Second Chance || Harry Potter x Reader

The Darkest Threads | ˚₊✩‧₊

3rd POV
。ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈·ﾟ。

The room was dark, a vast emptiness that stretched endlessly in all directions, its boundaries lost to the shadows. Silence hung in the air, oppressive and heavy. Somewhere deep within this abyss, a figure moved with quiet purpose, his robes whispering against the cold, stone floor as he walked.

The figure paused, his breath slowing as he reached out with his mind, the faint tendrils of magic still clinging to him from his latest intrusion. A smile crept across his lips, a cruel twist of satisfaction. He had found what he sought—a connection, frail and fractured, but enough to bind him to her.

He had sensed her fear, tasted it as he'd seeped into the corners of her mind. It had been years since he had first laid the foundations of his control over her, a mere child then, bound to him by magic far older than she understood. And now, she believed she had escaped.

How laughable.

The darkness around him swirled, his presence commanding the very shadows to obey. His long fingers curled at his sides as he breathed in the lingering traces of her consciousness. She had fought against him, pushed him away with a defiant strength that almost surprised him. Almost. But he was not one to be easily deterred.

"She will come to me," he hissed, his voice low and almost serpentine in its cadence. His words echoed in the cavernous room, returning to him like a whisper from the shadows themselves.

He resumed his pacing, each step deliberate and precise, his movements sharp as he envisioned the fear that gripped her. He had felt it the previous night—her terror when the stars blinked out and the darkness embraced her. How desperately she had tried to escape his voice, the way it had wrapped around her mind, constricting her will. It had been intoxicating.

And yet, there had been resistance. A glimmer of strength that he had not expected. It annoyed him, gnawed at the edges of his patience. She had protection—pathetic, temporary spells woven by children who thought they could stand against him. The mere thought of it sent a surge of anger through him, and the shadows around him pulsed, deepening in response to his ire.

Fools, he thought, his lips curling into a sneer. Did they truly believe they could sever the bond he had placed on her? Did they not understand that she was his, bound by an oath that not even the most ancient magic could easily break?

He stopped again, turning his head slightly as if listening to something only he could hear. His mind stretched out, searching, probing for the connection once more. For a moment, he sensed it—a flicker of warmth, of light—before it slipped away like water through his fingers. She was hiding, retreating behind the barriers that her friends had constructed around her. But it didn't matter. He would find her again. And when he did, she would bend to his will.

A cold laugh echoed through the chamber, the sound chilling and hollow. The darkness tightened around him, responding to his amusement as he drew himself up, his form growing more menacing in the black void.

"Let them try," he muttered, his voice a sinister whisper. "Let them hope."

His eyes gleamed with a malevolent light, reflecting the twisted pleasure he found in their struggle. He had already begun to plant the seeds of doubt, to make her question the safety she thought she had found. He knew fear, understood how it burrowed into the soul and grew, corrupting the mind from within. And once fear took root, it was only a matter of time before it blossomed into despair.

He began to move again, his footsteps silent, the air around him growing colder with each passing second. His hand reached out into the darkness, fingers splayed as if grasping for something unseen. He closed his eyes, focusing, his mind reaching through the shadows to find her.