The Lost Heir of Ilvermony

Season of Love and Hate

Despair has its own smell, its old paper half decayed with an undercurrent of hard soap, the kind that I remember from childhood. I’m not in the past though this is the present I feel it. What I see is a person in black cloak surrounded by dementors. They’re in the foggy forest, the trees dying. The scent of rotten leaves hangs heavy as fog surrounds the figure. Beside the person is a patrounce but its different too not silver this is large cat blood red. Cold air heavy with mildew, a voice an old horse is speaking. A dementor floats up to the person pointing  bony finger. “You can not be trusted.”

Another voice younger, cold in tone but familiar. “You know my hate is true, you want vengeance against those who wronged you. My life was stole from me I want it back.”

More voices whisper in the darkness. “Do it.”

“Take the hand.”

“She is without mercy.”

Again the leader speaks, “I’m the last original all my brothers have died my sons never knew the creator he was a wizard whose love of suffering is legendary watching other wrath in pain was paradise. You are much like him.”

“So we do have a deal?”

Her red patroncus turns sniffing the ground and the dementors let it pass; they don’t fear it. A few even reach down touching it. Fangs out it leans down low in a pouncing state ready to strike at me. New voice of my Dad among them is binding me to this place as the cat lets out an unholy roar.

Opening my eyes I reach for my wand, “Lumos.” I mutter as the feedle light casts long shadows in the room. Standing on shaking legs, looking at myself in the mirror, three lines are fading from my neck.

Laying down in my bed I keep my eyes open that feeling of utter despair has my heart racing. I don’t want to sleep I know if I close my eyes I’ll be in that place. The woman she wasn’t affected by the dementors her patrounce was red.

“Just a bad dream if you don’t have a site.” I keep repeating that as sleep takes me back.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

“Lyra!”

I groan turning over in my bed, my nightmare still fresh on my mind. “Lyra, come we have presents.”

Pulling on an oversized sweater I wave my wand calling two tin cups from my trunk. “Coming.”

Christmas at Ilvermorny has the hall ringing with paper cardinals enchanted to sing out Joy to the Witches and Jingles Brooms. Dainel is looking at an evergreen tree about six feet tall. Ords of cranberry and blue are glittering as tiny candles flicker.  He’s smiling at the bright packages that weren't there last night. sitting on the cough I set the cups dowe, casting my charm. “Here this is for you.”

Taking the cup he drinks it, “Ohhh that's good.”

Leaning back, Casper slithers down from the tree with a tiny paper hat tied to his head. “Merry christmas, ho ho ho.”

I laugh as he attempts to push a box toward me, Daniel helps him along. “My Parents sent this to you.”

Opening the box I pull out a pair of black socks with small witch hats in gold at the top. There’s also a letter that I save for later reading. Pulling my own sock off I put on my new one. It's butter soft reaching to my mid cafe, “These are nice.”