❝𝐈 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝.❞
Jupiter Black has been isolated from the outside world her entire life up until the age of thirteen. During a duel with her mother, Jupiter tragically witnesses her death and flees from h...
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𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 11
I HAD TO DIE. There was never another way. Not for me.
Some people are born to live—to carve a place in the world, to make something of themselves. Others are born to fight—to struggle, to bleed, to survive even when the world tries to break them. But me?
I was born to end things.
That's why I was made. That's why I existed at all. A piece of Voldemort that never should have been, a fragment of something dark and wrong. And yet, I had been more than that too, hadn't I? I had been me.
So I did the only thing I could. I let myself go.
I felt it happen—the moment the Killing Curse struck. The way my body unraveled, how everything inside me folded in on itself, as if I had been stretched too thin, my very essence collapsing inward. Pain had been there, for an instant. A sharp, unbearable agony. And then—
Nothing. But this? This is not nothing. This is home. But home has never felt like this.
The air is warm, thick with the scent of something soft and familiar—fresh parchment, vanilla, the lingering trace of rain. Golden sunlight spills through the open windows, dancing lazily across the wooden floorboards, painting the walls in streaks of gold.
It is quiet.
That is the first thing I notice. The absence of screaming, of battle, of death pressing in at the edges of my senses.
The absence of him.
For a moment, I cannot breathe. This is not how I remember this place. The house I grew up in had never been warm. It had never been soft. My childhood home had been filled with cold silences, with the whisper of secrets, with the ever-present feeling that I was something unnatural, something wrong.
But this...This place is peaceful.
I sit up slowly, the sheets slipping from my shoulders. My hands are steady, my limbs solid. I press my fingers to my chest where the Killing Curse had struck, expecting pain, expecting something.
But there is only stillness.
A shadow moves at the door. My breath catches in my throat, and then— She steps inside. My mother. Not the version I knew. Not the untouchable, poised woman who raised me with the precision of a blade being sharpened.
She is softer. Her dark hair cascades over her shoulders in gentle waves, her expression open in a way I have never seen before. And she is looking at me like she sees me.
For a moment, I cannot speak.
She crosses the room, her movements light, effortless, as if she has done this a thousand times before. She sits on the edge of my bed, taking my hands in hers. Her fingers are warm.
My throat tightens. "No." The word barely escapes my lips. "No, you—you died." She nods. "I did." My breath hitches. "But you were there. You were always there. I saw you." She exhales, her thumb brushing absently over my knuckles. "You saw what I made you see." The words strike like a knife to the chest.
I shake my head, a cold panic settling deep in my bones. "That's not possible." She tilts her head, her gaze unreadable. "You, of all people, should know what is possible." I want to scream. I want to tear this moment apart because it is wrong, wrong.
"You were never real?" I whisper, my voice breaking. She flinches, just slightly. "I was real in the only way I could be." I rip my hands from hers. My breath comes too fast, too sharp. "No." I shake my head. "That's not fair." She doesn't argue. She simply looks at me, with all the regret in the world sitting in her eyes.
I feel something behind me. A shift in the air. And when I turn—Sirius. My father. I go still. He doesn't hesitate. He moves forward, his arms around me before I can even react, holding me so tightly I can barely breathe. And I shatter.
I grip onto him like he is the only thing keeping me from slipping through the cracks of the world. My fingers dig into the fabric of his robes, and I sob. Not the quiet kind, not the kind I had been taught to contain. It is ugly, broken, the sound of something inside me cracking wide open.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs into my hair. "I'm so sorry, Jupiter." I shake my head against him, gasping through the sobs. "I just—I just wanted—" He knows. He always knew. He pulls back, gripping my face between his hands, his grey eyes filled with something too vast to name. "You got through it," he says, voice rough. "You did what I never could." I exhale shakily. "Then why am I here?" His expression darkens.
And I know. I am not done yet. A voice speaks from the doorway, smooth and quiet. "I was wondering when you'd get here." I turn. Snape. He stands there, arms crossed over his chest, watching me with a strange sort of weariness.
"Snape," I breathe. He inclines his head, and for the first time, I see it. Fondness. "You did well," he says softly. "You were always meant to survive longer than I did." I inhale sharply. "I didn't survive." His lips curl in something like amusement. "Didn't you?" I open my mouth, but the words fail me.
Snape steps forward, his black robes sweeping across the floor. "You were always more than what he made you." I swallow hard. "I became a Death Eater." Sirius flinches. Snape does not. I force myself to meet my father's gaze. "I killed people, Sirius." His jaw tightens. "I know."
I shake my head. "No, you don't. You weren't there." His expression softens. "I was watching." My breath stutters. "I saw you," Sirius murmurs. "I saw everything." I feel like I might break all over again. Snape folds his arms, glancing at Sirius with something unreadable in his gaze. "And yet, you were never one of them." I exhale shakily, nodding once.
A familiar laugh rings through the air. I turn, my chest caving in. Fred. My best friend. His grin is still there, but there is sadness in his eyes now. I choke on my breath. "I didn't know," I whisper. He smirks. "Yeah, well, neither did I." The ache in my chest is unbearable.
Fred's expression softens. "You did good, Jupiter." I shake my head. "I let you die." He shrugs. "Nah. I just beat you to it." I want to laugh. I want to scream. I can hear a chuckle and turn my head to the side where Tonks walks into the room. She moves over to me and I wrap my arms around her, my hair changing colour.
"You're brave, Jupe." She says to me and rubs her hands over my back. "I believe in you." She moves away and wipes the tears that fall from my eyes. And then, suddenly, I feel it—pulling me back.
Sirius steps forward, his hands on my shoulders. "It's not over," he says softly. Fred grins. "Sorry, mate, but you don't get to die just yet." Tonks winks. "Go be brilliant, yeah?" I shake my head. "But—"
Sirius presses his forehead to mine. "You're not done yet, Jupiter." And then, everything fades. The warmth. The light. The voices. And I wake up.
