The boy who loved

Chapter 6.1 (The secrets of House Beaufort)

This chapter is dedicated to zanejv9 for being an amazing friend and a great person to talk to and of course, the designer of the cover!

A little warning beforehand, I haven't finished this book. I'm currently somewhere around Slughorn giving Harry his memory in the Halfblood prince and I haven't really had inspiration lately so I don't know when I'm going to finish this book. However, the chapters that are done are ready to go so I have about 25 chapters ready to upload so I will try to do so as soon as possible.

Anyway, enjoy this book and I' m looking forward to what you think of them!

Love, Pip

♡♡♡♡

The power within her was threatening to burst out and when it would it could become so destructive the earth shuddered. She didn't have it under control. Her wild emotions were finally starting to show and however necessary that was for her mental health it couldn't have come at a more inopportune time. She needed to keep her head.

It was just one more year. One more year of constant vigilance. One mistake and world peace would once again be in jeopardy.

But Dumbledore, however much he tried, could not seem to calm her down. If anything his mere presence and the anger she still felt when remembering what he had done to her...to Harry.

It was anything but stabilising. But she couldn't let it be known how much she had grown to distrust her own grandfather. If he ever suspected, he would probably find a way to take away her power out of precaution. There was nothing Dumbledore loved more than having faith in his own hands.

It was the day he had returned with his blackened hand that Aurora almost lost it. It was one thing for her not to trust him but whatever had she done for him not to trust her?

He kept repeating he would tell her, that now was not the time but she knew that, he couldn't put it off forever. It was going to catch up on him.

Aurora had always been good at magical reading. She could tell when someone was gathering their strength to perform a spell. The difference between a little or advanced one. The lightness of a charm against the heaviness of a hex or curse.

The great Albus Dumbledore always seemed to walk around with a permanent level of magic radiating off of him. Whether it was because he was an heir, or just so he could intimidate even the worst of wizards, she didn't know. 

At first she could only see that power when looking at him. A bright blue that was almost suffocating when he stood too close. But now it was tainted. Tainted by the dark taste of a curse.

It was as if she could see it spreading through his veins. All the way from his ring vinger where the curse must have started, to his elbow.

She already knew there was no stopping it. Dumbledore was dying. It was supposed to happen. But why hide it from her?

It frustrated her to no end.

So she ran. Ran away from that ever-looming cloud of power and the perceptiveness of the headmaster's gaze.

She needed a break, to clear her head.

She took a train, not really caring where it went. And once she got off she rented a bike and just rode off into the sunset like she had always dreamed.

She had ended up in a beautiful park. The sun was just setting when she got there, casting a reddish glow over the flower beds and sparkling ponds.

She sat down on a bench, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths. The weight the distance had lifted felt like freeing herself from the suffocating air of a hot thunderstorm day.