𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 (🪄) 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 ❝ there's no glory in taking the
easy path, only mediocrity. i'll take the thorns if it means i bloom brighter. ❞
RE-WRITTEN
harry potter and the philosopher's stone - the deathly h...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
HOW YOU GET THE GIRL ? 🩰 DRACO MALFOY ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 029. new year, new problemɞ˚‧｡⋆
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
Kimberly tossed restlessly in her sleep, her brow furrowed and her breathing uneven. The shadows in her dream shifted and coiled like living things, forming jagged, haunting shapes. They loomed over her, whispering indistinct words that felt sharp and cold. Fear gripped her chest, suffocating, as if the air itself had turned against her.
In the dream, she was standing in an unfamiliar, desolate place. The sky above her was bruised and stormy, and the ground beneath her feet was cracked and barren. A faint sound caught her attention—a child's voice, faint and trembling. "Help me..."
Kimberly turned, searching for the source of the voice. Her heart pounded as her eyes landed on a small figure sitting in the middle of the desolation. A little girl with tear-streaked cheeks and wide, frightened eyes. The child couldn't have been older than five.
Kimberly took a step forward, her instincts screaming to help. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice trembling as she approached. The girl didn't answer, only pointed behind Kimberly.
Kimberly froze, her blood running cold as she slowly turned. In the distance, she saw two figures crumpled on the ground—an older couple lying lifeless, their faces frozen in fear. She didn't need to get closer to know who they were.
They were—they were mine.
"No..." Kimberly whispered, her voice cracking. The screams from her memory echoed all around her now, piercing and agonized, blending with the wind that whipped through the barren landscape. Her hands shook as she turned back to the little girl, but the child was gone.
In her place stood Bellatrix Lestrange.
Bellatrix's wild hair framed her face like a dark halo, her smile sharp and merciless. She twirled her wand lazily in her fingers, her dark eyes locking onto Kimberly's. "You couldn't save them," Bellatrix purred, her voice dripping with mockery. "And you won't save him either."
Kimberly's heart stopped. "Him?"
But before she could ask, Bellatrix raised her wand. The ground beneath Kimberly's feet split open, the crack racing toward her with unnatural speed. She tried to run, but her legs felt as though they were trapped in quicksand. She stumbled, falling to her knees as the crack opened wider, threatening to swallow her whole.
Then she heard it—a voice, low and cold, cutting through the chaos. "Kimberly..."
She turned sharply, and there he was—Tom Riddle, standing at the edge of the destruction, his expression unreadable. "You can't run from your past," he said, his voice calm, almost soothing, yet laced with something sinister.
