Daughter of Black

6.14

Harry was convinced that Draco had cursed Katie Bell. I remembered her from the years we played quidditch together, but we weren't close. Despite that, I was a little surprised about Draco. I knew that he would do anything to impress his father, but I was beginning to believe that he was being initiated into becoming a death eater. He was never my favorite cousin, he was never a sweet kid, but there have been moments, where I thought maybe he would or could be more, be better. There was something about Draco that was... broken. I had always wished that he was going to be more of his mother's son, but his father's manipulative hand was more controlling. I couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness for Draco. He was a product of his upbringing, molded by the influences of his parents and the toxic environment of Slytherin House. His mother, Narcissa, had shown glimpses of compassion and concern, but it was clear that Lucius Malfoy's manipulative grip held sway over Draco's choices.

As for Voldemort... Harry had told me that he created something called a horcrux. Not just 1, but 7. The most powerfully magical number. These objects can be anything, the most commonplace of objects. One of these objects we had seen before. It was Tom Riddle's diary from Harry's second year, the one in the chamber. The other object was a ring. It belonged to Tom Riddle's mother. All of these objects needed to be destroyed. Harry was telling me that if they, if we, destroy every single object, it would destroy Voldemort.

But they were just objects. Any random object that Voldemort could have chosen. They could be hidden anywhere. But dark magic leaves traces. Dumbledore thought that he found another, but he couldn't destroy it alone. He needed Harry with him. I wasn't comfortable with the idea, scared of losing the last bit of family that I had.

♡☽

It was dark and I felt myself being pulled under the water. The eerie silence of failing arms. I shake free again and again, but there are too many hands, too many haunted faces. I stayed under for a long time, feeling my lungs burning. My eyes lose focus, turning blank. A bubble trail leaves my mouth as my body goes slack. I sink deeper, in free fall, taking one last look at the simmering surface above. The last thing I will see if I die here. The surface sizzles with red light, like blood, then becomes transparent. I break free of the surface, spitting up water, gasping for air. I sat on the shore, staring at the water that almost consumed me. "Mira..." A voice malls me from the water. Staring shakily, I get on my hands and knees, staring into the watery abyss. As I stared into the water, I saw the face of my father. "Come Mira." I felt my hand graze the water and it was like nothing was stopping me from sinking into the dark, murky water.

"Mira?" Another voice calls out, his tone questioning. "Don't go... stay..." George's hand touched my shoulder tightly, pulling me away from the water. I screamed, wanting to go towards the water.

"Let me go! Let me go!" I screamed. I could feel my body thrashing around.

"Mira?" I felt hands on my shoulders. "Mira, wake up." My eyes shot open, seeing George towering above me, his face full of concern. His voice was urgent, his hands gently shaking my shoulders. The remnants of the nightmare still lingered on my mind. I blinked rapidly, trying to focus on George's worried face hovering above me. The room was dimly lit by the dying embers of the fire, casting shadows that danced across the walls.

"George," I whispered, my voice hoarse from the nightmare. I reached out and grasped his hand, seeking comfort in his touch. George's expression softened as he laid back down beside me, his arms wrapping around my shoulders.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asked softly into my ear, kissing my hair. I shook my head, closing my eyes. But the only thing I saw when my eyes were shut were remnants of the nightmare. George's grip on me tightened, as if he could shield me from the lingering fear. "You're safe now," he reassured me, his voice gentle and soothing. "It was just a bad dream. I'm here." I leaned into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The nightmare was fading, replaced by the comfort of being in George's arms.

"Thank you, George," I whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

George smiled softly, his eyes filled with love and concern. "You'll never have to find out," he replied, pulling me closer. "I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

We were about to fall back asleep, when there was a knock at our door. We both knew it was Fred, but it wasn't like him to come knocking in the middle of the night. "Fred?" George asked, letting him inside. Fred looked a mess, a concerned look on his face as I made my way to the kitchen, turning a light on. Fred looked pale.

"What's wrong Freddie?" I asked, putting my hand on his shoulder. Fred looked at both of us, scared.

"I got a floo from mum..." Both George and I looked at each other, bracing ourselves for the bad news that Fred was inevitably going to share. "It's Dumbledore. He was murdered... by Snape."