In 1891, Victor Rookwood becomes successful in his plan. After Y/n fails to save her only guardian, Professor Eleazar Fig, and also fails to protect the Repository - Rookwood becomes allies with the most Pureblood families in the Wizarding World to...
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Days Before
Y/n's Perspective
I didn't know what to expect from Cyndra Gaunt's presence that morning in the Gaunt Gardens.
"Mother," I can hear Marvolo's tone of voice adjust at his mother's sight, "I bring to you Miss Y/n Y/l/n." He bowed, letting go of my wrist.
Perhaps, there was still time to run now. Escape this madness and get myself killed along the way. The gardens seemed like a maze anyway. There was hope.
Except for the fact that I held a chip buried beneath my skin that controlled every movement of myself now. It was a living nightmare.
Cyndra Gaunt set down the cup of tea she held between her spiked red painted nails and let the spoon click against the small table beneath her.
"Ah, as I hoped for," The blonde gave a mischievous grin, watching me intensely.
I felt targeted, causing me to avoid proper contact with her, and looked down at my wrist.
"My handsome first-born, you may dismiss," Cyndra extended her hand at him.
I witnessed Marvolo place a proper kiss on his mother's hand before nodding and dismissing himself.
"Mother, I'll see you soon."
I watched as Marvolo's dark figure began to disappear between the bushes and trees from the garden. His black hair swayed one last time before he was gone.
"Sit." Cyndra ordered me.
Without words, I swallowed, slowly taking a seat on the white metal chair across from her in the small circular tea table and letting my body rest.
For once, it felt nice to rest after a long crucial morning. I didn't know how many opportunities I was going to have to even sit properly, so I took the chances now when given.
I watched Cyndra Gaunt's left hand come upwards with a real wood wand, pointing it at the table and conjuring a tea cup similar to hers.
Her wand slid the cup, steam rising gently from its surface as the scent of chamomile and lavender warned my nose.
"The morning is young," Cyndra let out, placing her wand in her lap and using her other hand to take a sip of her own tea.
Her stare was fixed intently on my own, and the curiosity in her pale grey was palpable.
I didn't know whether to touch my own tea cup or not. It would've been disrespectful of me if I didn't, but the truth within a Gaunt seemed risky.
