Our Little Secret [Harry Potter]

Prologue

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02 August 1993,

Shards of glass came flying in as the front door slammed, announcing the arrival of Seraphina's father. Seraphina leaped up from her chair, snatched off her slippers, and darted soundlessly for the marble stairs heading up, running for her dear life. She knew better than to stick around when her father came home late at night drunk; that lesson was definitely learned the hard way.

Once in the safety of her room, Seraphina silently closed the door, making sure the silver bolt was locked tight, blocking out the angry slurs and the occasional thuds. Tears blurred her vision as she sank to the floor, huddled in a small ball against the door, feeling as if the whole world was up against her.

Soon after, deafening loud crashes and the terrified screams of a woman echoed from the downstairs kitchen. Mother.

This happened at least twice a week. After a long stressful day cramped up in a busy office, her father would unwind by drinking and gambling with a group of his close friends and co-workers, but often, it got too far. He would always come home late in a terrible mood, hazel eyes narrowed in fury, smashing everything that happened to be in his way, living or not.  

Her mother's screams suddenly turned into frantic pleading, her words interrupted by her father's loud cruel laughs.

Seraphina needed to go help her mother. Fast. 

There were some frantic muffled threats about calling the police, some angry grumbles, and then dead silence.

Looks like her mother solved the problem. Her father always backed up when the police were mentioned; too afraid to have a criminal record destroy his perfect image. She should still go check up on her mother, though.

Seraphina got to her feet before another mighty slam of a door jolted the house, rattling her bookshelf.

"Blasted bugger!" she muttered as a box of beads crashed to the floor, bouncing and scattering in all directions. As she scrambled to gather them, a small piece of paper on her shelf caught the corner her eye.

The fortune.

She stared, as if put in a trance. The paper seemed to be giving off an unearthly glow, drawing her closer. She remembered every detail of the day the fortune came into her hands nearly two years ago.

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February 05, 1991

Seraphina stumbled out from the tent, dazed from the heavy perfume, trying her hardest to stifle a laugh. She glanced down at the fortune she held and snorted.

"In times of need,
I shall grant you a deed,
Go through a hedge,
Up a street's edge,
Where your destiny is to meet a lover worth no less,
Than your finest dress."

She had plenty of dresses of many trends and colours, but she took absolutely no interest in wearing any of them. And a lover?! Goodness, what were that old man and his tabby cat playing at? She was eleven!

What a waste of money. School carnivals were absolute rubbish.

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