is sorted into Slytherin unlike all of her fami...
