COMPLETE; don't read if you want fluffy, out-of-character tom.
18+
In 1926, Grindelwald is captured for the first time by Newt Scamander, making his followers go into hiding. The Petrov family, an ancient pure-blood eastern European family, is forc...
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CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
"Petrov..."
The window pushed open slightly, a deep creek resonating through the hazy room, and the bony hand clutched on the edge as it pulled itself up, dragging its severed body through the opening. A trail of dirty blood graced the side of the Nott manor, but whether it was a nightmare or reality was uncertain, and yet the torn ligaments that caught in the ajar window stuck tenaciously.
A crow's poem amplified and rippled through the midnight, right before the creature seized its neck and crushed it. Hard...hard...hard. Its horrifying outcry permeated the air, and its umbra danced in the moonlight as it grappled in its final moments, right before its head was pulverized into a puddle of cerebrum matter and cardinal liquid, spilling from long claws.
It feasted on the bird's flesh grotesquely, gore pooling from fangs as it gnawed on bones and swallowed them all together. Its whalebone skin was hanging open in patches, and its muscles were exposed to the darkness as they moved toward the hallway.
The old wood rasped under Varya's bare feet, and the girl trudged along the cryptic corridor, shadows spilling from each corner onto the floor and then slinking through cracks. Her nightgown pooled around her knees, white as the snow of December, and sooty locks fell in heaps on her back. She stopped in front of the mirror by one of the large portraits and leaned in to look at herself.
It was her skin she saw, her eyes, and yet she felt more a phantom than a human— her epidermis was translucent, and she saw pulsating veins underneath as they pressed against the soft barrier, almost as if begging to burst open at the high pressure; her eyes were bloodshot, cardinal irises of madness and sanguine. One of her eyes no longer had eyelashes, and it moved on its own erratically, scanning the room in a panic.
Somewhere along the hallway, something moved, and she saw a figure dart through the shadows, but as Varya tried to grab at it, it vanished into nothingness. A door stood ajar at the end of the corridor, and her legs moved towards it slowly, surely. A being trailed behind her, or above her— it mattered not. All she knew is that it was watching her.
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