Being a Greengrass after all should sound pretty serene.
But being a part of "the Emeralds" should not, especially when hearts become entangled with the infamous Regulus Black.
Goodness, lawfulness, or evilness. Which path will they tread in the ti...
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August 25th, 1980
Rain whispered steadily against the windows, threading a soft percussion through the quiet of the room. Avery sat curled into an oversized armchair near the fireplace, a thick green wool blanket draped around her shoulders and a book open in her lap. The Ethics of Magical Resistance. Her eyes moved across the page, but she hadn't truly absorbed a sentence in several minutes. The fire crackled low beside her, and the oil lamp on the side table cast long shadows over the bookshelves lining the walls. It was late.
Then—the candle flickered once. The air shifted. Through the cracked windowpane, a shimmer of silver-blue light began to swell and gather like fog catching moonlight. Avery sat up straighter as the light condensed, then streaked into the room in the form of a raven — sleek, elegant, glowing with a ghostly shimmer.
The Patronus flapped twice and landed on the edge of her desk, its bright eyes fixed on her. And then, Regulus Black's voice echoed from it, soft but laced with urgency:
"Avery. I've found something. I can't send it by owl. May I come to your house — soon? If it's safe, I'll send the message to Dorcas and Pandora too."
The raven tilted its head once, then slowly dissolved into mist and vanished into the dim air. Avery sat still, staring at the spot where the Patronus had been, her hand frozen on the corner of her page. Her pulse beat a little faster. Regulus didn't usually send messages with his Patronus unless it mattered. She stood, letting the book slide shut with a quiet thud. Then she moved to the center of the room. The lamplight glinted in her eyes as she drew her wand in one fluid motion.
"Expecto Patronum."
Silver erupted from the tip of her wand — coiling and rising, shimmering like moonlight on a blade. It elongated, stretched, and then solidified into the form of a black mamba, lithe and alert. The snake rose, tongue flickering, as if waiting.
Avery leaned in close and whispered her message: "Yes. Come tonight. It's fine."
The mamba flicked its tongue again, then slithered toward the window, climbing the glass like it weighed nothing at all. Then it launched into the night sky, dissolving into a comet trail of silver.
✧˖°.☾
The rain had stopped. But the storm had left something behind — a tautness in the air, like the walls themselves were listening.
The drawing room of Greengrass Manor glowed warmly beneath candlelight. Books and parchments littered the table. Several magical maps had been left open so long their corners had begun curling upward. Half-empty teacups sat abandoned between stacks of notes. No one had bothered cleaning up. Regulus stood near the fireplace, still damp from travel. His black cloak hung heavily from his shoulders, darkened by rain. Though the room was warm, he hadn't taken it off. He hadn't sat down either.
Across from him, Pandora sat cross-legged on a floor cushion, absently braiding strands of something glittering between her fingers. Whether it was enchanted thread or something she'd collected on a whim, Avery wasn't entirely sure. Dorcas leaned against the doorway with her arms folded.
