⫶⫶⫶ 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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𝓐𝓑𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤'𝐬 𝓦𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐡
⟠
Edelyn's fingers clutched at the golden snitch hung around her neck, teeth biting down on her bottom lip as she followed Harry along with the others into the Ministry of Magic. Goosebumps dotted her skin and her body shivered in an attempt to recover from the cold winds that had blown through her hair as they rode to London on skeletal winged-horses she could not see.
The Ministry was eerily quiet, the silence broken only by their hurried footsteps as they walked through the dimly-lit corridors and descended down stone staircases until finally, they stepped foot into the Department of Mysteries. It was a circular room with various doors, and after the fourth try, they opened one that led to a room with beautiful, dancing, diamond-sparkling light.
"This is it!" said Harry, seeing the tall shelves that lined the room, stacked with glowing orbs.
"You said it was row ninety-seven?" whispered Hermione.
"Yeah," breathed Harry, looking at the end of the closest row that had a glimmering silver figure fifty-three.
"We need to go right, I think," whispered Hermione. "Yes...that's fifty-four."
With their wands held aloft, they crept forward down the long alleys of shelves, and Edelyn's stomach twisted into a terrible knot as they passed row eighty-four and row eighty-five. Something didn't feel right; they were approaching their destination, yet there were no sounds apart from the rustling of their clothes and shuffling of their feet.
"Ninety-seven!" Hermione pointed out, and they grouped together at the end of the row, gazing down the alley.
A shudder ran down Edelyn's spine.
Nobody was in sight.
"I...I don't understand. He — he should be here," Harry muttered, his eyes gazing into nothingness and heart plummeting into the pit of his stomach as his wand dropped to his side. "He was right...right here..."
Edelyn's teeth clamped down harder on her lip, hand reaching down to grip her right thigh as it twitched relentlessly in nerves. The piercing silence that followed his words was broken by Ron as he approached one of the dusty glass spheres on the shelves. "Bloody hell..." he exhaled.
Turning his head, Harry's gaze landed on a yellowish label affixed to the shelf right beneath the dusty glass sphere that Ron was pointing at. "It's got my name on it," he muttered, and in an act recklessness, stretched out his hand and closed his fingers around the orb, breath hitching in his chest as the glass glowed with warmth. Before he could give the mysterious object a better look, however, a vaguely familiar voice pierced through the still air.
"Very good, Potter. Now turn around, nice and slowly, and give that to me."
Hearts momentarily stopping, the seven of them spun around and their eyes widened as they were met with a dozen lit wand tips pointing directly at their chests, their owners dressed in black cloaks, faces hidden behind masks.
