Black stained
Chapter 1: Out of the Shadows
The black scratched wood hurt her knees, but she didn't notice.
Too tired to let her mind wander to the physical pain, the other was hurting her more, the mental pain. Mentally she was tired and pained by the battle she can hardly remember now.
It had been chaos, absolute chaos. Once the body-bind curse inflicted by her headmaster had finally worn off and she felt the tears stream from her cheeks into oblivion after Dumbledore down to the grounds, she screamed running off giving away her position. He had warned her, he had.
He now wasn't there anymore to help her. No, he was gone. She felt like crying again, but wouldn't cry in front of them. no, she told herself, keep your head high, don't show them any weakness, you're a Gryffindor! She opened her eyes and tried to take in the room she was in.
But it was too dark and her long hair fell annoyingly like curtains over her face. Her hands bound in something made of leather, disabling her hands to remove her hair from her face and –frightening enough- of using magic. She felt her magic, which always felt tingling and warm, being removed and only leaving the darkness and cold feeling, the feeling of dark magic. Biting the tips of her fingers, scratching her whenever she tried to move, in other words: it held her captive, in a cage of invisible pain and destruction. She had never been parted with her magic before and in that moment it was what pained her the most. She shivered, trying to focus on something else.
Trying to recall what had happened that evening, Aral didn't notice the pair of eyes observing her, from head to toe. She vaguely remembered Harry staring for a moment, but nothing more, she already had started to run after the monster responsible for her headmasters -her mentor and friend- death. She ran through spells and curses, now she thought about it she was lucky not to be hit by any of them. She saw someone lying on the ground, but didn't check who it was and if he or she was still alive. No, she had been filled with grieve, not leaving any room to worry for someone else. She found herself running through the front doors of Hogwarts, which were opened and led in the cold wind and the sound of someone laughing hysterically.
Aral knew the voice and hatred filled her heart, burning her insides. Following the voice outside she ended up running towards the forbidden forest. She lost track of the death eaters she followed and ran around, trying to find something to do, to be useful. She felt awfully useless, not fighting anyone, she had lost this fight. Didn't protect anyone, not Dumbledore, not Sirius, not any of the lives the death eaters have taken. But Harry, a voice inside her said, he's still here, fighting for a cause. You must help him, he's your brother! Her feet stopped running around as if nailed to the ground. Silently she watched over the grounds to Hogwarts, it seemed to wake up, more lights popping up from the windows every second. The tears started to freeze on her cheeks, but she wasn't crying anymore. Suddenly she felt stupid, for leaving her brother alone, for running after people she wouldn't be able to catch, leaving everyone to fight while she was staring outside of the castle. She felt guilt and anger flowing all over her in big waves and started sprinting back. After a few minutes she reduced her speed to almost walking –although still fast- realising she wasn't able to breath anymore.
When she arrived at the staircase where the fight was still going on, although less fervidly, she took out her wand and screamed spells and hexes at every death eater she could see. A bright red head was near Aral and she realised it was Ginny, skilfully fighting off one of the black cloaked turned and her eyes locked onto Aral's, she didn't notice that the death eater prepared for cursing her. Aral quickly shot the first spell popping in her mind at the death eater, only her anger had increased the power off the spell, sweeping him of his feet and throwing him at the wall behind him, knocking him out with a loud crack. Some death eaters and members of the order, including some students, turned their heads at the newest fighter joining the battle. More than one death eaters turned to her and fired spells at her. This turn of events made her create a protective shield in the form of a dome around her and Ginny, who had joined her side. It took a lot of her strength and she wouldn't be able to keep the shield up. With pleading eyes she looked at Ginny, words were not needed, Ginny understood and gripped her wand tighter and helped some people on their feet again. The order and students rallied, side by side against the death eaters. New energy flowing through their veins and body. Adrenaline rushing, making their hands tremble. For a moment everyone stood still, glaring angrily at their enemy. Furious, afraid, sad, brave, looking forward on the soon coming fight or pained. Aral can't see who is standing by her side, but didn't care at that moment. A feeling started growing inside her, a swelling feeling of combativeness and control. She wanted to fight, now more than ever. She slowly took a step and another, 'You,' another step, 'Will not,' She increased her speed, 'win this fight!' enclosing on the group of dark cloaked figures. Once those words left her lips, the spells took over and different colours of spells filled the darkened sky. The walls coloured with every devastating, stunning and terribly green curse and could remember only a teensy bit of this fight hardly remembering how she was in pain her eyes finally noticed the pair of eyes watching her from the shadows. A foul, painful, frightened feeling fell over her as if she were surrounded by hundreds of dementors and no happiness was left to feel or remember. Only those eyes, terrible slighted and shiny, dark red.
Aral gasped and immediately sat up right in her bed. The cold sweat sticking her shirt at her back. Breathing heavily she looked in the room, noticing she wasn't in Malfoy Manor anymore, nor was it before the battle of Hogwarts. No, it had been 2 months since. Aral was still shacking and rubbed her hands over her face, trying to shake those terrifying, ugly eyes. She always felt watched by them, around the corner or the other side of the street, always haunted by them. She shook it off, telling herself the foul monster has been dead 2 months already and there was no way he could still be here somehow.
She looked at her clock on the nightstand beside her, 5.30. way too early. She then remembered what day it was, or more frightening, what was going to happen on this day. All she wanted to do was fall back into bed and have a dreamless, long sleep. But she couldn't possibly imagine skipping this day. Trying to avoid the dark, heavy thoughts, she climbed out of bed and shoved away some of the moving boxes to clear her path to the bathroom. She looked back at the great amount of boxes she still had to unpack, with a sigh she figured that she has been stalling the whole process while she lived here for over 4 weeks already. Shaking her head she stepped into the bathroom, took a quick shower and walked back to her small bedroom to collect some clothing for the day. In her wardrobe she saw the dress she had bought for today. But she never really felt comfortable in dresses or skirts, so she decided to wear simple black skinny jeans with a black blouse with long sleeves. Back in the bathroom while brushing her teeth, and skipping breakfast, she noticed the crack in her mirror. She frowned, trying to remember how it came there. Not being able to think of a cause, she removed it from the wall. Thereby also noticing the ugly stain behind it, obviously the former owner tried to cover it up. She made a face when she realised it would take a whole day getting the stain out. Briefly a thought shimmered through her mind. 'Reparo' and 'Emundiato' echoed through her was scared of the thought. How quick it could have gone, how easy. Sometimes she really did miss magic. She took a deep breath banishing the thoughts of magic from her mind.
It's dangerous, you can't control it. She chanted in her head. Another deep breath and she continued. Putting the mirror down, she remembered packing a mirror in one of the boxes. Not really in the mood looking for a mirror that will just show a face that it shows every other day, she rubbed her face again. Too tired and hole. She never really felt any emotion these days, only dark and negative: irritation, frustration or loneliness. It was still a little dark in her bedroom, only the light of the bathroom was on and the red irritating light of her clock was flashing. It said – to her irritation – 5.47. which mend it wasn't yet time to head for the Burrow already and she had plenty of time to look for the mirror.
After sighing a fair amount of times she found the mirror in the third box she opened. It had been a gift from Hermione on her 18th birthday which was the 16th of May and not the 31st of July as was believed first. It still felt strange, not sharing her birthday for the first time with her brother they had all believed to be her twin. Her relationship with Harry didn't change however , luckily. Although she did grow apart a bit from everyone, but no one held any accusations against her due to the previous events. There wasn't anything special about the mirror. She placed it on the wall, covering the ugly stain. She looked in the mirror, seeing the bags under her eyes, the black curls of her hair going everywhere untameable (she occasionally admired Hermione for being able to tame her hair) and lastly her green eyes, similar to Harry's. Yet again she was surprised on how similar Harry and she looked, while they weren't -as far as she knew- blood related.
Her skin was pale, as pale as paper. She sighed deeply at the contrast. Fred would have laughed at the contrast between her black hair, black clothing, green eyes and the bright-red Weasley's. She could remember him laughing, at a prank or simple joke. It always was so bright and catching. The memory was painful and also very pleasant. It felt like it gave her heart a bit of fresh air, it felt good. She decided not to push away this thought, in contrast with what she usually did, push them away. Her eyes brightened a bit, but she wouldn't accept it was a simple thought of the Weasley. It was finally time to head for the burrow and Aral took her shoes from under her bed, black high-heeled boots. With a last look in the mirror and a last frown at her own sight, she walked out of the brown wood door.
You can still go back, a small voice in her head spoke. You can still go home and fall into your bed, skip this day! She could… no! No, absolutely not! If she didn't turn up at Fred's funeral she could probably start planning her own funeral, for she would be cursed and hexed by Molly Weasley. Every step she took, which broad her closer to the Burrow, became harder. The guilt finally caught up with her, she had been pushing it away. Not visiting weekly on Sunday's brunch, nor visiting at all for that matter. The last time she saw the inside of the Burrow was four weeks ago, while moving to her small apartment in muggle-London. But respect and love for the weasley's kept her going. The sun had finally risen up and shot a soft orange-pink colour through the sky and on the Burrow. It was a lovely sight and would have made the day perfect if it wasn't for the sad end this day would have to face. Before she knew it she was standing in front of the door and she held her breath. Slowly she lifted her hand to knock on the door, but before her knuckles touched the wood, the door flung open. Showing a small, plump, wearing bright coloured clothing and head held high, Molly Weasley.
Aral looked right into her eyes and she could see that the always strong and caring mother had probably cried all night, her eyes still watery and puffy. Aral was startled by the sudden appearance, not being able to move. Neither did mrs. Weasley move, and not sure what to do Aral just stared at the woman, the loving and caring woman. For a moment she thought that Molly was going to scream at her, accusing her of leaving everyone and not visiting her, accusing her of Fred's death, that she could have protected her son. Her son, the son Aral had loved too. Fred had for a brief year grown close to her and she... she started feeling the tears behind her eyes. That was the reason she left the Burrow. The Burrow exposed her, she couldn't hide behind a façade, it would simply crack and show her true self. But there were no accusation shouted, or painful memory's broad up. No, instead Molly pulled her into a tight hug. A hug she dearly needed, and the simple but very sweet words, 'I'm so glad you're here, dear.' Made Aral embrace the woman heartily.