ghostbusters, harry potter

prologue.

ADMITTING THAT CAMILA DRUELLA LESTRANGE was a cursed girl was an understatement. or at least, that's what she had been proven her entire life. 

indeed, one can say that as life goes on, all things must fade. However, camila's own existence was a constant reminder of that—the very inevitability of death. 

camila lestrange had been fading for years. As had the inner little girl she used to be. As had any trace of her mother in her heart, because she couldn't risk caring for a woman who never stayed. Each day is haunted by a hint of decay. And in camila's eyes, to live is to cheat, lie, and risk it all before being taken away by Death. 

When she first stepped foot at Hogwarts—wearing the blemished last name of a family of killers—the entire personnel knew that the lestrange was a disturbed child.

because CAMILA DRUELLA LESTRANGE feels everything. all the time. 

when camila was a little girl, she seemed to see and hear things that simply only existed in her mind. wether she was caught projecting her voice into thin air, staring at walls, or bursting out of rooms when she sensed souls to heavy for her small heart to bear—hogwarts' teachers watched with worry as they all wondered if little camila was slowly going down the steps of her mother. 

but she'd protest, and scream, and cry, and do anything to convince the people around her that she wasn't crazy and that the things (or people) she saw and heard were very much real. after weeks of rude whispers and stares, her head of house—professor snape—was finally the first adult to take a good look at the young girl's troubled mind. perhaps he felt pity for her. or perhaps he was only doing his rightful job and the shivers that little camila felt down her spine when he gently touched at her with his fatherly hands was nothing but another side-effect of her lonely upbringing. 

one cold morning of 1991, sitting in the professor's office, camila watched him brew a potion in silence. today was the day. indeed, a few months into her first year at hogwarts, the final diagnostic—to everyone's surprise—had nothing to do with insanity. 

'you have a gift,' would say snape, 'a very dangerous gift. for you can see the spirits of those who have died.' 

little camila stared at the man mouth agape—repeating that cursed word 'gift' in her mind like a loop. camila lestrange could fucking speak to the dead and yet she still had people around her telling her she's not crazy. if casually conversing with ghosts isn't insanity, then the word has lost all meaning. little camila could not bear this. and snape was very much aware. 

she could remember his exact words.

'you shall not speak of this to anyone. ever. for the wrong people might get in your, small, vulnerable mind, and use it to their advantage.' 

(camila understood years later that by saying 'the wrong people' he meant the death eaters, and ultimately, her family and legal guardians.)

'you must drink of this potion each night.'  he grabbed a phial, filled it with potion from his cauldron, and ordered the girl to finish it. 

from then on, her mind had gone quiet. for camila had lost her momento mori.

that, up until one morning of september 1998.