Black, Dalia

A knock sounds on the door of my private room, I intend to ignore it, but it becomes more urgent and before I even have the chance to open it whoever is there is inviting themselves in. My wand is in my hand in a flash, three spells unleashed and bouncing off a hastily cast shield before I can think about it.

“Dalia?!” A worried looking Snape shouts, in fact his eyes are darting around scanning the room for… For what? Intruders? He seems almost frantic. I stare at him questioningly, anger at his trespassing slowly fading. Slowly, he relaxes, his wand disappearing into his sleeve.

“Apologies for the interruption Miss Black, there is an intruder within the walls. You need to come with me.” He states. An intruder? Given how he saw fit to burst in here he must have had reason to believe they might be here. That can only mean,

“My father.” He tenses as I speak, looks appalled by the fact I even said it.

“That mutt,” he hisses, “yes, he has been sighted in the castle. I believe he may seek you out.”

“I thought he was hunting The Wizarding Worlds Darling? You really think he’d stop in for little old me?” I spat. Turning back to the desk I had abandoned when Snape decided to barge in. My half completed herbology paper lays on the table, the ink smudged. It will have to be re-written. What right did he have to walk in like that?

“Who saw him?” I asked, aimlessly fiddling with my wand.

“The Fat Lady, he attacked her portrait.”

Hatred flooded my body, for a second I’d actually allowed myself to hope. Maybe, somehow, he’d heard I returned to the wizarding world. Maybe, just maybe, he’d been the first person to escape Azkaban for me, to find me. Foolish. I dropped my wand to the side and began straightening up the papers that had flown of the table when I jumped out of my seat.

“As I said, he’s here for Potter. I’ll ward the door and be perfectly safe here.” I said, aiming for nonchalance but just missing the mark.

“Black you-“ “No.” I said, my tone sharp as I cut him off. His face dropped into a glower.

“This is for your safety.” He hissed, prowling towards me. “All students are to go to the Great Hall, or do you believe you are above such instruction?”

I raised my wand as he came to stop right in front of me, the tip of it resting against his chest, the polished wood creasing his frock coat. We became trapped in the moment, neither willing to break eye contact.

“I will need to be supervising the Great Hall, I can’t keep you safe if you’re not there.” He whispered, but the anger was still clinging to his voice, almost as though he wanted to grab me and drag me there himself.

“I don’t need you to protect me!” I screamed, pushing him away from me. He stared, stepping back to the door and resting his hand on the handle.

“If you insist on being outrageously stubborn in spite of reason then so be it, it can be something for you and your murderous father to bond over later.” He drawls in the same bland disinterested voice he always seemed to use, but never had with me.

I go to shout at him, to scream, but he had already swept out of the room, flourishing his cloak. The door slammed shut in his wake, locking. Realisation hit me, I charge at the door and yank at it desperately. The wood groans, but it won’t budge. I cast spell after spell until the door is smocking and black, until I exhaust everything I can think of. I am trapped.

The room began to feel as though it’s shrinking in on itself. The door in front of me unfocuses into a black and brown haze, the room around me spins into an indistinguishable wash of colours, blurring together. I can’t even stand, reaching out my hand briefly finds purchase on the chair, but it clatters to the floor as I fall backwards.

The air rushes from me, and my lungs begin to burn, air never reaching them. I heave trying desperately to get air so that the pain in my chest might fade, but it only gets worse, setting my eyes ablaze and the tears running down my face feel like molten lava. I push myself up and back, until my back hits the wall.

The world around me disappears until all I can feel is the sweat and tears running down my face, the thumping of my chest, banging against my ribs threatening to break them. Months of magical training and I can’t open a door? Ridiculous. Pathetic.

Pain blossoms at the back of my head, then nothing.

Xx

“-Alia! Dalia!” Blearily I make out the worried voice above me.

I blink, but my eyelids are heavy. A hand strokes through my hair and I try to pull away, to push whoever it is off, but everything feels slow and heavy. Something cold pushed past my lips and the pain pulsing through my head eases. With the pain dissipating I can finally see straight, the room is dark, hours must have passed and in front of me is of course Professor Snape. Forehead furrowed with concern and blood on his fingertips.

“We must stop meeting like this.” I groan, pulling myself upright and rubbing at my eyes.

“What happened?” The man asked, pushing some of the stray hair from my face. I looked at him then, face just about visible in the moonlight. It was all too much, he was too close, to tender. I batted his hand away.

“You locked me up!” I screamed scrambling away from the man who remained crouched on the floor. “How dare you! You- you had no right.” I carried on, pacing around the room while he remained speechless. My wand!? Where is my wand. I look around, it’s poking out from under the bed, I lurch for it, grabbing it and running for the door.

“Miss Black!” He shouts, but I have already fled the room. My footsteps echo as I run down the halls, breaking the eery silence that permeates the castle tonight. I get to the main doors and find a dozen huge black bars bolting it closed. I bash on the wood with my fists before spinning and sliding to the floor crying.

I can’t take this.

Once again the bat like outline of the potion master crowds my vision, this time he doesn’t reach out merely kneels in front of me. He slides a small vial towards me, glass scratching across the cobbles.

“Drink.” He says.

I can feel my hair ticking my shoulders as I shake my head.

“You’ll feel better.” He says, though he almost sounds as though he’s pleading, he then nudges the vial again so it knocks against my fingers, “Please.”

I grasp the vial in my hands and shakily pull the stopper free, letting it fall to the floor. I hesitate as the vial rests on my lips before throwing it back into my mouth and swallowing before the taste registers. Instantly I feel steadier, and the fog of fear leaves my mind.

“Thank you.” I whisper, he nods, and we remain sat there in silence.