❛ASTERIA EDWARDS was your average, typical eleven-year-old child stuck in a pandemic with her mother Isabella Diggory until she found out where she truly came from.. and where she truly belonged...❜
[extended summary inside]
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harry potte...
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Asteria did not remember the last time she had felt so deeply hurt. Was it back when Cedric died? When she found out about her father's life and her own? Or was it when she saw her Mum disappear into the veil?
A feeling she thought she had buried deep months ago was there beneath her skin still, thrumming gently like an unwanted reminder.
"It hurts more though, does it not?" asked Amelia, her head tilted, and Ria felt mocked. "Not going back alive must feel better than whatever ugly thing that you are feeling right now, isn't it, Ria?"
Ria grit her teeth, legs heavier than ever as she still denied the truth.. or at least tried to.
"It's okay. It's completely normal to feel that way." Amelia grinned.
The more you feel, the easier it is for me to get into your head.
The pressure around her neck lifted, and she took a desperate gulp of air.
Ria refused. She didn't want to acknowledge her.
"What do you want?" Her question was towards Voldemort.
"What the Dark Lord wants is right in front of him."
"I don't get it. I might be a Seer, but I've accomplished nothing. An Obscurial who's way past her lifespan.. could die any moment. An Azrael who's likely a bad luck. If I remember correctly being around my grandmother didn't do much good for you." Her eyes stayed on him.
"Do you think of the world's greatest sorcerer as a fool, Asteria?"
"You could do anything to me.. whatever you want— however you.." Her words stumbled. "Only to never get me on your side. Ever."
She refused to look at Amelia. "All you could do is kill me, and all it'll do is infuriate some people. But I'll never be what you see in me—"
"What a waste—"
"The fact that you even thought of capturing me instead of murdering me on sight is one of the most idiotic things you could've done—"
"Asteria, it's not working—"
"HOW DO YOU STILL HAVE THE AUDACITY TO SPEAK TO ME?!"
But they were both grinning—Amelia and Voldemort—and Ria knew her irises were glowing. She felt the phoenix on her forearm warm her skin. Her throat felt raw. She hadn't meant to scream. She hadn't meant to look at Amelia with hurt, pouring eyes. Amelia did not deserve her tears.
She looked at the floor, at the tears falling down that she couldn't control. Her temples hurt. Her chest hurt.
"Why... How could you—" She was grateful for the sob that stopped her from speaking. Amelia had been making a fool out of her for the past four years, and she couldn't take another day, minute, or even second of it.
