𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗻𝗼 𝗱𝗲𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗶𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲. 𝗡𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗰𝘂𝗹𝗮𝗿 𝘄𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘀. 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝗻𝗼 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗯𝗹𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝘁𝗲. 𝗘𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝘂𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝘂𝗯𝗷𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲. 𝗙𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗼𝘄𝗹𝘀, 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗲𝘁𝗰𝗵𝗲𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗿 𝗯𝗲𝘆𝗼𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘄𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝘀𝗲𝗲.
𝗣𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗻𝗼 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁. 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗽𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗹𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗯𝗲𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝘃𝗶𝗿𝘁𝘂𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝗲𝗻.
𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗻, 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗿𝘂𝗹𝘆 𝗱𝗲𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀 𝘂𝘀?
|| SUMMARY ||
The foundation of Britain's Ministry of Magic lies on cracked, wobbly pillars. Voldemort had waged a war that left vile gaping wounds in the hearts of the people. Even a decade later, those ruptures continued to plague the minds of many; it's doubtful that they would ever be able to bleach their minds of those tragedies of war.
Ten years have passed since that fateful night in which Harry James Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, ended the order of pain and suffering that Voldemort had cast upon Britain. For a decade, Edwyn Belmonte has regarded the peculiar abilities that plagued his life with wariness and distrust. He was a magnet for the strangeness.
After discovering the world of magic, new faces and opportunities arise from the ashes of his past. Familial ties are uncovered, and dangerous truths are revealed as every hidden clue to the past, present, and future gradually unravel before his very eyes.
Countless crossroads lie in the journey ahead, and a sole error could cost far more than loss of limb; bit by bit, the line that separates the light and dark blurs from life's tragedies and ill-fitted decisions. The destination of the winding road remains ever-changing as Fate's pool of winding strings and projecting waters rolls violently and entangles itself within the strengthening chaos.
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