𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝑶𝑩𝑳𝑰𝑽𝑰𝑨𝑻𝑬 ─ 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝒙 𝒐𝒄

𝐆𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐝𝐞

⭒๋⭑

I'm taking yall in again, aren't I? Dear me! I shall have to start cutting back on this to avoid spoiling the children rotten.

This chapter, secretly not so secretly, is of great importance. Everything mentioned from the past, let it be known from this moment, will return.

The flashbacks will not be mere memories. They tell an entire story. So, pay attention to the details because nothing is by chance.

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The morning flew by in the blink of an eye: breakfast, bidding Andromeda farewell as her schedule begins and ends before mine, a good while spent hanging about the library staircase selecting books, and then the chaos of Muggle London en route to St. Mungo’s.

I can hardly believe I’m actually doing this. Andromeda can’t either. Neither of us can. It’s utter madness. But then again, we’ve never been quite right in the head. That’s why we joined the Order so many years ago.

The spirit of rebellion. The refusal to accept the injustices of our world.

Here I am, sauntering through the halls of St. Mungo's with a deceptive calm, as if I weren’t carting around an entire library hidden in my bag, ready to unveil the mysteries of the magical world to a child who can scarcely tell a Muggle ferret from a Jarvey.

My steps are firm and falsely confident as I proceed unwaveringly straight to the lift, just a nod to Gigi, a blonde, diminutive, and stout woman with a brilliantly bright smile. She’s the receptionist, and always offers me chocolates, though I've never indulged. Andromeda tends to toss any gift another woman gives me directly into the fireplace.

It’s not uncommon. Poetry cards occasionally appear on my desk. Or red roses with the thorns meticulously removed so as not to hurt me. And all manner of love declarations. Perhaps Andromeda is a bit possessive. But it’s a genuine precaution.

I had a stalker during my Hogwarts years. Never knew who it was, but terrifying things happened. Felt followed through the corridors, watched even during classes and Quidditch practice. It was so bad that to this day I can’t walk normally without looking back every now and then, just to make sure I’m not being followed.

Moreover, Bellatrix hasn’t been helping. Especially after the time she tried to use a love potion on me. It was a poor taste joke and resulted in an intense fight involving porcelain, jugs, knives, and anything else within Andromeda’s reach flying dangerously fast towards Bella.

Snapping out of my reverie, I dash for the lift as I see the double doors beginning to close, my heels clacking against the polished marble floor with each step. "Hold the lift, please!" I exclaim, quickening my pace. And when I finally make it, my smile immediately evaporates just as the thank-you I was about to express.

"Ah, had I known it was you, I wouldn’t have bothered," says a rough, mocking voice.

I deeply thank my late mother for all those absurd etiquette lessons I had to endure, because as soon as I realize the person in the lift is none other than Narcissa Black, I feel an immense urge to tell her to bugger off.

"Potter," greeted Narcissa, pressing the button for the fifth floor.

"Black."

The silence is tangible, almost deafening, the damn lift floor indicator moving torturously slow. And to my dismay, Narcissa begins to do that annoying thing she always does: clicking her bloody tongue against the roof of her mouth repeatedly.