Echos of Love

third year

Amara sat beneath her favorite tree, the leaves whispering softly above her, offering a brief escape from the world. Her sketchbook was open on her lap, the pencil in her hand moving absently across the page. Drawing was her way of letting go, a silent therapy for all the emotions she couldn't express.

A sudden rustling made her look up. Milo, the stray cat who'd been her companion for years, jumped down from a low branch and padded over to her. Amara smiled, setting her pencil aside to scratch behind his ears.

"Hey there, Milo," she greeted, her voice gentle. The cat purred, rubbing against her hand. Animals had always been a comfort to her, their simplicity a stark contrast to the complexities of her life. Milo had been around for as long as she could remember, appearing whenever she needed him most. It was almost as if he knew when she needed a friend.

For a moment, as she sat with Milo, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of them, the weight of her thoughts lightened by his presence. She nearly forgot about the storm that was surely brewing inside the house.

"Amara!" The shrill voice of Cecile shattered the peace.

Amara sighed, giving Milo one last pat before closing her sketchbook. "Gotta go, Milo. The old witch is calling." With reluctance, she stood and made her way back to the house, her steps heavy with the dread of what awaited her.

As soon as she stepped inside, she was met with the stern faces of Dominic and Cecile Levine. Her adoptive "parents". The air was thick with tension, the kind that made her stomach knot.

"We have a serious matter to discuss with you," Dominic began, his tone as cold as the room felt.

Amara crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly. "So, are we discussing it, or are we just going to stand here in awkward silence?"

Cecile's eyes narrowed. "Watch your mouth, Amara Black," she snapped, the use of her last name biting and deliberate.

Amara's lips twitched into a smirk. "Oh, we're using the full name now? Must be something really important."

Dominic stepped forward, his expression severe. "Your father, Sirius Black, broke out of Azkaban last night."

For a moment, Amara's heart stopped. Her father. The man she barely remembered but who haunted her thoughts nonetheless. "What? How? Why?" The questions tumbled out before she could stop them, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Dominic ignored her questions, continuing as if she hadn't spoken. "We thought it best you hear it from us rather than read it in the Daily Prophet."

Amara's brow furrowed in suspicion. "And? What's that got to do with me?"

Cecile folded her arms, her gaze cold and accusatory. "We're wondering if you had something to do with it. Perhaps you helped him escape?"

Amara stared at them in disbelief before a sarcastic laugh escaped her lips. "Oh, right. Because I, a thirteen-year-old girl, somehow managed to break into Azkaban and free my murderous father. Makes perfect sense. You guys should really get into writing fiction."

Dominic's eyes darkened, and his hand moved to his wand. "This is no joke, Amara."

"Neither is your ridiculous accusation," Amara shot back, her tone dripping with defiance. "But hey, if you think I'm capable of something like that, I guess I should be flattered."

The air crackled with tension, and for a moment, no one moved. Then, without warning, Dominic's wand was out, and the words left his lips with cruel precision. "Crucio."