The Spark {Book 5 in the Star of Gryffindor Series}

Chapter 17 - Fireworks and Other Fires

The Daily Prophet
Issue No. 102,046
26 December, 2021

Lestrange in Azkaban!

Rumors have spread over the past few days that Astra Lestrange visited Azkaban over the past few days. It is unknown why this would happen, but the Prophet is committed to bringing you every story you deserve to hear, and this is one of them. As more information becomes available, we'll publish it.

Speculation has said that perhaps Lestrange was simply visiting her family. As most of the wizarding world knows, Rodolphus and Orion Lestrange have both been in Azkaban for years. Others speculate that perhaps Lestrange has been fostering some new, darker interests...

~~~~

I glared at Ciara strictly out of principle these days, I'd realized. She wasn't half so aggravating anymore. Or maybe I simply wasn't half so aggravated.

Either way, the Malfoys and I had been having a pretty good few days. Christmas had been much less painful than the Potters would believe (for one thing, Ciara and Elcie had gotten Scorpius a really nice racing broom, and he'd been letting us all take turns when we played Quidditch). When we weren't cooing over Charis, we were outside, having Gryffindor vs Slytherin snowball fights or Quidditch matches.

Of course, the fact that I was having fun didn't mean that I'd forgotten my father. I was still determined to do everything I could for him. I'd made Teddy take my shopping when we got home that day and bought him a proper jumper. I'd talked to Aunt Andromeda, as well, about if there wasn't any way we could get him a trial. She told me not to do anything rash, but she would look into it.

Scorpius and Ciara had heard about my visit to Azkaban. I knew because I'd overheard them whispering about it, sounding worried. They hadn't brought it up to me, yet, and I was fine with that. I hadn't seen the Potters or Wren since we'd gone to Diagon Alley, so I hadn't had to talk to them, either.

I was doing fine. That's what I kept telling myself. I stayed busy, which wasn't hard with my cousins. I wasn't having nightmares anymore, luckily. I'd at least gotten that straight in my head. For the most part. Of course, a small, reasonable voice kept whispering that blue eyes weren't that uncommon...

I was doing fine. I wasn't dwelling on this. I was happy and having fun and just getting to be with my family.

But not my family.

Nights. That's when everything crashed down. When I couldn't distract myself with cute babies or Quidditch or a snowman army Scorpius tried to enchant to throw snowballs at us and win the snowball war of Christmas afternoon. When my thoughts got to roam free.

What would my life be like?

If the Ministry hadn't jailed my father without a trial, in such an act of injustice that it made my blood boil, what would my life be like? My mum might be alive. I never would have had to live with the Lewises. I would have grown up with people I loved.

I would have grown up with people who loved me.

My life would have been so different. So, so wildly different. Better. With people who loved me and supported me. Maybe I would've had little brothers and sisters. The thought made me cry, most nights. Thinking of what I'd missed out on. Thinking of what the Ministry had taken away from me.

And so I cried myself to sleep. And every morning, I would wake up, and wash my face, and act like I was a perfectly normal, functioning member of society and ignore the fact that I was seething at any mention of the Ministry and ready to slip into a depressive episode at any other time.