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Volume I ✷ Chapter I Broken promises / White lies
Someone has to leave first. This is a very old story. There are no other versions of this story.
And the story always starts with this: Someone—someone, who usually does not understand what they mean to people—gets up in the middle of the night, grabs their bags already packed full, and exits out the front door without a care for whoever had the displeasure of hearing them. Actions always come with consequences. The consequences of this action consist of leaving their old life behind, and in turn, the people they love.
This is the case for Carina Dimitrescu. Someone—someone, who she loves dearly... Someone who did not understand what he meant to her—has left her. She knows this story very well. She also knows that there are no other versions of this story. She knows they will not return to her, pleading forgiveness. She knows that she cannot just move on from it and live a peaceful, adequate life in which nothing bad ever happens (because bad things do happen—they are bound to happen, for she bears the wretched, cursed Dimitrescu name). She knows that there will be no recovery from this. She knows that a decade in the future, she will remember this time and she will be a child once more, collapsing to her knees in the dirt from the weight and agony of it all.
House Dimitrescu often has that effect on people.
House Dimitrescu has always been rotten. They were rotten even before the ostentatious wealth and fame that came with the title of Minister—a title their family holds at least thrice in a century. They've been dominating the British Ministry of Magic since the creation of such a thing. Of course, it was going to garner them fame, and riches they do not need, and exposure in both the Wizarding and Muggle world. They had long been ensnared in a web of intergenerational grievances, unkempt secrets, and an insidious thirst for power that polluted their kinship.
Carina was merely fifteen when she was faced with the stark revelation that their family was a breeding ground for the darkest of inclinations. From manipulation, to substance abuse, to even murder and fratricide. They've always been riddled with the haunting specter of fratricide—of kin slaying kin; brothers turned adversaries—all in their family's lust for power and dominance, entangled in a cycle of treachery that often led to blood on their name. The revelation forced upon her a myriad of emotions. Anguish collided with simmering irritation toward her family's legacy, and born from it was an unspoken resentment that she carries even to this day. The insidious grip of their surname, once a source of supposed prestige, now felt an iron shackle, imprisoning her to a legacy of blood and despair.
She often traced the lineage of discontent within their home. Her father, stoic and unyielding, perpetuated the family's proud traditions but also its oppressive nature. Her mother, distance and reticent, once vibrant and kind as others had told her (Carina never knew her to be such), had wilted under the unrelenting weight of their name—just as she had never harbored a predilection for raising a daughter. In the labyrinthine corridors of House Dimitrescu, the rarely acknowledged curse favoured the continuation of their House through male heirs. Even now, their ancestral halls continue to echo with reverberations of generations past, each wrought with internal strife and an insatiable hunger for dominance.
