𝕸𝖆𝖈𝖆𝖇𝖗𝖊 ➳ 𝙃.𝙋

16

[16]

Order of the Fried Chicken

The wind blew softly onto her face as she sat alone on the hill, the moon overlooking her pale bony face. Her crystalline eyes were bright in the darkness, her lashes opening and closing with a constant speed. They were long and black, curled to perfection.

Perfection. That was a word she had heard way too often. It was entirely ironic.

Crunch. The only sound she heard was a soft crunch in the twigs behind her before she was roughly pushed. Before she hit the ground, she quickly muttered a spell slowing down the fall. A smirk appeared. She paused and waited for the next attack again.

With a little flash of silver, she leaned to her right, missing the knife by centimeters. Closing her eyes, she reached her hand out. Muttering another spell under her breath, she felt the blade slow down. Watching the silver light buzz past her eyes, she closed her hand tightly, feeling the wooden handle now in her hand. Turning sharply, with all her strength, she threw the knife back to where it came from.

She heard a loud gasp from the attacker. Swishing her wand, the attacker flew out of the darkness, right onto the ground below her. A smirk appeared on her face, her adrenaline burst, obscuring the loud thumping of her heartbeat. Under her breath, she chanted softly, "accio vocare hominum, accio vocare hominum, accio vocare hominum."

A surge of dark magic spirited through the air. A gust of wind blew forcefully, carrying and throwing the intruder right in front of the girl. She smiled in satisfaction. It was a new spell she had been working on for a while.

Waving her wand, the mask of the intruder flew away, revealing an unfamiliar face. The intruder looked to be around forty, or perhaps an already greying thirty. She waved her wand again, the branches waved and patterned themselves around the intruder's body. Bending down crushing onto his legs, one hand pointed her wand to his throat, and another around his neck. "Who are you?"

He began choking but Persephone had put no pressure around his neck. Suicidal poison, it was common in people who have tried to kill her. He must have had poison in his teeth. Swiftly and in the most practiced manner, she pulled out the knife in his chest, covered it with one of her knees to block the blood flow, and waved her wand hand at his throat. Identifying the poison, she quickly poured a black vial of liquid down his throat.

"Speak," she demanded.

He did not make a sound.

Amused at his lack of reaction, she said, "one last chance."

"Speak. Or I'll do it for you." When he did not speak, she slowly swished her hand on his neck, "legilimens."

"On the behalf of the order of the phoenix, fuck you."

"..."

A few hours later, at the very crack of dawn, Draco found a message Persephone left for him at his bedside. Bouncing up immediately, he shook his head.

"Did you kill him?" Draco mouthed anxiously as he walked quickly towards where Persephone and Blaise sat in the Great Hall. It was six am in the morning, they were the only people there. Persephone had been flipping the pages of a new book she had begun to read and Blaise was eating the garlic bread he had taken from the kitchen a few minutes ago.

Persephone didn't answer, a bored look on her face. Blaise shoved a piece of bread into Draco's mouth.

"Persephone, did you kill him?" His sound was only slightly muffled by the bread.

She shared a look with Blaise and shrugged in response.