╰┈➤〝you drew stars around my scars〞☽ ✭
genesis harrison is going back to hogwarts, despite her protests. upset by her mothers recent passing, the last place she wanted to be was anywhere but home. and when she's shipped off to the school of witchcra...
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⤑‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡
Genesis sat in her room, fuming with anger. An empty trunk sat at the end of her bed, and a pile of clothes, once neatly folded, were now sprawled across her sheets.
She was supposed to be packing for Hogwarts, but she was too angry. She looked at her mess of a bed helplessly. Exhaling, she fell into her blankets, pressing her palms to her forehead. She squeezed her eyes shut as tight as she could. Maybe when she opened her eyes again there would be no open trunk, no untidy clothes speckling her bed.
Alas, when she opened her eyes, nothing had moved from its recent place. She tongues the side of her mouth and begins collecting and re-folding every article of clothing, and stacking it nicely again. She reached out to grab one last pair of trousers that had been entangled in the mess of her blankets. She held them up to start folding them, but found herself caught. Her mother had bought her that pair of jeans last year, for the new school year. Genesis let her arms drop to her sides, but grasped the pants tightly.
She knew her mother wouldn't of wanted her crying over a pair of jeans, or about having to go back to school, but Genesis could barely help herself. She wanted to make her mum proud, but at the same time she wanted to curl into a tight ball and isolate herself from all of humanity. Her worst fear was arriving to the train station and as soon as she stepped onto the platform, uncontrollably bawling her eyes out.
Her mother, Daya Harrison, was her biggest supporter by far. She'd passed away in early summer, only a few months earlier. She was an potioneer and her life was lost due to side affects and complications of an attempt of a potion that would give one immunity to unforgivable curses. Genesis had just finished her fourth year at Hogwarts when she'd been informed. At first she thought she was dreaming, and when the realization set in, she didn't even break down.
She couldn't even do anything. Immediately after she'd arrived home from the train, she was told. She was a storm of emotions, and she didn't know why she couldn't express them. She was angry and grieving at the same time. She didn't want to return to Hogwarts because she was afraid to unravel there and be unable to pick up her pieces.
She gingerly placed the now folded pair of trousers onto the pile, blinking away tears before they could fall and officiate crying. Licking her lips, she picked up and placed that pile into her trunk, even though she swore to herself she wouldn't. Exhaling softly, she peeped out of her window once. The late afternoon sun flooded her room and made it a romantic warm.
"Okay." She whispered, reassuring herself that she was in fact 'okay.' Well, maybe she wasn't, but being in denial was better than being desolate. Nonetheless, she had to pull herself together. She couldn't go to school all a mess—she wouldn't let herself do that. She had a week. Which to someone who'd just gone through the greatest loss in the entirety of their life, it wasn't nearly enough time.
