Atropos

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Atropos , the inevitable, she who chooses how someone dies by cutting the thread of life.

Darkness. All I saw and felt, was darkness. Cold and ruthless obscurity, with no ending and no beginning. I knew I was dead, it wasn't that hard to figure out. Those yellow eyes, the mysterious attacks on the students, Riddle - who had declared himself a parselmouth, and the hiss I had heard right before dying. A freaking basilisk, that's what ended me. 

Surprisingly, Riddle really did speak parseltongue and he really was, most likely, the Heir of Slytherin. At least now I know where his insanity came from, seeing as all the direct descendants of Slytherin had gone insane after years of inbreeding - like the Gaunts, for example. 

I was waiting for something, you know, the light at the end of the tunnel or something. Maybe meet a few ancestors, or going to the so called Heaven the muggles believed in.

Then it started- the burning. There wasn't any other name to call it. Just the painful feeling of my entrails on fire, slowly but continuously and always stronger. Then I felt it, light in my eyelids. As If I had been asleep but the sun light was waking me up. 

Slowly I opened my eyes. I saw the stone ceiling I had opened my eyes to for the majority of my past seven years- Hogwarts. I let out a sigh, and closed my eyes again. 'Wasn't I supposed to be dead? Did I get petrified instead? But that doesn't make any sense!' I thought to myself. 'I looked directly at the eyes, and I know Basilisks don't just kill those of 'impure blood'.'

I forced myself into a sitting position, and I unwillingly opened my eyes again. To say that I was expecting to see what I saw would be a lie.

Lying next to me was the cold body of a dark haired girl, a young girl who still had much to live for. A young girl who still had goals to accomplish, who still had hopes and dreams. A young girl who still had people who she loved and people who loved her. 

Next to me was the deceased frigid body of a daughter, a sister, a friend.

Next to me was the lifeless icy body of Aurelia Ava Potter.

Next to me was my own dead frozen body.

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I don't know how long I just sat there looking at it. I had known I was dead, but seeing it was believing it. I finally looked away and got up. Looking at it wasn't going to change it, unfortunately. 

I glanced at my hands and frowned. Just to be sure I walked towards the mirror to see my own reflection. I didn't look dead. I mean, I really didn't look like a ghost. No silvery transparency for me. 'What in the world in going on?' I thought to myself. 

Many wizards had studied death and the afterlife. They still did to this day and the theories were abundant. Some believed in reincarnation, others believed that ghosts were the same as portraits- sentient beings with the memories of the living. The truth was that only four things were known for sure.

When you died you either stayed dead, or you could become either a ghost, a banshee or a phantom. Ghosts were more common, as they are the spirits of wizards and witches who were either afraid of death or had a strong connection to the place they haunted. However, it was a choice. The departed had to wish to leave an imprint of their souls in the world of the living.

Banshees, were something different. They could have been muggles or witches, but they were always females. Not many things were known about Banshees, other than a few things. They all had a thing in common- their hearts had been broken during their life. Most, if not all of them, had died by committing suicide. They were known as wailing women because they cries could kill. They're described as zombie-like, and they preferred to prey on young men. 

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