"𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙜𝙤𝙣𝙮"
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IN WHICH ~ Jupiter Cassiopeia Lestrange thought she could escape her family's dark legacy at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but in her second year, Tom Riddle's diar...
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"If you carry your childhood with you, you'll never become older."
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Their plans were made, their preparations complete; in (plucked from the sweater Hermione had been wearing at Malfoy Manor) lay curled in a small glass phial on the mantelpiece.
"And you'll be using her actual wand," Harry said, nodding toward the walnut wand in Jupiter's hand, "so I reckon you'll be pretty convincing. You did live with her for thirteen years."
"I hate that thing," Jupiter said in a low voice. "I really hate it. This feels just like the one she made me use for years, it doesn't work properly for me... It's like a bit of her. Can't Hermione do this?"
"No," Hermione quickly said, shaking her head. "Your scars can't be transfigured away. They'll know it's you in an instant. And I'm also taking any excuse to not do it."
"I don't blame you," Ron said softly, his hand going behind Hermione's back; she didn't flinch or react, like she was used to his touch now. "After what she did to you..."
Jupiter's jaw tightened, but she said nothing. She looked away, focusing her gaze on the phial on the mantelpiece. The venomous curl of hair inside it seemed to mock her, twisting and turning as if alive.
Ron's words echoed in her ears, the casual sympathy grating against her nerves. 'What she did to Hermione.' The truth of it stung, not because it wasn't warranted, but because it was so singularly directed. She could still feel the phantom ache in her own body—flesh torn, pain searing, her screams echoing in the dungeon walls. Bellatrix had tortured her too. But no one spoke of it.
The room seemed smaller suddenly, the air heavier. She kept her expression neutral, a mask she'd perfected over the years. It doesn't matter, she told herself. It never mattered.
"Jupiter," Harry's voice broke through her spiraling thoughts, quiet but deliberate.
She blinked, turning her head to find him watching her. His eyes were searching, his brow furrowed as if he could read the conflict in her silence. He always could.
"You all right?" he asked, his voice low enough that Ron and Hermione couldn't hear.
"I'm fine," she replied quickly, a little too quickly, tightening her grip on the wand.
Harry's frown deepened. "You don't have to do this if you're not ready."
"No," Jupiter said sharply, then softened her tone. "No... I can do it. It's just..." She hesitated, glancing toward Ron and Hermione, who were murmuring to each other now, their heads close together. The sight only made the knot in her chest tighten further.
