xv. From Dusk Till Dawn

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FIFTEEN FROM DUSK TILL DAWN

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      THE SKY IS PURE WHITE, as Holly opens her eyes, the brightness making her squint. Her eyes begin to adjust to the light and she recognises the castle walls, the old alcoves with the Deathly Hallows etched below the seats. Her heart jolts and a sense of fear begins to grow in her stomach, as she looks down at herself, spotting her old school uniform, and thinks aloud, "Why am I back here?"

       Because everything is different. Durmstrang was never light like this, Durmstrang had always been dark, dark, dark. The lightest the sky could be was a murky light-grey, never the sort of white the UK tends to have most days. But the castle walls are darker than what they used to be, contrasting heavily with the bright sky beyond the school's corridor. She glances at the Deathly Hallows mark in the alcove, which weirdly looks like someone's painted the indents of the carving with the same pure white as the sky. Holly looks down. Even her pale skin's a massive contrast to her dark school uniform.

       "I'm supposed to be dead," she says, her brows furrowing. Part of her hopes that if she speaks aloud, then maybe she'll see Susannah, maybe someone will appear. For a second she begins to worry that the last three years have been a dream, and that she didn't die, she woke up. But then that brings the question of how is she standing in a corridor — if it was a dream, she would've opened her eyes and found herself lying down, in a bed, not here. Not metres away from her old Dark Arts classroom... Not metres away from one of the many Deathly Hallows markings made by students copying Grindelwald.

       So she's dead, she has to be. There's no other option, is there? She can't be dreaming. This is all real, she can feel that. Dreams never feel this solid, they're always a little clouded.

       But if this is the afterlife... "Why here?" she asks.

       She hopes someone will answer her question. None of this makes sense. But, part of her feels worried at the idea of someone else appearing here. She knows of one dead person associated with this place, and she'd rather not see Karkaroff any time soon... But her mother killed him, maybe she'll see her... She doesn't want that, either.

       Holly's brows furrow, but she's still stuck to the spot. It's scaring her, being back here. And the idea of this being her eternity makes her sick to her stomach. She thought she was starting to move away from this place, she can't spend the rest of existence in this hellhole.

       She grimaces, crossing her arms, and her gaze falls onto that damned Deathly Hallows marking again. That weird-ass depiction of Death from that stupid fucking fairytale could come and explain whatever the hell this is, and I'd be grateful.

       "You shouldn't be here."

       "Whoa, what?"

       Holly spins around, and, wouldn't you know it, 'that weird-ass depiction of Death from that stupid fucking fairytale' stands in the middle of the corridor, a black mist in the shape of the grim reaper. She's frozen.

Holliday, Dearest ━ Harry Potter (2)Where stories live. Discover now