⫶⫶⫶ ᴇ ᴅ ᴇ ʟ y ɴ ⫶⫶⫶
― Edelyn Aurélia Black learned
from a young age that h e r o e s
aren't always the ones who win.
They're the ones who fight. And
so, Edelyn fights, until the green
lying dormant beh...
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𝓞𝐧𝐞-𝓢𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐲
⟠
Edelyn winced when she left Professor Umbridge's office on Friday night. She stared at the back of her hand, where scarred the words « Cedric Diggory's death was an accident » in her nowhere-as-neat-as-Hermione's handwriting. Her face twisted and eyes narrowed. "She's fucking sick," she spat.
"Y-yeah," Harry breathed from beside her, clenching and unclenching his fist. His shoulders twitched to his ears and he pressed his fingers against the burning lightning bolt on his brow.
Edelyn watched him curiously. "Your scar," she whispered as they trudged their way back to Gryffindor Tower. "It's hurting again, isn't it?"
Harry nodded. "Started when Umbridge touched my hand earlier."
Edelyn seized his arm and pulled him into a deserted corner free of nosy portraits. "Do you think it means anything?" she spoke quietly. "I mean...last time it hurt, it meant that You-Know-Who was near, didn't it? And in first-year, when Quirrell touched you..." Her voice died off and Harry's eyes widened, a shiver running down his spine. "You don't — you don't think Umbridge could be under his control, do you?"
Edelyn knitted her brow. "Now that he has his own body back, he doesn't really need to possess anybody per se, but...But maybe she's a Death Eater?" She sighed. "I'm not sure...I think you should tell someone that your scar's hurting though."
"If you're implying Dumbledore—"
Edelyn wrinkled her nose. "No, I was thinking — um — that we could perhaps write a letter to Sirius?" She pulled down her sleeves and quickly added, "Or someone else. You know, someone who'd understand. Maybe give some advice." She shook her head. "Never mind, it was a stupid idea."
"No!" Harry half-shouted. "I — I think that's a great idea." He eagerly dug his hand into his schoolbag and pulled out a piece of parchment, a bottle of ink, and a quill. Edelyn peered over his shoulder and watched as he wrote a short message. She smiled lightly when he signed it with both their names. Blowing the ink dry, he rolled it into a small scroll and they headed to the Owlery.
"Do you...do you always call him Snuffles?" she asked curiously as he attached the letter to an average-looking barn owl.
"Or Padfoot," Harry said. "Though, he mentioned that Lucius Malfoy might know that nickname."
"Padfoot, Prongs, and Moony..." Edelyn snorted. "Bloody hell, I'm surprised no one ever found them out, especially Lu — Remus. It'd be like me calling you..." She furrowed her brows in thought. "Calling you Bolt or something."
Harry laughed. "Yeah," he said.
Their journey back to Gryffindor Tower was spent contemplating on whether Angelina Johnson was going to be harsher at practices than Oliver Wood. When they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry halted and raked his fingers through his hair. "Um...Lyn?"
