’You look awesome today.’
Did she really? Was that just one of those things Tavy said because he was her brother and he wanted to see her happy? Hadriana Pursglove was no stranger to receiving compliments on her appearance, as such things came almost as a given when being a girl in a society like the one they had been raised in. It was like when people said ‘How are you?’ to each other; no one ever cared about the response, and no one ever expected to hear anything that wasn’t positive and easily to dismiss as the conversation went on. A thousand people may have told her she was pretty in her lifetime, and she still was unsure if she believed any of them, but she did believe Octavius, for she knew all too well that even if he was wrong and she did not look awesome at all, he believed she did, much alike the way she believed that those little pumpkins on his head looked adorable with the way they bobbed as he walked. “Thank you. Though a fairy costume isn’t very original, is it?” She admitted, allowing herself a gentle giggle as she reached up to poke one of those pumpkins, watching the way it swung back and forth before her gaze set on her brother’s. “I could have made you a costume too, you know? It’s your last Halloween at Hogwarts, isn’t it supposed to be memorable?” Despite her words, there was no reproach in her tone, for Hadriana also knew exactly why Octavius had not even bothered with such a thought.
If only she had known exactly why
that Halloween was going to be memorable. If only she had been able to guess what kind of terrible nightmares awaited them as they stepped into those catacombs that should not have even been there to begin with. Yet Hadriana was no diviner or seer, and all she could rely on were her intuitions. Those same intuitions that pushed her to move closer to her brother, that made her voice shake as she held onto him in a desperation ever so silent. He asked her to move, to go back to the stairs, but not a single step was taken by her shimmering ballet flat - those which had been covered in purple glitter just for that evening. She felt weak, frail
, like those porcelain dolls that could so easily break, quite sure that she would fall to the ground if she dared take a step. She wanted to call out to Octavius, to ask to leave with her, but before words could be spoken, darkness came.
“Tavy?” The young witch called out, and she watched him when the light returned, watched him as he called out her name in increasing distress. Could he not hear her? Could he not see that she was right there? “Tavy? What’s wrong?” She asked then, wishing she could move, wishing she could reach out and take her brother out of that place. There was something else, and one hesitant step was taken forward as the boy dropped to his knees.
It was then when she saw it
, and oh how she wished she had not seen a thing. A chill ran down her spine, eyes growing wide as she attempted to understand exactly what
was the scene she was looking at at those moments. No, she knew
, because it was the same image that had stared back at her from the other side of a mirror that afternoon. Herself. Paler, fallen onto the ground like a puppet with no puppeteer in sight. She looked broken...no, she looked dead
, and the realization made her stomach twist and turn, trying to stop those increasing feeling of nausea that made her want to throw up her dinner as she reached out to support herself on the wall. But it was not the wall that her hand touched, instead something smooth and cold, round, a skull of yellowed teeth that stared at her through those dark hollowed cavities where eyes had one been. Her breath hitched, immediately jerking back and holding her own hand. Why? Why was all that happening? Hot tears rolled down her cheeks, likely ruining the makeup she no longer could concern herself with. In the distance, she could hear the sound of Tavy’s pained cries, and it was a sound that brought her back to reality, wondering when was the last time he had heard such despair in the voice of that boy she loved so much. Never
, because Octavius Pursglove could not afford to show such pain, not in front of her.
It hurt her. It angered her, and it also filled her with concern. Nothing about that made sense, and no matter how many times she said her brother’s name, it seemed her voice was never heard. “Tavy.
Tavy, please…” the girl whispered hopelessly, her own voice interrupted by sobbing as she moved closer, looking away from the fallen body that looked so much like her. It could not be here, she was not dead.
“Tavy. Tavy, I’m here, please look at me.” She begged, feeling how cold the ground was against her bare knees as she kneeled in front of him, trembling hands placed on his cheeks. “It will be alright, it’s all a bad dream.” But was it really? What other explanation could there be? She did not understand it, and she did not care for understand at all, gaze so fixed on her brother that she almost did not notice when the corpse between them disappeared, when it turned into a darkness that shifted its shape into something else. There was a sound, new and different yet one that was familiar: heels inpatiently tapping onto hard floors.
” Once again, she struggled to breath, for the voice was cold, one she could not forget no matter how many months had passed, one that haunted her nights more often than not. Tears fell onto her dress and as she turned to face the person addressing her, she did not wipe them away, for she could barely even move, her hands dropping from Octavius’ face. There, in that room that was so filled with reminders of death, was Phillipa Pursglove, her heels being the only remnant of her usual elegant clothes, instead wearing a simple striped dress that looked worn out and old; her blonde hair was not in tied up as it once had been, instead messy and full of knots, and no makeup adorning her hateful expression as she looked down at that girl she was supposed to love. She looked different, yet it was still her, still the woman who had taken everything away from them. Her wand was in hand, and behind her, there was a corpse. “It has been long. I expected you to visit me long ago.”
“Mum,” she greeted, but only terror filled her voice. @Octavius Pursglove