𝑬𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑳 || 𝘋𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘰 𝘔𝘢𝘭𝘧𝘰𝘺 𝘹 𝘺/𝘯'•°

𝐹𝑖𝑓𝑡𝑦-𝐹𝑖𝑣𝑒

°~𝑶𝒏 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑯𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝑶𝒇 𝑻𝒊𝒎𝒆~°

My body throbs, a pulsing ache radiating through me, and my chest tightens like flames licking at me after the shot. I wake up, disoriented and unconscious, while a ringing bleeds in my ears. The frigid air rushing through the window, it does little to ease the discomfort; it only intensifies the chill seeping into my bones.

Struggling against the restraints of my hands and legs locked tight to an armchair-I can barely twist my head to get a sense of my surroundings. I mustered the will to lift my eyelids, but the effort sends a jolt of pain through my body, and I grit my teeth, trying to swallow the fear threatening to bubble over.

Shadows cutting across the cobblestone walls like veins of darkness. In front of me stands a figure-a dirty, self-proclaimed professor whose very essence feels wrong, twisted. He leans back in his chair, surveying me with a mix of triumph and disdain that crawls beneath my skin.

"You were always trouble," he hisses . "You almost made me lose my identity because of your impertinence." He spreads his arms wide, relishing the moment as though proclaiming some grand victory. "Now that I have you in one place... my plan will work."

"Pl...an...?" I force the words out, each syllable like sandpaper coating my throat.

His eyes glimmer with malevolence. "The Dark Lord will arise once Potter touches the trophy... and he'll finally be dead."

"You-won't-get away... with this..." I gasp, hyperventilating as the pain constricts my chest.

"And who will stop me?" he sneers, leaning closer and his breath rancid "You have your hands tied..."

"But not my... powers," gritting my teeth to steel myself against the unnatural weight pressing down on my magic. There's a familiar stirring within me, but it feels muted, suppressed by something I can't quite grasp.

"Tsk tsk," he mocks, shaking his head slowly. "No powers, better this way." His glance shifts to a crystal orb resting on below the chair It glows ominously, pulsating with a strange, dark energy. "Maybe this will teach you some manners for always interfering with my plans to kill Harry at every turn."

Rage ignites within me, and I try to shake free from my bonds, muscles straining against the restraints. "YOU!!!" The shout echoes in the room, reverberating through my bones.

His laughter is hollow and cruel and doesn't help one bit and then once I get myself out I will slid his throat. "Well, of course! Did you really think I'd let Potter's little sidekick stand in my way? Who do you think replaced Ron for dear Draco? That dragon... his name?"

I spit in his face, a small rebellion against the inevitable. "I hope you'll remember that..."

The satisfaction is fleeting. He wipes the spit away with a calculated calm, but then his hand swings, slapping the side of my face. The sting flares, deepening the pain that already infections everywhere across my body. I close my eyes; the world spins, mixing the darkness that beckons with the stark reality of my situation but I couldn't resist but look up and smile and scoff because no in hell is he going to win this easily .

'You're lucky you're not the one I'm after or else you'd be dead,' he sneered, turning on his heel. "But now I have a tournament to go to." He stormed toward the door.

"Snake! Come back here!" I shouted, futilely at him . The door slammed shut behind him, loudly in the hollow emptiness of the room.

I hung my head in defeat, staring at the floor, feeling the overwhelming weight of despair crash over me . Until, amidst the shadows of my captivity, I felt a stir in my hair. A small tug, gentle but persistent, coaxing me to look at my side.