Chapter 1
In a crowd full of people, a young girl stood motionless, enveloped by the symphony of laughter and chatter, and the warm air that wrapped around her like a blanket of protection. Hundreds of people roamed about, exchanging embraces and laughter, while vendors peddled their wares to eager buyers, and young children ran around the crowd chasing after one another. Others had sparks from wands filling the air in attempts at enchanting onlookers. Many tents sprawled across the field, each offering a unique spectacle, some served as a haven for weary souls while others displayed an array of magical trinkets and charms begging to be taken home by a new buyer. But what made the air so welcoming was the aroma of freshly baked pastries and savory meals that drew the young girl in. The smell was so captivating that the girl closed her eyes and welcomed it, yet instead of being embraced by the sweet scent that she anticipated, her senses were rather assaulted by a harsh acrid smell.
No longer did she smell the sweet aroma of newly baked bread or cookies that once filled the air. In its place was the thick suffocating smell of smoke. Confusion filled the girl as she opened her eyes to the scene of the chaos unfolding before her. What once was a scene full of vibrant tents now stood something horrifying, the tents that were just full of laughing people, were now set ablaze casting sinister shadows over the chaos that surrounded the young girl.
She found herself ensnared in a frenzy surrounded by fleeing figures and dark-cloaked assailants who wore silver masks that reflected in the moonlight. The once joyous atmosphere had turned into a nightmare of screams and desperation. Despite the throngs of people, the girl no longer felt protected and welcomed, in place of that feeling she now felt utterly alone and pure fear.
Desperation filled her, as her body seemed to be locked in a macabre dance of terror. She felt powerless to move her body and to run among the people who were panicking and attempting to flee. Looking around she tried to plead for others to help her, but she was disregarded as everyone ran to save themselves. As she watched them with tears streaming down her face, unsure why she couldn't move, she noticed the eyes that continued to wander to the sky in pure terror before they ran out of viewpoint.
It was then she decided to look up, there in the sky was an ominous presence of a ghostly mark looming overhead, its gaze drawing her in. The feeling was magnetic, it was as though the mark wanted her to look at it, to be consumed by it. And it did, in fact, feel like she was being consumed, she felt as though her soul was being sucked from her body the longer, she stared into the illuminated sky. Struggling against the suffocating grip of fear, she finally managed to tear her gaze away from the captivating sky, only to find her body going completely limp causing her to collapse to the ground.
Unnoticed amidst the underfoot by the stampede of panic-stricken souls, she fought to hold on to consciousness, her pleas for help lost in the turmoil the last thing she felt was the feeling of feet stepping on her body before she lost consciousness.
~~~
Suddenly a girl’s body wretched itself forward out of her bed. The thick silken blankets felt as though they were suffocating her, her skin covered in a thin layer of sweat. She swallowed thickly, as her body trembled from the dream that shook her to her core. Looking to her left where a tall glass of water sat on her mahogany bedside table, the drink had not been there the previous day, however, she was sure one of the house elves had placed it for moments like these as they usually do. Quickly, she grabbed the glass and practically downed it in one gulp. Pulling back her mind was still reeling, she took deep breaths reminding herself she was alone and it was just a dream.
After taking a moment to collect herself the pale, dark-haired girl decided the best way to relieve her mind from the captivating dream was to begin her day. She tossed the suffocating blankets to the side, and placed her feet onto the cream rug, slipping her feet into her bedside slippers, to avoid the chill she was sure to get if she were to walk barefoot on her tiled floor. The curtains were pulled away from her window, letting the early sun stream into her bedroom, encasing the area in a soft golden hue where she stood and stretched when a knock suddenly rapped on her door.
“You may enter,” She called as she slipped her silken knee-length silver robe over her shoulders. Instead of the door opening, there was a soft pop that filled the room. The hazel-eyed girl glanced at where the sound came from and saw a small house elf standing there wringing her hands.
“Ditzy is here to be telling Mistress Lestrange that breakfast be ready soon,” The small elf with a grayish tint to her skin spoke. Her long pointy ears drooped down, and her green eyes took up half her wrinkly face. She was an anxious little thing and tended to be riddled with nerves anytime she spoke aloud, it was often shown in the way she wrung her hands constantly.
Smiling, the witch nodded in response, “I’ll be right down Ditzy, give me just a moment to freshen up,” The elf squeaked and lowered her head.
“Would Mistress like Ditzy to run the baths for her?” The house-elf asked but was already running to the bathroom before even getting an official answer. A giant claw foot tub was filled with warmed water instantly, and Ditzy was standing beside it. “Which oils would Mistress like today?” She asked as she held up a peppermint oil in one hand, and a lavender oil in the other.
“Peppermint will do Ditzy, thank you,” The dark-haired girl answered, she walked toward the tub as Ditzy put in the desired amount she knew the witch would like, bobbing her head and counting aloud as she put the drops in.
“Ditzy be going now, would Mistress Helene be like anything else? Ditzy can get the clothes ready for you!” the elf said, slightly bouncing on the balls of her little feet.
“No thank you Ditzy, that will be all for now, I appreciate you, you did a wonderful job,” the small creature beamed, she loved hearing her little mistress praise her for her doings. She knew she was lucky when the Master of the house instructed her to take care of the witch since she was as tall as the elf. Ditzy may be young compared to the other house elves in the manor but she was still over thirty years old.
Once alone again she rested her head against the back of the tub, still reeling from her dream. The girl wanted to relax her mind, and although she didn’t have much time till she was summoned again, she felt a little better being able to soak in the calming mint-infused water. Throwing her dark wavy hair into a knot on top of her head, she sank lower in the tub so she could let her muscles relieve themselves of the tension. Once finished she removed herself from the tub and walked to the sink, looking into the giant gold Victorian mirror that hung on the wall, the reflection of bright hazel green eyes rimmed with black lashes stared back. Her round cheeks were covered in very unflattering-looking red splotches that made her already sickly-looking pale skin look even more fevered. Deciding to forgo her reflection, she continued her morning routine.
Once finished the girl made her way into her closet and put on clothes appropriate for the day's activities. She was expected to accompany her cousin and his father to the quidditch world cup this year, meaning that she would have to choose an appropriate outfit for the August air. Throwing on a black and dark green plaid tweed dress that fell to just above her knees with a black lantern shirt with sheer sleeves underneath to cover her arms, and black shoes, while pairing it with pearl earrings, she took one last look in her mirror. She knew she was overdressed for such an event, but the Malfoys would expect nothing less from the young girl living in their home.
Walking down the stairs, and down hallways that were covered in paintings of past wizards, and witches. Paintings that had watched her grow for the last thirteen years. Being raised in the manor was an experience one would say. There were many rules to follow, and with some of society's most high-ranking witches and wizards staring down at her she had learned to never find herself at a moment's weakness in front of them. Of course, they were just paintings and couldn't do much, but no one wanted to hear the judgment of rotten words spewed out every time you passed them.
Finally making it into the main dining room, with a rather long table stretched across the middle, the girl made her way over. Already placed at the head of the table sat a man, with a newspaper held up just covering his face, his gray eyes flicking to her, as he wished her a good morning, she walked towards the pre-sat seat that was waiting. He sat, his back to the giant windows that would be expected in a Manor extravagant as this one. A golden halo cast around his stark blonde hair that lay softly on his shoulders. He had wide sharp shoulders with a strong jawline and was usually paired with a scowl that could cause grown men to whither in fear.
“Good morning Helene,” Came a sweet but stern voice, Helene looked over to the lady of the Manor who sat next to her. The woman sat with her hair elegantly pulled up onto her head. The woman, was rather angelic, with sharp angles of her face, who looked young and captivating. Her smooth pale skin practically glowed in the warm sunlight that drifted in through the tall floor-to-ceiling French windows that were to her right. Her posture was straight and elegant as well, not a hair or mishap out of place on the woman who was an angelic sight.
“Good morning, Cissa," Helene nodded her head in a proper greeting. The woman's eyes softened when the young girl smiled at her.
“How did you sleep dear?" She asked the girl with as she took a sip of her drink.
“I slept alright, thank you for asking,” The older woman simply nodded her head as she looked towards her husband and continued whatever conversation they were having before she entered the room. As it reached her lips another figure walked into the dining hall. Another angelic, almost marble-looking boy around the age of fourteen strutted to the table and went to the chair across from his mother.
Gracefully, he sat down, his usual slicked-back hair hung loose on his forehead due to the persuasion of his cousin and friends who had visited over the summer holiday. It took a lot to convince, seeing as the youngest Malfoy was obsessed with his looks and would throw a fit if he looked any less than what he would deem as adequate.
“Good morning little dragon,” Lucius said as he placed the paper down on the table, now that everyone had arrived.
“Good morning, sorry for my lateness, I had lost track of time making sure my things were prepared for later,” Draco said, head cast to the ground, awaiting his father's response.
“That’s quite all right little dragon, we’d much rather you be prepared for the journey rather than forget something, after all, a Malfoy is always prepared,” his mother told him in a loving tone.
No matter how strict the head of the family had tried to be with his son in public, at home both the lady and lord of the manor dotted on him as if he were their holy grail. Narcissa and Lucius may not have blasted it to the world, but they would do anything for their son, and everyone in the Manor already knew it.
“Yes Mother, '' Draco nodded. Helene sat quietly and ate her food, blocking out the conversation of the day’s events that the older man had planned for the two, her mind still plagued by the dream she had. Eventually, the breakfast had ceased at last, with Helene and Draco following the tall blonde figure out the door, and towards the port key that would take them to their destination.