It Haunts me
Before leaving your humble cottage, you glanced over your darker appearance. Taller heals, your hands wrapped in black medical tape, and mask acting as a façade to your identity. The hidden blade rested alongside your thigh as you apparated skilfully to the bustling hallway to the Ministry of Magic. Gradually emerging with a thick trail of smoke behind you, seeping out of the corners and eyes of your mask as you begin your strut towards your intended destination, the office of a particular man. Finally appearing fully from the cascade of smoke, the witches, and wizards around you gradually pull each other from the hallway, parting away from your focused path. With a huff the last of the smoke exits your nostrils, your presence becoming heard by the swift and confident clicks of your heels atop the marble flooring beneath you. Whispers and gasps surround you as you make way to the large statue situated in the middle of the main floor, pausing to eventually find the location of the elevators—you make your way to the shaft. Once inside the small transportation device, the other commuters within the elevator swiftly exit, leaving you to yourself. Unsurprised, as the doors draw to a close, they leave you to face yourself in a mirror—staring back at yourself you view your suit pants, blouse, and suit jacket all adorned in black covering your body. Your black mask similar to that of the death eaters, except for its distinctive red crack which many witches and wizards murmur about to this day when word of your sightings breaks out.
Your intentions clear for this visitation, to find one of the faces which scar you. Just one. One of the many men who were in that room with you as a helpless child, offering you to the evil fate of the dark lord. Just a sacrifice. But since your survival, it has been their mistake. Their grave mistake which has caused each of their smug smiles to fade as news of their fellow clan members death’s chase after them, closer, and closer. Close to the end of your hunt, a slight giddiness graces you as you exhale, stepping off the elevator with a ding.
As you drag your hand across the velvety walls of the hallway, approaching quietly, a ringing is heard from the far office. “She’s here?!” A man’s voice frantically gasps as he answers the phone. Upon swiftly hanging up, muffled ‘oh Merlin’s’ escape his voice as frantic footsteps pace around the room, as he attempted to plan an escape or diversion in the midst of his panic. She’s here. Once they’ve been found, there is no escape… No matter how far you run. To the ends of the Earth, I will hunt you down.
Standing at the door of the office, lightly clutching your dagger, the man turns to face you. His face devoid of colour as though he has seen the devil himself. This is what you created. After lifting your sleeve, you lightly drag your dagger down your forearm to the base of your wrist. Drop, drop, drop. Blood seeps into the carpet as the terrified man awaits his fate. Swiftly, echoes of spirits fill the room, as ghost like figures emerge from your blood, like beasts from the depths of hell—they crawl towards the man as he pleads, muffled screams now drowning amidst the struggle of his breaths.
As the spirits do your work, you turn and calmly walk back towards the elevator. With a soft sigh, you bask in the slight joy of revenge as you become one step closer to your vengeance of the wrongdoings forced upon you only as a child. As the cries come to a silence, and blood stains your trail behind you, your spirits return to your being. The deed is done. Blood for blood.
With the return of the elevator, the shaft doors creek open. Greeted with the presence of a few standing wizards, you enter the elevator once more. However, the people do not exit this time. Unbothered, the ride is silent. Whilst once more gazing at the mirror in front of you, you notice the people seem younger, much younger. What looks like a teenage boy makes eye contact with you, he quickly darted his eyes away upon the realisation. Despite your intimidating appearance, the boy—who sported a round pair of glasses and dark brown hair cleared his throat.
“Excuse me… Ma’am?” He muttered.
Turning slightly with surprise towards his initiation in conversation, you glance slightly down to the boy… he seems familiar.
“You seem to be bleeding.” He whispered, pointing in a small action towards your left hand.
Looking down towards your hand, as you watched the crimson trails of blood swim down and jump off the ends of your fingertips, dropping onto the carpet of the elevator, you clear your throat.
“Yes, it appears so.” Your smooth voice almost startles the boy. Returning to avert your gaze back to the screen displaying the location of the traveling elevator, you notice more whispers.
“Harry! Shut it!” A young girl states next to the boy ever so quietly, grabbing his arm and pulling him to the back of the elevator. More peeps of “Don’t you know who that is?!” travel to your ears from the back of the traveling box. Dismissing the interaction, you swiftly escape the elevator upon the opening of the doors once more, resuming your strut as the familiar trail of dark smoke appears before you and takes you in. Leaving without a trace, you never thought this day would occur to you again.
The loud bell of the clock snaps your attention back to the present day, as you avert your gaze to the time and realize you had been stuck in your memories again. Sighing, you wrap up your lesson plans due to it being midnight and snuff out the soft glow of the candle accompanying you on your spruce desk. Quietly, you change into your night robes and curl up into the warm and engulfing blankets of your large bed. The quietness almost seemed loud, except for the few crackles and pops of the ambers dying in the fireplace, your mind travels to the other soul in the dungeons. Whilst absentmindedly stroking the scar on your arm, you wonder what the potions master a few walls away from you is doing. Huffing, you tightly close your eyes, hushing your mind as you attempt to catch a few winks of sleep before the first day of the school year.
Little did you know, whilst silent in the calmness and cold stillness of the dungeons. Just a few walls away… Severus’s thoughts were only of you.