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chapter fifteen. ( the death tournament )
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ASCELLA BLACK SPENT THE DAYS LEADING UP TO SEPTEMBER FIRST secluded in her bedroom, books scattered around her silk-covered bed, and scorching cups of tea cast aside, small rings of liquid in their wake. Nothing could compare to the comfort of her own bedroom, the warm, lilac walls and soft pillows a place she never would like to leave.
After the catastrophic events at the Quidditch World Cup, Ascella had been yearning to be embraced by her Mother's arms. Hardly a minute after Mr Weasley delivered a Patronus to Seraphina Laurent, she arrived on the scene, a distraught expression on her defined face.
The days slowly went by, the heated weather settling in the atmosphere and replaced with a much more cooler one, the power of the wind increasing. Bits of belongings were placed back in her trunk, the thought of going back to Hogwarts for her fourth year exhilarating yet nerve-wracking.
A low rap on Ascella's door alerted her, shouting a small 'come in!' Seraphina entered, her blonde strands of golden hair clipped to the back of her head, her arms folded across her chest.
"Hiya, Sweetheart," she greeted. "You alright?"
"Hi, Mum," Ascella sighed. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"Still thinking about the other night?" she wondered gently, not wanting to resurface the memory in Ascella's mind.
"No . . . well, I'm trying not to, but it's just hard," she admitted quietly. "Malfoy said if Dad was alive, he'd be out there too . . . is that right?" Her voice was soft, timid; it was like she was a child once more, wondering when her Dad was coming home.
