Avada Kedavra. The most unforgivable of the curses. The merit of immediate death. Permanent darkness. Cease of existence. Death. Murder.
And my own brother has bestowed this upon me. My fate written out. No goodbyes. No truth for Lorenzo or Theodore, or Draco. Nor Eleria.
As I stand there, the curse coming at me, I just see her. Ginger hair cascading down onto freckle spotted skin. Blue eyes that look like a snowstorm. The smile that acts bot sarcastic and real.
Then I duck. The curse flies above my head and hits that wall behind my vacated position.
"You little -"
Two words are all my brother's granted before I hit him with my own death warrant.
something wet slides down my check. The salty taste sliding into my mouth and scars. Tears. Incompetent things that I should know better than to waste. But still, as I watch my brothers body fall, shock still rendered on his face, they fall.
A woman's cry brings me back. My mother, the dark curls which I inherited, stands wielding a dagger. Then, just as she has done so my times before, she throws it.
I reach for Theodore and begin to appirate, just as the blade makes contact.
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...
