On that fateful Halloween night, Lily and James survived while Voldemort apparently 'marked' Harry Potter as his equal.
Aria Potter, twin sister of the boy-who-lived was proclaimed a squib, abandoned by her family and given to the care of the Dursl...
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A hush hung over the crowd. An unnatural kind of silence.
Heavy and waiting.
Even the colourful flags lining the stands had stilled, their fabric barely stirred in the stagnant air.
From the tunnel's shadow came the faint echo of light footsteps, the sound of boots scraping against stone— and for a moment that was the only sound.
Then she emerged.
The light hit Aria all at once, forcing a squint as she stepped out onto the cracked ground.
Thousands of eyes peered down at her from the stands. Their gazes almost felt like heat on her skin— eager, expectant, merciless. Most of them seeming oddly excited to witness the possible death of a teenage girl.
Her own gaze swept across the sea of faces, searching for something—someone—a familiar face, perhaps.
She caught the unmistakable glimmer of blue—Dumbledore's eyes, bright as candle flames behind his half-moon spectacles. He sat in the top box, serene as ever, the faintest hint of a smile tracing his mouth. Beside him, Madame Maxime loomed in her over the top silk, her chin lifted proudly as she surveyed the arena, and Igor Karkaroff leaned forward with his hawkish appearance, his expression unreadable beneath that awfully grown out goatee. A few seats down, she recognized Ludo Bagman's flushed face and the stiff, tight-lipped figure of Barty Crouch.
And then—her heart gave a strange, stuttering lurch.
James and Lily Potter sat together a few rows behind the officials. Lily's hand was clenched around her husband's sleeve, then she seemed to say something that made him glance at her, but his eyes found Aria again, just for a heartbeat.
She looked away first.
There were too many faces. Too many voices blurring together, a thousand pairs of eyes turning her into a spectacle. She scanned the stands again, faster this time, heart skipping as she searched for the ones who mattered.
Where were Peter and Draco? Blaise, Pansy, Theo—any of them?
Aria's pulse quickened. There was no time.
Thankfully it didn't take long for her to see it. That golden glint at the far end of the arena.
The egg.
Her stomach twisted. "Alright," she muttered under her breath, voice dry as the dirt around her. "Get the shiny thing, don't die. Easy."
Ps ; the pep talk didn't work. Uncle Steve was way better than her when it came to this.
She licked her lips—they tasted like dust—and took her first careful step forward.
The ground shuddered.
Her foot slipped on loose gravel, and she staggered back as something massive tore through the air, the sound of stone cracking and wind whooshing in her ears. A thunderous crash followed, like a mountain had decided to leap.
