The Quiet Kind Of Beauty -Marauder Era

Chapter 29

The next couple of days passed by as if nothing had happened. Clara pretended she didn't discover her father was dabbling in dark magic, or as if she hadn't cried into Aaron's shoulders. As if she didn't see the pile of pure white wings dripping golden ichor behind her eyelids every time she blinked. Clara was walking the line between reality and illusion, only she didn't know which side was which anymore.

Currently, she sat on her knees, on the floor of her room. It was midday; her curtains were pulled aside, sunlight illuminating every dark corner of her room. She felt the warmth engulf her like a blanket, eyes lost in the sky, birds singing in her mind.

Summertime had never felt so sad.

Clara shook herself out of her thoughts. She returned her focus to her shiny school thunk in front of her. Littered around her body were piles of her belongings, which she had sorted into objects she'd keep, and those she was willing to throw away. She continued shifting through her school supplies, removing textbooks one by one, turning the shiny covers over in her hands. This past, one filled with historic hallways and messy dorm rooms, seemed as if it existed an eternity ago.

Clara felt a pang in her chest.

Tomorrow, she reminded herself, pulling her mind together. As she continued to pull away at the layers of her trunk, the pile of items she wished to keep grew larger and larger. After a slight debate, she placed her Defense Against the Dark Arts book in the 'keep' pile, just in case, the dark cover still glossy. Her bag sat in the corner, the end of her red and gold Gryffindor scarf dangling out of the outer pocket. Clara took it out and set it at the top of the massive pile, opened the zipper, and stuck her hand into the largest pocket. Her fingers brushed rolls of parchment paper, a quill and... she furrowed her eyebrows. Her hand touched something smooth and warm. Something that sent a shock down her arm.

She pulled it out, and felt her stomach clench.

The silver cover of The Most Powerful Beings of Time: History Uncovered seemed to glow in her hands.

Goosebumps rose over her arms. When she blinked, she saw golden ichor pool around her. In the back of her mind she saw a face, felt ice on her eyelids.

Clara's hands begin to tremble. How? She raced. I didn't even remember this until now -

Before she could process the events unfolding before her, she opened the book, sweat collecting above her brow. She flipped through the history of the fallen Angels, the origin of wizards, until she found the picture she was looking for.

And there he was, as cold as he appeared in her dreams.

Belial looked hauntingly beautiful.

His eyes are grey, Clara protested weakly, not golden. But...

Everything else was the same, all the way down to his bold eyebrows and the beauty mark on his left jaw, below his ear.

She forced herself to take a breath, filling her lungs until they refused to take anymore. Think, she told herself. This has to mean something. This is not a coincidence.

And, in the back of her mind, she heard his voice.

The clues are already in front of you.

Before she could go further, there was a sharp rap on the door. "Ms. Campbell?" Bailiwick muffled voice questioned. "Your father requests you,"

"Coming!" Clara managed, her lips refusing to form the words.

With frantic movements, she got to her feet and hurried to her dresser. Pulling her t-shirt drawer open, she stuffed the book between her clothing before slamming the drawer shut. She made a mental note to put the book in her 'to keep' pile later.