𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐗 ☽ Harry Potter

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧

SEVERED TIES 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

     The world had become consumed by a furious blaze of red, hot anger. Fire crackled in the air bringing out scents of burning sulfur and phosphorus.

     Iphigenia Rosamund Black was boiling with rage. She was far beyond that cliff of control. Her magic was a live flame burning off of accelerants as she marched her way toward the dungeons. Anyone who walked past her knew not to interfere. First years jumped out of the way and eyes followed her with a mixture of curiosity and fear. 

     Her hair had turned an incandescent color of orange and red. The strands billowing with the cool breeze in the dungeons, making it look like the girl had a head of fire. The beautiful features of her face were contorted into a nasty scowl. Her silver eyes alive with the simmering wrath that filled her veins.

     The wounds on her face and neck made her look vicious. Like a wounded angel ready to join another duel to the death. She didn't dare hold her wand. It was the only sensible thing she had the forethought of. Not wanting to risk hurting anyone unintentionally.

     Her head, however, was filled with weapons of words that were sputtering out of her in muttered spats.

     Severus Snape had no clue he was the prey being perused.

     The Potions Professor was found in his office. Casually looking over students exams. Not a hint of culpability or penitence on his face.

     It only enraged Iphigenia even more.

     She opened his office door with a strength not suitability for her age or stature. Its hinges rattling as it slammed against the stone wall of her uncle's office. The guilty man merely looked up with mild shock. Annoyance creeping into his face as he took in his nieces appearance. Heightened emotions was one of Snape's vexations.

     "Iphigenia, what do you want? I'm quite—"

     He was quickly interrupted by his niece who spoke in a vicious voice. One that proved how much influence the Malfoy family had over her.

     "How dare you! You miserable, arrogant, loathsome, sorry excuse of a wizard!"

     Snape stood up at the outburst. His own anger rising at the onslaught of insults.

     "Iphigenia —" he said in a warning tone. But he was interrupted again.

     "Remus Lupin is a man of honor and respect! He has done nothing all year but be a phenomenal mentor and an even better professor! But you had to go and snatch it away from him!"

    "Lupin is a risk—"

     "And the same could be said about you! I'd even care to wager that there is more blood on your hands than Lupin's. Least we forget which side of the war you chose to be on, Uncle." 

     The word uncle had been said with such disgust and hatred, Iphigenia's tongue felt dirty with guilt. Later, she would realize how low she had fallen in bringing up her uncle's past. When Iphigenia learned of what exactly her Uncle Severus and Lucius' forearm tattoos meant, she had remembered going home to her mother. Crying tears in fear because, shouldn't they be in prison? Did they kill good people? Why was she able to have normal dinners with men who fully supported a genocidal maniac?