Flames Of Destiny // HJP [1]

Chapter One : Angels and Strange Place˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

「 ✦ 01 ✦ 」

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🧚🏻₊˚ʚ 🪷 ₊˚

⋆˚࿔ (Y/N) 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

(𝖄/𝖓) couldn't believe it—she had died in the most embarrassingly cliché way imaginable: tumbling down the steps of a slide at the playground. 

Seriously, who dies in a situation like that?

She had days, maybe even weeks! left to live, but now here she was, dead because of something so stupid. 

Her internal thoughts were abruptly interrupted as voices reached her ears like distant echoes, muffled and indistinct. She struggled to piece together the fragments of sound, trying to make sense of the chaos enveloping her senses. Amidst the haze, a voice broke through, raw with panic and pleading.

"Why isn't she waking up yet, Dad? If she's only been stunned?" The voice was young, trembling on the brink of tears. 

It belonged to a boy, his words carrying a weight of fear that cut through the confusion surrounding her.

A deeper voice responded, tinged with concern and frustration. "I don't know, Ron. Are you really sure, Harry, that she's only been stunned?" This voice belonged to a man, steadier but with an edge of worry that mirrored the boy's distress.

Ron—Harry—these names floated around her like elusive whispers, stirring a sense of recognition that struggled to find clarity. She wanted to open her eyes, to see what was going on, to understand if she was in heaven already, but her body refused to obey.

Another voice, softer yet urgent, joined the conversation. "I'm not sure, Mr. Weasley. We were running, trying to find cover. Hermione and Ron—we lost them in the chaos. Then suddenly, a spell—someone threw it. I thought it was going to hit me, but (Y/n)—she pushed me aside, and then she got hit, fell and went limp and stiff..." 

Then the voice faltered, choked with emotion.

"Stiff?" asked the man, almost fearfully.

"Y-yes, Mr. Weasley, and I—"

"Did you see the colour of the spell that hit her?"

"N-no,"

A girl's voice, filled with fearful concern, interjected. "Oh no..."

The pieces didn't fit together in her mind, forming a puzzling picture of events that felt both unreal and immediate.

Spells?

Chaos?

Was this some kind of dream, or had she truly crossed into heaven?

Does heaven even have spells and chaos?

She thought it was peaceful—that's what her mum had told her and what all the books and films had depicted.

"I should have been fast enough to dodge, so she —"