That very same evening the horcrux was destroyed
Lyanna's POV
Silent tears dripped from my eyes onto the raw, swollen skin of my right forearm.
Each drop felt burned against the fresh mark, but the physical pain was nothing compared to what was happening inside my mind.
Voices floated around me like ghosts, but I couldn't focus on them.
My entire world had narrowed to the grotesque brand that now claimed my flesh.
The Dark Mark.
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It moved with terrible life, the serpent writhing through the skull's mouth as if mocking my defeat.
With each subtle movement, I felt something alien pulse through my veins — a darkness that wasn't mine, threading itself through my very being.
This wasn't just a mark.
It was ownership, carved into my flesh and soul.
I was no longer my own.
I belonged to Voldemort.
The extraction of my ancient magic abilities had come to an inglorious end.
Even the great Dark Lord couldn't take that power — so he'd taken the next best thing.
Me.
Professor Fig's whimpers of pain drifted from somewhere nearby, the sound breaking through my haze of despair.
I only saw him during my sessions, his presence wielded like a weapon to ensure my compliance.
And it had worked.
It always worked.
They kept him alive solely for that purpose — my weakness, my conscience, my heart.
Even when I asked questions about his treatment, they went unanswered.
All I knew, through Sully's careful whispers, was that he was kept in the dungeons.
The house-elf couldn't tell me more without risking punishment, and I couldn't bear to be responsible for more suffering.
Dragging my eyes from the throbbing mark, I glanced across at Fig.
He tried to send me a reassuring smile, but it crumbled before it fully formed.
The sight of him — broken but still trying to comfort me — made something inside me crack further.
Around the ballroom's edges, the witnesses to my submission stood like statues.
The Malfoys clustered together, a portrait of concealed discomfort.
Narcissa, who had been notably absent since our confrontation about Mattheo, fussed with Draco's collar rather than look at me.
Her hands trembled slightly as she adjusted the fabric.
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The Serpent & Hawke | Mattheo Riddle | Enemies to lovers
FantasyWe were now mere inches apart. I leaned down, my face level with hers, my eyes blazing with barely contained fury. "You don't want to make an enemy of me, Hawke." I growled. Lyanna swallowed hard, but her gaze remained defiant. "I'm not afraid of y...
