Alina Nightshade doesn't think much about James Potter. Only that he seems rather keen on being annoying.
James Potter thinks Alina Nightshade is a mystery all wrapped up in a very pretty girl. And he is keen on trying to be her friend.
James Potte...
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"Avada Kedavra!" The curse echoes through the emptiness of the house, slicing through the air like a blade.
But a scream still breaks through, piercing the silence—a desperate wail of a sister trying to shield her siblings from the monster at their door.
Alina steps cautiously into the darkened hallway, her breaths shallow as she takes in the scene unfolding before her.
It's another vision, and from the heavy tension in the air, it's clear that death is the main event—again.
Death Eaters loom in the doorway, their presence a shadow of dread. Only three of them stand there, but their menace is suffocating. Alina's eyes flick to the small sofa at the far end of the room, where four figures cower. The eldest is a girl, desperately trying to shield her three younger siblings with her own body, trembling as she whispers frantic prayers to a God who seems deaf to her pleas.
Alina can feel the fear radiating off them, raw and suffocating. She hasn't experienced a vision this intense in a long time.
"Avada Kedavra!" The Death Eater in the silver mask snarls, the green light of the curse illuminating his cruel eyes.
This time, the spell finds its mark.
Alina jolts upright in her bed, her heart hammering against her ribs. It's as though her heart is trying to break free from her chest, to escape the torment that is her mind.
Her nails dig painfully into her palms, grounding her in the harsh reality of her body as she fights for breath, each gasp ragged and sharp.
She's fine. She has to be.
It's just death.
Death is inevitable, a fate that awaits everyone, even her. A constant companion.
She squeezes her eyes shut, but only for a moment, before forcing them open and stumbling out of bed. She heads straight to her private bathroom, twisting the shower knob until icy water sprays down, the coldness biting at her skin. Maybe it will shock the vision away, numb the lingering dread.
Once done, she moves quickly, dressing with mechanical precision, as if her routine can piece her back together. At least she hasn't woken up much earlier than usual; her alarm would have gone off any minute.
Alina can't stomach the thought of breakfast. So she bypasses the Great Hall entirely when she leaves her common room.
Instead, she slips outside, hoping the cool morning air will offer some relief. The morning sun glares down, harsh and uninviting. She scowls up at the sky—why does it have to be so fucking bright?
Her breaths fog in the crisp morning air as she walks across the castle grounds, the grass still damp with dew and a sharp frost clinging to the breeze.
