Voldemort returns and is intent on revenge, preventing the prophecy from coming true and ensuring his reign over the wizarding world. But everything changes when he realizes the girl who lived, his ultimate nemesis...is actually a Horcrux...
Voldemo...
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The hospital wing was bathed in an ethereal glow as Hadria stirred from her restless slumber. The darkness that had enveloped her dreams now surrendered to blinding white light. Squinting against the brilliance, she gradually opened her eyes. Morning had arrived, yet the remnants of her nightmare clung to her like a shadow.
Her shoulder throbbed, a persistent ache that defied the boundary between dream and reality. Pulling down her shirt, she revealed the source of her discomfort...a bite mark etched into her skin. This was no mere figment of her imagination; it was a tangible wound, as if sharp teeth had punctured her flesh.
As footsteps approached, Hadria hastily adjusted her shirt to conceal the evidence. Ron and Hermione entered, their expressions a mix of relief and concern. Hermione settled onto the bed beside her, enfolding Hadria in a wordless hug. Tears welled up, and the two girls shared a silent understanding...the aftermath of Cedric's death and Voldemort's return weighed heavily upon them.
Ron's hand landed on Hadria's shoulder, and she clenched her jaw to mask the pain. "You alright?" he asked, genuine worry etching his features.
Hadria managed a small smile, grateful when Ron finally withdrew his touch. "I'm working on it," she replied honestly, her voice carrying both determination and vulnerability.
Hermione's anger flared. "Dumbledore addressed the entire school this morning," she said, her grip on Hadria's knee seeking solace. "He revealed what truly transpired in the graveyard....the loss of Cedric, Voldemort's resurgence. But the Ministry...they're cowards, denying the truth."
Hadria nodded, her gaze dropping to the nightstand where gifts and floral arrangements adorned the sterile space. The weight of destiny pressed upon her. "They'll have to face reality eventually," she murmured.
Hermione's tearful eyes mirrored the weight of their shared burden. "Everything will be different now, won't it?" she whispered, her voice fragile.
Hadria drew in a deep breath, her gaze shifting between Ron and Hermione. With a subtle nod, she clasped Hermione's hand in hers. "I'm afraid it will," Hadria replied softly. "But we still have each other, and Dumbledore is working tirelessly. Hogwarts remains a sanctuary...for now."
Hermione sniffled, wiping her eyes. "Thank Merlin for that," she murmured, seeking solace in their fragile camaraderie.
***
Released from the hospital wing that day, Hadria moved through the final days of school in a haze. She avoided crowded spaces, unwilling to face the questions and sympathetic glances. Instead, she sought refuge with Ron and Hermione, their silent companionship a balm for wounded souls.
Returning to her aunt and uncle's house for the summer held no joy. Hogwarts was her true home, and as she bid farewell to friends at King's Cross Station, promises of letters exchanged, she clung to the memories of magic and camaraderie.
In the quiet of the taxi ride, Hadria lowered her gaze to the lingering bite mark on her shoulder. It healed slowly, defying normalcy, yet the pain had subsided. No more "dreams" had visited her since that fateful night, but she sensed a shift...a gathering storm on the horizon.
The Dursleys' reception remained cool, though a begrudging respect had settled over their interactions. It wasn't warmth, but it was something.
Petunia's unexpected act of dusting Hadria's room spoke volumes. The vase of flowers and the small, unsigned sympathy card on her nightstand conveyed a message even the Dursleys couldn't ignore...the weight of a student's death, even if that student happened to be a wizard.
Hadria settled onto her bed, her guitar cradled in her arms. Music had always been her refuge, a language for emotions too complex to express in mere words. Years ago, she had scrimped and saved to buy this guitar, envisioning how its strings would resonate with her feelings. Singing in the privacy of the shower had been her initial outlet, but eventually, she yearned for more. An instrument seemed like the perfect companion...one she could carry between school and home.
The old piano in the living room eventually beckoned to her, and Petunia, surprisingly, had granted permission. Basic lessons from her aunt had blossomed into self-taught mastery. Hadria's fingers danced across the keys, revealing a hidden talent. Petunia never voiced approval, but her softened gaze spoke volumes. She even tolerated Hadria's occasional singing, a silent acknowledgment of their shared secret.
Now, as an of-age witch, Hadria wielded magic beyond Hogwarts. With a quick Muffliato charm, she silenced the room, allowing her music to fill the space.
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https://youtu.be/ktnOsnWut4o?si=I6sQAMecCAhBQOpX
When you were here before Couldn't look you in the eye You're just like an angel Your skin makes me cry You float like a feather In a beautiful world I wish I was special You're so very special But I'm a creep I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here I don't care if it hurts I wanna have control I want a perfect body I want a perfect soul I want you to notice When I'm not around So very special I wish I was special But I'm a creep I'm a weirdo What the hell am I doin' here? I don't belong here He's running out again He's running out again Whatever makes you happy Whatever you want You're so very special I wish I was special...
She let the weight of the guitar settle in her lap as she wiped the tears from her face.
***
She went to bed early that night, desperate to escape the maelstrom of emotions swirling within her. Tossing and turning, she wrestled with tangled thoughts, each twist of the sheets a futile attempt to find solace. The moon cast a silvery glow through her window, illuminating her restlessness.
With a resigned sigh, she surrendered to the sleepless night. Her back pressed against the cool sheets, eyes wide open in frustration. But as her gaze swept the unfamiliar surroundings, panic surged. This wasn't her room; this wasn't her world. Reality had shifted, and she was no longer where she belonged.
