Y/n Cordelia Granger lived a happy but simple life in the suburbs of London with her parents and younger sister, Hermione, until her 11th birthday. As the day's sun beamed overhead, the young girl was covered in its light that glimmered with the pro...
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The restless nights and constant waking moments of each day had finally caught up to Y/n Granger and made her crash hard. Tucked soundly in her four poster bed she was sound asleep, but even in the throes of unconsciousness she wasn't safe.
In her dreams, each second ticked loudly away on a clock she couldn't see, but could feel inside her. Each of the hands' movements twisted the knife, syncing with the beats of her heart and decay of her body.
She was stuck in place feeling time moving and watching the sky at Hogwarts.
The sun had set, painting a beautiful orange hue across the clouds. Then the orange clouds started to melt, their dreamy essence dripping like acid rain and killing everything that had once lived. Each drop of sunset against the ground screamed into the stagnant air when it burst.
She tried to step forward, but her feet were rooted to the spot. When she looked down, she saw green roots rising from the ground and crawling over feet and legs. Within a second, the roots had wrapped around her skin and pulled her to the ground leaving red marks where it'd cut her circulation off. Its green roots continued to shoot from the soil that was now acrid and orange from the rain.
The plant encircled her like an anaconda, burying her under its purple cylindrical flowers and spiky leaves and chaining her to her spot with its jagged stems. Her skin burned and gave way to raw flesh where the roots and leaves touched, but under the weight of flowers she found air.
The breath she rasped in was interrupted by a screech. She watched through poisoned eyes, red and bloodshot, as Buckbeak soared towards a full moon that had peeled out over the whomping willow only to be pulled back by a hand missing one finger that formed from the wind.
Y/n startled awake the next night, gasp stuck in her dry throat and heart racing in her chest as her eyes opened to the sight of the constellations she'd fallen asleep under since first year. She lifted her hand to wipe away the sweat that had collected at the crown of her forehead, but was met with the light tickling feeling of a feather.
"What in the bloody hell?-" She murmured drowsily to herself, forcing her weary body to sit up in bed only to find that while asleep she'd somehow gotten ahold of her sketchbook and a quill.
She couldn't quite make out what she'd drawn in her sleep. The dark splotches of ink covered the page like blood that melted into the shape of the grim. The only white parchment still visible among the grim were the eyes, one a star and the other a full moon, and somehow she suddenly understood what the drawing and her dream were trying to tell her.
Somehow all of the pieces that had failed to connect, some that hadn't even seemed related, for months started to coalesce as she sat frozen in shock.
It was a warning, the last one she'd receive. A pleading from her own prophetic visions to find a way against the weight of the entire wizarding world to make things right once and for all.
