Snake fangs || D.M

Twenty-four

"These are dark times, there is no denying. Our world has perhaps faced no greater threat than it does today. But I say this to our citizenry: We, ever your servants, will continue to defend your liberty and repel the forces that seek to take it from you! Your Ministry remains strong" I mumble reading a quote in the Daily Prophet. 

My eyes drifted towards the brightly lit flashing picture, and they lingered on Minister Scrimgeours intense stare. Unlike former Minister Cornelius Fudge, Scrimgeour understood there was a war at hand and was not willing to cower behind lies in order to ignore national panic. Though, he did seem too confident in the power of the ministry.

I sighed and turned over the page noticing that the further got into the prophet the grimmer the headlines were becoming.

"Everything alright dear?" my mother asked, just as I had snapped my head away from the small mention of muggle deaths in the bottom left corner of the prophet.
"Just wizarding politics" I weakly smiled.
"Perhaps it's best if you cut down on the newspapers dear, it can be rather depressing" My father suggested noticing my glum expression.
"I don't think that'll help much" I admitted looking out of our kitchen window.

The golden age of summer never arrived, every day was suffocatingly close with a gloomy grey sky. Skulls had been painted in the clouds dominating the whole of Britain warning wizards and muggles alike of the horror yet to come. The feeling of dread became far too familiar, it drained me, and there were days where I couldn't get up at all. My parents noticed this change and were worried beyond belief, not making the connection with the skull in the sky and my pitted sadness. Unfortunately, this was far more grave than any muggle would imagine.And as for him, the boy whos named pained me, there was no forgetting our past, there was no disregarding him. Everything I saw and everything I did reminded me of him, so I was left with nothing to do but lie in bed for hours staring at a blank wall hoping his face would never cloud my vision. It was foolish of me to even try to forget.

"You want another tea love?" my father asked my mother
"oh go on then" she accepted, handing him her colourful mug that I had designed in primary school that they bought at one of our school fates.
"Thea?" dad required turning to face me.
"No thanks" I declined.

When they were busy with their conversation, I was making sure to study both parents as if that was the last time I was to ever see them. If all goes wrong, it very much could be.

My father was a tall lanky man with thinning dark brown hair. His eyebrows were full and expressive above his hazel eyes, and his nose was angular. He always had stubble and never clean-shaven or a natural beard, he prefered the 'in-between look' as he had put it. He worked your typical 9-5 in an office job every day apart from Saturday and Sunday when he would cook the best roast dinner I had ever tasted even putting the Hogwarts feast to shame.
My mother, however, was not the most natural cook and had been burning oven pizzas for as long as I could remember. She was a petite lady, with a round flushed face, doelike blue eyes, and light brown hair, these were all factors that I had carried on. She often wore next to zero makeup and was always in a floral dress come rain or shine. My mother was a nursery teacher which made it easier to spend time with her when I got back home for the holidays.
They were both very interested in the life I had found myself apart of, but neither was surprised when I got my letter as I had been doing unexplainable things since I was a child. I think they were just happy that they hadn't imagined these instances.