Raised as an orphan, Nel Saintday, endured years of torture from the Slytherin House. The Dark Lord only allowed her existence for her to serve a very specific vile purpose for him. Her birthright dictates for her to choose a side in the Wizarding W...
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Cokeworth.
An isolated miserable place to hide.
Located in the Midlands, Cokeworth had once been a town bustling with industry just over a century ago. Now, most dark brick houses were deserted. There were many broken streetlamps, a polluted river nearby which was the color of mud and an abandoned mill. The chimneys in town ran on coal and made the already cloudy sky tint with black smoke.
The streets themselves were empty and were usually kept dim due to the broken streetlamps. Besides most of the elderly that lived in the area Nel hadn't spotted any wizards in this deserted town.
It had been hard surviving on her own without the use of magic, but Elowen had managed. She thought of herself now more than ever like a weed. An ugly plant able to grow and thrive in the forgotten cracks of the world. If she had grown a rose, prim and proper, like the other Slytherin girls she would've been wilted a long time ago.
She scavenged the inside of a trashcan digging for scraps of food or goods she could sell or trade to other members of the homeless community. Most of these people self-medicated with drugs or alcohol in hopes of dealing with their traumatic experiences. Nel on the other hand mouthed spells she hoped to eventually master with a nonverbal ability. She had nothing but time to rehearse the practice of occlumency and had taken up the nasty habit of smoking street cigarettes.
Poverty-stricken, filthy, with a bad tooth and finding shelter under the shade of an old woman's porch, regardless of her circumstances. Anything was better than Wool's Orphanage.
"I'm afraid with no legal guardian, you are to return under the Guardianship of Ms. Cordelia Wool," Dumbledore had said to her.
Nel turned on her other side meditating on the unpleasant memory. Dumbledore had summoned Elowen to his office after the incidents of the TriWizard Tournament and Cedric's death.
Nel was numb to all emotion. Her face was swollen and tear stained from the turbulent last hours she had experienced. Cedric was dead. She had survived an abduction and Draco had confessed his feelings for her.
"Professor," She paused stumbling on her words. She didn't even bother register the news of having to return to Wool's for the summer. "Is there a spell to bring the dead back to life?"
With his hands held behind his back Dumbledore turned to look at Nel with unease. He stood by the fireplace looking down at the crackling flames in a pensive matter.
"Necromancy is a branch of magic that has never quite worked."
"I'll make it work," She said determinedly. Her eyes remaining glued to the wooden floor.
"What even is magic? What- or who decides who or what is magical? Why can't muggles do magic?"
Dumbledore paused. The two of them, they were more alike than they knew. Like Nel, the Dark Lord was a notable practitioner of this branch of Dark Magic.
