𝙋𝙍𝙊𝙇𝙊𝙂𝙐𝙀

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0. PROLOGUE

tw: descriptions of child abuse (mild) and just overall bad parenting
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The little girl had seen her mummy do incredible and wondrous things before, with that weird little stick she always carried around. Her daddy also carried one, but he never seemed to be home. When he was, the little girl would creep through the vast hallways, her footsteps echoing off the bare marble floors. Then, she would reach the door to the room her daddy always disappeared into.

Quietly, she would creek the door ajar and watch. Her daddy would stand above the weird, mangled little creature dressed in a dirty cloth that always did everything the little girl asked of it, his wooden stick pointed at the sickly creature's deformed face, snarling all kinds of mean things.

Her daddy would say something she couldn't understand, and a light would come from the tip of his stick. The creature would fall to the floor, pleading with her daddy, apologising and begging on its knees. But her daddy would continue, and the little girl would feel a spike of pity in her heart for the ugly creature whose name she didn't know. She would push open the door and look wildly at her daddy's wooden stick, and, with the blink of an eye, the stick was blasted out of his hand. Her daddy's eyes would widen, and he would dismiss the teary-eyed creature, who disappeared with a crack!

The little girl thought her daddy would be mad at her, for coming into his study when she had never been allowed to before, but instead he looked proud. That was the first time the little girl had done magic, and the first time her daddy had looked proud. She had searched for that same look ever since.

Later that evening, when her mummy was putting her to bed, the little girl asked in her small, child-like voice, "Mummy?"

"Please, Aurora. Call me mother, remember?"

"Mother?"

"Yes, girl?"

"I did something today."

Her mother rarely smiled, her face didn't seem to be made for it, but the corners of her mouth tightened. "I know. Your father told me."

"What did I do?"

Her mother stared out of the window, at the gradually setting sun and the dark clouds moving to cover its light. "Yes... Yes, I do suppose it's time." She turned back to the little girl and stared intently into her wonder-filled, grey eyes.

"You are a witch, Aurora. Just like me and your father and every person who came before us. You come from a long and ancient bloodline, girl, you should wear it with pride. But when you turn eleven and go to Hogwarts you need to be careful. There are those out there who want to taint our pure bloodline."

"What do you mean, mother? Will they hurt us?"

"I shall tell you a bedtime story. Listen closely."

The little girl lifted the deep emerald blanket up to her chin and watched her mother's sharp face with sleepy eyes. Her mother's voice wasn't made to tell stories, the little girl thought when her mother opened her mouth, but this story could have only come from her.

"Once upon a time, every person in the world could do magic. They lived happily and prosperously. Until one day, when it had rained and rained for weeks on end. Tirelessly and never-ending did the rain fall on the earth. When it stopped, all the ground had grown wet and dirty.

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐘'𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃 - wizarding worldWhere stories live. Discover now