❝ 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡, ❞
𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐏𝐒𝐎 𝐃𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐄 (𝐎𝐑 as most people know, calypso daniels) needed to flee england as soon as whispers of voldemort's return...
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A SEEMINGLY PERPETUAL overcast hung over the small town of forks, washington. it reflected the climate of england, which is maybe why i felt so okay standing on the front porch of my new house. it was small,—two bedrooms—painted a slightly off-white color, brown french doors on the front, with a turret that donned three windows on both floors.
my mom walked up behind me and placed her hand on my shoulder. "it's a little cold out here," she began with that same tone every comforting mother used, "why don't you go on inside instead of mindlessly staring at the architecture?" the joke at the end made small smiles come to our faces, but it wasn't the type of funny where you laugh.
she wouldn't be staying with me. no, my parents would be going on the opposite side of the globe—and i had no idea where. my father had no knowledge of my whereabouts either, but someone needed to be the person to know, and my mother with a mind of steel was the chosen one. she was the only person to know where the daniels family disappeared to.
being a dumbledore came with the good and the bad. my great-great-great grandpa and great-great-great uncle were alive and (somewhat) well, my family was full of powerful witches and wizards, my immediate family and i were being hunted down by voldemort and his deatheaters for various reasons, we tried our best to hide our true identities but inevitably the secret got out, and i couldn't live in blissful ignorance about the war. see? both the good and the bad.
i nodded at mom and she turned and walked back to the car. i stepped forward and twisted the handle of one of the doors, finding it locked. i didn't even use an incantation or my wand-i waved my hand and the lock clicked. i twisted the handle again and the door allowed me to swing it open. the lights were on, a rush of warm air hit me, and the air smelled of butterscotch. the atmosphere of the home was giving me a warm hug.
all of my stuff appeared behind me with a faint 'pop.' i turned around and saw mom walking inside. "the convenience of magic." she gestured to it all.
my shoulders slumped, my grip on everything in my hands (a potions book, my cd player, and a pair of cord headphones) lessening. "and now you have to go," i stated, an empty coldness surrounding my heart.
"i wish i could stay longer," she told me honestly, "but the more i stay the bigger of a magical mark i leave—and i can't mess up the trails we've already left." each person, when they used magic, left a residual aura behind, like how animals leave scents behind. ever since the night of the triwizard tournament, when cedric diggory died and harry potter fought voldemort, we began to create trails of our magic in order to lead the deatheaters away. we left them all over the globe, meaning we've been traveling for months, and now i get a moment to settle down.
severus found a way to mask my aura with a potion, but it took months to brew, thus my parents will keep going while i'll settle down in the one place we never visited. the middle of literal nowhere. i didn't mind it all too much, but i wished we could all be together, causing my dislike of the situation to reflect onto the place i'd be staying. yet, as the rolling stones said: you can't always get what you want.
