The Crimson Haunting - D.M

Chapter 2

16 years later

I woke up to the faint light filtering through the small, barred window of my room. The cold stone walls were as familiar to me as my own reflection—unforgiving and unchanging. I stretched, feeling the stiffness in my limbs from another restless night, and dressed quickly in my simple robes. Today, however, there was an uneasy feeling in the air.

I walked to the small dining area where Nelfa and the other servant elves were already bustling about. The air smelled of porridge, eggs, and freshly baked bread, a comfort I had grown accustomed to over the years.

"Good morning, Miss Beatrice," Nelfa greeted me with her usual kind smile, but today, there was a deeper sadness in her eyes.

"Good morning, Nelfa," I replied, taking my seat. As I ate, I noticed the elves exchanging worried glances. They had always been my caretakers, and their concern was palpable this morning.

My breakfast was simple but satisfying—warm porridge drizzled with honey, a boiled egg, and a slice of bread slathered with butter. I savored each bite, knowing that these small comforts were a rare reprieve from the harshness of my reality. I was rarely allowed to leave my room, and when I did, it was always under the watchful eyes of the elves. The castle, though vast, was a cage, and I was its prisoner.

After breakfast, I made my way to the library. The towering shelves filled with ancient tomes on dark magic were both a source of power and a haunting reminder of my captivity. I picked up a thick, leather-bound book and began my practice. Dark tendrils of magic flowed from my wand, wrapping around objects and performing complex spells with ease. My proficiency had grown over the years, but so had the toll it took on my psyche. I could feel the darkness seeping into my soul, threatening to consume me.

Hours passed as I immersed myself in the dark arts, the spells becoming more intricate and the power more intoxicating. But today, my concentration was broken by Nelfa and the other elves entering the library, their expressions more somber than usual.

"Nelfa, what is it?" I asked, my voice tinged with concern.

Nelfa took a deep breath, her large eyes filled with sorrow. "Miss Beatrice, it is time we tell you the full truth about your past."

My heart pounded in my chest. I had always known that my life here was shrouded in mystery, that there were things the elves hadn't told me. The stories they had shared about my parents were always filled with bravery and love, but I sensed there was more.

Nelfa began, her voice steady but filled with emotion. "You were brought here as a baby, after your parents were murdered by Antonin Dolohov. He kidnapped you and brought you to this castle, intending to use you as a pawn in his game. He planned to sell you for ransom, ensuring he could afford a life of comfort when he got back from Azkaban."

My breath caught. I had always known Dolohov was responsible for my captivity, but hearing the details was still a shock.

"Your parents, Marlene and Gideon, were brave and kind. They fought against the dark forces, and they died protecting you," Nelfa continued. "We have told you stories about their bravery and love to keep their memory alive in your heart."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I listened. The elves had always been my caretakers, but now I realized they had been protectors of my parents' legacy as well.

Nelfa handed me an old, yellowed newspaper. My hands trembled as I took it, unfolding the brittle pages. The headline read, "Tragic Loss: Marlene McKinnon and Gideon Prewett Murdered by Death Eaters." Beneath the headline was a photograph—a remembrance photo of my mother, Marlene McKinnon; my father, Gideon Prewett; his twin brother, Fabian Prewett; and me as a baby.

I stared at the photograph, my vision blurring with tears. My mother's kind eyes, my father's strong, reassuring smile, and my uncle's playful grin were captured forever in the moving image. Seeing them together, seeing myself as a baby, brought a wave of emotion crashing over me.

"They were wonderful people, Miss Beatrice," Nelfa said softly. "And they would be so proud of you."

I wiped away my tears and looked up at Nelfa. "Why would you let me practice dark magic if it's what killed my parents?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

Nelfa sighed. "We are unarmed, Miss Beatrice. Your magic is our only defense. We allowed you to practice to protect us in case of intruders. Dolohov taught you dark magic, but you have surpassed even his expectations."

I nodded, understanding the necessity but feeling the weight of the darkness I had embraced. The magic had given me power, but it had also taken a toll on my sanity. I could feel the sadistic tendencies creeping in, a byproduct of my prolonged exposure to the dark arts.

"We have heard rumors that Dolohov may escape from Azkaban," Nelfa said, her voice filled with worry. "If he returns, we must be prepared."

My resolve hardened. "I will protect us," I vowed. "Even if it means using the dark arts I have learned."

As the day drew to a close, I stood by the window, clutching the newspaper and staring out into the darkening sky. The air was tense, the hint of an impending storm—both literal and metaphorical—looming on the horizon. I knew that my journey was only beginning, and that the challenges ahead would test me in ways I couldn't yet imagine.

But I was determined to honor my parents' legacy, protect the elves who had cared for me, and navigate the darkness within me. No matter the cost.

The storm was coming, and I would be ready.