Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter character's or anything related to the works of J.K Rowling. I only own the plot and any original characters you might notice. If I used any music or poems or any other medium you may have noticed from pop culture or music/books I do not own that source.
I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, I enjoyed writing it. Again I don't have a beta-reader so if there are any typos and errors please let know so I can fix it.
Thank you all to the readers who favorite and review this series. Nothing makes my day than seeing someone dropped a review for me. I really appreciate everyone who reads this series.
November 16, 1948
Tom's eyes narrowed. "Are we understood?" The meeting was officially over by now, but Tom wanted to be sure everyone was on the same page as him.
Graham Nott nodded and agreed mindlessly. He grew up to be somewhat of a mindless and spineless man-but working under the thumb of a violent wizard will do that to a person.
Armand Dolohov knew that Lord Voldemort didn't need or want his lackies approval. Dolohov knew that Voldemort meant this as an order; Dolohov was going to follow this order to perfection as to keep his family safe.
Theo Avery and Gerald Rosier hated the news of a half-blood being anywhere near them. Much more, they hated how they would more than likely have to treat the bitch just like if not better than most pure-bloods.
Vincent Lestrange felt something that of low anger. Lestrange lusted over and over and over the half-blooded witch that was mention mere minutes ago. Now that the great Lord Voldemort had delivered his news, Lestrange knew his lust for the one and only Ophelia Darwin had to die then and there with no hope or future attempts to try and get the witch in his bed.
Abraxas Malfoy held down his tongue and only thought of everything but what the Dark Lord had announce. This, the very thought of a union between the heir of Slytherin and half-blood was against what he stood for….but there was nothing in his current power to do anything about it.
There was one emotion, one tiny yet ugly emotion that the pure-blooded men (excluding the Dark Lord, of course) experienced hardly ever in their life.
The ugly beast of envy. Who could blame them though?
Dolohov was married fresh out of Hogwarts to a witch he only spoke to once. His grandmother arranged the marriage and while Dolohov was lucky enough to later fall in love with his wife-he would have liked to pick her.
Nott's father had arrange his marriage, something about the union being more of a business merger. Imagine Nott's surprise when he found out his wife was barely seventeen on the night of their wedding. Nott cheats on his wife because he doesn't want the poor girl to resent her life anymore than she already does.
Avery had to marry because none of his brothers produced any future heirs to carry on the family blood line and name. He suggested against marrying his cousin and pleaded to marrying outside the family so he could have a better chance at producing a healthy heir- but he was ignored and his wife still isn't pregnant and probably won't be any time soon.
Rosier's mother slapped his sham of a marriage together just to spite some other pure-blooded witch. Rosier and his wife have nothing in common other than they hate their mothers and love cairn terriers.
Lestrange much like Avery was forced to marry his cousin. The advice the males in his family gave him when it came time for the wedding: 'If you're drunk enough, she'll look like whoever you want her to be.'
Malfoy's wife was picked by both his mother and father and he didn't get to meet her until a week until their 's shown Malfoy she'd rather not speak to him unless telling him what is needed around the manor.
Yet here was Tom Marvolo Riddle a fucking heir of Slytherin. Not only was his blood one of the most valued blood lines in the wizarding world, he had the luxury of marrying whoever he wanted.
Well, within the context of what the Dark Lord had just announced, he had the luxury of being engaged to whoever he wanted.
"What do you mean he asked you not tell too many people?"
"No, Margo. I am asking you not to tell anyone else."
"Do William and Zyra already know?"
"I had breakfast with them and baby today."
"Damn it!" Margo crossed her arms over her chest. "I wanted to tell them. You know what, it's fine, I am telling my husband."
"I figured."
"I will also tell Edmund, just because."
"Do not tell Edmund." Ophelia nudged her pregnant friend on the elbow gently. She would have rolled her eyes but she couldn't tell if the blonde witch was serious or not about telling Edmund the news. Flashes of Tom and Edmund fighting during sixth year skipped through her mind. "There's no reason to tell your brother."
The pregnant blonde let Ophelia's last comment flow into one ear and immediately out the other. "Hopefully, little missy is out of the womb when it comes for your march down the aisle." Margo stated in a perfect mood of bliss. "So when is the wedding date?"
Ophelia shrugged. "We haven't discussed it yet."
"Okay." Margo's mind automatically jumped to the next relatively appropriate topic. "So when will you two pop out a baby?"
If I don't even know my own wedding date then how would I even know when a child is supposed to be in the picture?
"I don't know, Margo." Ophelia answered. "We have to discuss that." The brunette hadn't been thinking clearly for the past few days; it wasn't because she was particularly busy or anything. The young lady was having a harder time than she expected in grasping her currently reality was one where she was getting what she wanted from Tom Riddle...Ophelia did want a baby though.
"Does your family like him at least?" Margo asked with a hint of concern in her voice. "Surely you must know that, Pipa."
"I am sure they do." Ophelia stretched her arms out as they laid out on Margo's bed. "Tom had a meal with my family when they got back from their little weekend holiday. I had to write to Poppa as soon as it happened just so he could make it to the dinner."
Margo nodded her head, but her mind was doing a quick replay of her years in Hogwarts and Ophelia's interactions with Tom. The pregnant woman rubbed her stomach in deep thought. Ophelia seemed more likely to run from Slytherin than acknowledge him yet Tom often asked for Ophelia...Margo's half-brother got into a fight with Tom and the only common denominator they had was one half-blooded brunette in Hufflepuff...Not to mention all the times Tom and Ophelia always rode the train at the end and start of the year together.
Oh, you slag! Margo immediately pulled the pillow that allowed her rest comfortable on her back out and began to assault her best friend in the face with it. "Oh my goodness, you liar!"
"M-Margo!" Ophelia immediately tensed and tucked her hands under her body, so she wouldn't accidentally hit her pregnant friend back. "What are you on about?"
"You and Tom Riddle!" Margo gave the pillow one last good throw to her friend's face before she plopped down back on the bed and laid flat on her back. "I was rooting for you! I was rooting for you and Tom to be an item so badly in Hogwarts!" Margo huffed. "If you have any juicy secrets of how long your love affair with Tom has gone on you need to tell me now before I decide to be cross with you!" The pure-blooded witch then added. "The details better be sordid too!"
Ophelia's face was red from the abuse it had just undergone. "Love affair? You make it sound so much more dramatic than it actually is." Though if Ophelia ever wanted to tell the truth, now would have been the perfect time to do so.
Now or never, right? Right.
Ophelia chose never. The former Hufflepuff told more lies than she could recount when involving Tom. Some of the lies were for her sake and most of the lies were for safety of her friends. Now, especially now, the truth wasn't something Ophelia could easily allow out of her mouth.
Forget that Tom Riddle proposed to Ophelia, the truth is, a man with a fading soul is still a dangerous man
"Tsk." Margo rolled her eyes. "Fine. Don't tell me then."
The brunette witch let out a small huff of her own. Maybe telling Margo one thing wouldn't hurt too much.
"Ever wondered where I disappeared to for a brief second at you and Peter's engagement party?" Ophelia whispered.
Margo's deep blue eyes widened up. "No, but I am wondering now."
"We-erm." Ophelia remembered that night, she remembered crying herself to sleep. Give Margo the fairy tale version of what she is expecting...Not the truth. "We danced for a bit in the garden before we had to part our ways for the night. We said goodbye with a brief kiss."
"Oh! Pipa!" Margo beamed up at her friend. A happiness was warming Margo up in her chest and it showed in her smile. Margo was beginning to think that maybe her visions of Ophelia and Tom were finally coming true. Her best friend was going to have a life of luxury and ease. She deserves a life like that. Margo's smile grew bigger.
You're normalizing it you know...You're taking a memory where Tom cut deep into your state of being and making it normal. If that was Ophelia's conscience speaking, she ignored it completely.
I want to be married and I want a family...He's willing to give me that. Ophelia reassured herself.
In many cases, Abraxas Malfoy did not form attachments to things. If anything, Abraxas only cared about his blood status.
With that being said, the pure-blooded wizard loved the estate he didn't inherit. Abraxas bought the manor a few months after he started to work for the Ministry; combined what he was earning with the galleons he already had stored in the bank; he was able to buy the manor in lovely Dorset straight out. It was nowhere near as huge as the Malfoy manor: it couldn't throw grand events, and it didn't have years and years and year of history painted all over it but it was perfect in its own little way.
The manor Malfoy was giving over to Lord Voldemort was two stories, made out of sturdy terracotta brick with a red roofing, equipped with eight bedrooms, six grand bathrooms and tigerwood hard floors. There was also a two story greenhouse attached to the back of the manor. The first floor of the green house contained an indoor swimming pool while the second floor contained the possibility of making a flower nursery.
Abraxas had plans for the new and unnamed manor; he wanted to raise his future children and maybe even grandchildren here.
The Malfoy manor, as grand as it was- it is still a cold and empty place….and now, he was more than likely going to bring up the next generation of Malfoys there.
"Have you been standing out here long?"
Malfoy held a sigh in as he forced himself to acknowledge the witch who came into his presence. "No. I've only arrived here two minutes ago."
Ophelia nodded. "Well, thank you for taking the time to show me around the place." She then added, "I'm sure you're very busy with work and all."
The blonde wizard said nothing and opened the heavy mahogany double doors. Judging from how close Ophelia's footsteps sounded, the half-blooded witch was walking right beside him.
"Oh, wow." Ophelia's eyes went wide with a spark of enthusiasm. Like Malfoy, she too must have seen the vast potential this manor held.
Years of craftsmanship is dotted all over this manor and all you can say is 'oh, wow'? Abraxas shot a side glance at Ophelia. He tried being civil to the witch before and his advice fell from her ears straight to the ground for her to walk all over. Perhaps being civil was something a witch with tainted blood didn't understand.
"Excited?" Abraxas asked as he watched Ophelia peek around the first floor of the manor. His tone tense as his hands were held properly behind his back.
"Nervous too." Ophelia replied as she stepped into the parlor room and took note of how it was fully furnished with a grand piano over in the left hand corner by a window. Her footsteps were light as she treaded out of the parlor room in search of the kitchen. "New chapter in my life and all, you know?"
"I would be to." Abraxas didn't hold back his next statement. "Especially since your fiance hates the likes of witches and wizards like you."
The brunette froze in her footsteps. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me, Darwin." Malfoy wanted to call her a mud-blood but decided against it. Regardless of how upset he was, he still had to be careful in getting his point across.
Ophelia's pale green eyes bore deep into Abraxas' blue eyes. But no words escaped her mouth.
One magic user held the expression of stone cold confidence on their face.
One magic user held the expression of dismay on their face.
"What is that supposed to mean, Malfoy?" Ophelia felt a lump form in her throat as she tried to make sense of what Malfoy said.
Abraxas only answered the witch's question with another question. "Has it ever dawned on you that you're the only half-blood he's openly associated with?"
"Well no but-." Ophelia never got to finish her sentence.
An genuine sense of curiosity bloomed in Abraxas' mind. "Do you even know about his lineage?"
Ophelia opened her mouth only to close it shut after realizing that she didn't have the answer to Malfoy's question. There was probably a lot of things that she did know about Tom Marvolo Riddle, but at the same time, Ophelia knew there was probably a few things she could learn about the handsome wizard...She could spare the time to figure out why Tom's soul was fading from his body.
Though Ophelia wasn't sure if that was a road she was wanting to go down with Tom.
She has no clue who she's been dealing with this whole time...Absolutely none. Abraxas' eyes raked over Ophelia and a small prickle of sympathy infected his system and the bitter feeling of envy tagged along with it. "Darwin, I'm going to be brutally candid with you. If you have a chance to marry whoever you want, then do it….but you also have the luxury of marrying someone you know closely."
"You don't think I know Tom closely?" Ophelia asked with sincerity in her tone.
"I think you need to answer that yourself." Abraxas headed towards the front doors in order to take his leave. Abraxas was sure Ophelia was smart enough to tour around the manor by herself. "Keep this conversation between us two. No point in bringing this up anytime soon to anyone else."
"Wait!" It was Ophelia's turn to be curious. Without the thought of possibly invading Malfoy's personal space, she placed her hands gingerly on his face. A strong electric chill shot though Ophelia's muscles as she said the Navajo spell; the only place that felt hot was her hands.
Extreme detachment….episodes of high bliss only to end abruptly…. Ophelia's eyes started to tear up involuntarily. Hate lives here…self-loathing and outward prejudice….yet...there is a small amount of hope lingering in there-it's not a good sense of hope though.
Abraxas Malfoy tried to pull away as soon as the former Hufflepuff put hands on him but he found himself unable to move. An iciness reached down into his being, to a point where goosebumps formed all over his skin.
A deep shade of gray with mixed undertones of a lighter gray erupted from Abraxas' body. Ophelia released her hands from Abraxas' face but she stayed still; she didn't have to dig deep as to why there was hate in Abraxas' soul or who that hate was directed at.
"What did you do?" There was obvious anger in Abraxas' tone. "If you placed a primitive curse on me then I promise you-."
"Have I done anything to you?" Ophelia asked with genuine curiosity in her voice. "Did I offend you while we were in Hogwarts?" Logically, there was no real and valid reason for Abraxas to feel any aversion towards Ophelia. Illogically, strong loathing did not need any real reasons for Abraxas to feel the way he did towards half-bloods and mud-bloods.
Abraxas Malfoy looked down at the witch in his presence. There were words on the tip of his tongue, eagerly waiting to come out into the world. You don't like her but you cannot talk down to her no matter what now.
So he left. He walked right out of the manor, through the heavy double doors, and out into the chilly November day.
If you do go through with marrying Tom Riddle, this is the world you'll also be living in as well...Are you fine with his friends hating you for a matter that was beyond your control? Ophelia couldn't answer her own question. Well no, who was she kidding. She could answer her own question; she merely didn't want to answer it.
With a steady sigh, she ran her fingers through her hair and gripped at the roots before letting go.
She drew out her wand from her pocket and with a lazy flick of her wrist the front doors closed before exploring the manor that was supposed to become her home.
William Zolotov replayed the announcement of one of his friend finally getting engaged in his mind. He could understand that maybe engagements in the muggle world didn't come with a big party and booze like many engagements in the (pure-blooded) wizarding word, but he wished Ophelia could have that.
Who would ever want to announce their engagement without their fiance present and while buttering breakfast toast?
The sound of his child cooing brought him out of his thought for a moment. William turned to his wife and gently rubbed her back. "Yara all done eating?"
Zyra nodded she pulled the baby away from her breast and on her shoulder. "Now all she needs to do is burp."
The little baby cooed again at the sound of her mother's voice. Sleep wasn't too far behind for the Zolotov family.
"Zyra," William inched closer to his wife as they sat up on their bed. "What do you think of Pipa's engagement?"
The South African witch looked at her husband. "What do you mean what do I think about it?" She stopped rubbing the baby's back as soon as the sound of a little burp echoed out. "Like do I think Ophelia should be engaged?"
William shook his head as he reached his hands out to grab Yara from her mother. "No, I mean, do you think she is excited about it?" The Russian swayed from side to side with the baby in his arms as he sat by Zyra. "I mean, you were excited when we first engaged?"
Zyra gave her husband the dirtiest look she could muster up.
"No! I was a wreck." She punched her pillow down as she recalled how stressful being engaged to the Russian wizard was. "Your parents didn't know we were romantically involved and thought we were only co-workers at the Ministry. They asked me if I knew who your mystery fiance was!" She then added, "You left me at the mercy of Margo as soon as she found out we were starting to plan the wedding! Not to mention at the engagement party, you got too drunk, you weren't even speaking English or Russian!"
A big and boyish grin immediately painted itself on William's face. "You still married me though."
Zyra rolled her eyes and snuggled deeper into the bed. "But to answer your question, women react differently to things. You may think she seems uninterested but if Pipa didn't want to marry she'd say no to begin with."
William carefully stood up from the bed and walked towards a pale pink baby bassinet that was stationed a couple of feet away from their bed. "You know what, Zee, you're right." A sense of relief filtered into William as he placed his daughter down.
"Of course I am right." Zyra yawned. Her husband slipped back into bed with her and a peaceful silence fell upon the room for no more than five minutes.
"Is this really our life now?" William whispered as he began to fall asleep. "Wake up at five in the morning, breakfast at six. Work for me and motherhood for you then dinner at four o'clock and to bed right at seven o'clock."
A soft mumble was all Zyra could really muster up. "If you have the energy for other activities to lengthen your day be my guest."
"No," William's mind was starting to get hazy. "I like how it is. I just wanted to confirm it with you."
The first thing to grace Tom's senses was the sound of a piano playing as he walked into the manor. The second thing was the smell of cigarettes burning.
Of course, Tom thought as he walked towards the music.
Ophelia's fingers danced away on the piano keys as she played Scott Joplin's 'Weeping Willow' with a quiet and focused flare. She enchanted her cigarette so it floated in the air; all Ophelia had to do when she wanted a smoke was pucker her lips and the cigarette would drift towards her.
The former Slytherin prefect took note on the glass ashtray that also floated in midair, it looked like it contained three other cigarette buds. Tom drew out his wand and with a careful turning motion, the windows of the parlor room opened. It allowed for the cold November air to come in and push the smell of Ophelia's smoking habit out.
The brunette drew her hands away from the piano and looked towards the other magic user. She threw him a weak smile. "Hello, you."
"Ophelia." Tom walked over to the piano bench and took a sit by his fiance. "I see you've wasted no time smoking here." He found Ophelia's addiction disgusting beyond measure yet, it didn't chase him away from wanting to seat close to the young lady.
"I made potato soup with bits of roasted ham and some broccoli in it in case you're hungry." Ophelia ignored Tom's comment and placed her fingers back on the piano keys. "There is also some rye bread in the cupboards if you want as well."
The heir of Slytherin never thought Ophelia Darwin was capable of cooking. It never occurred to him that she could know her way around a kitchen especially when she used to struggle so much at potions for the longest time. Wasn't certain methods used in potions pretty much the same methods used in cooking?
"How thoughtful of you." Tom would have said 'thank you' but his mind was still wrapping around the fact that Ophelia was slightly more domestic than he thought. His eyes watched intently as the half-blooded witch's fingers skirted over the piano. Tom could admit he liked how the gems in the ring he gave her (or stole for her, same difference really) would catch little glints of light as she played on.
"What are you playing now?" Tom was sincere with his question.
"Scott Joplin." Ophelia answered over the music. "Harmony Club Waltz." There was a more light hearted expression on her face at this moment in time. "The past few days, I feel like I've been trying too hard to remember something or I was in this daze."
You're never going to remember. Tom thought to himself. "Yes, and?"
"And it made me feel like everything was foggy." Her fingers ran smoothly over the keys as musical note after musical note easily reverberated from the piano to around the room. "I needed some music, especially after today."
Tom arched an eyebrow at that last statement. "What is that supposed to mean? Especially after today?"
Ophelia shook her head. "Don't pay it any mind." Her lips puckered, the cigarette floated to her mouth and she took a long drag before blowing out smoke.
Immediately, the heir of Slytherin's memory took him to the little meeting he had with Death Eaters. Most of the men who sat around the table had no issue as Tom told them the news of his engagement to Ophelia.
There was one wizard who did seem more rigid and irked than usual upon hearing the announcement.
"Did Malfoy say anything…" He had to think of word that was vague enough but could still gauge a detailed enough answer. "Did he say anything disagreeable to you?" Tom's face didn't contort with any emotion, but his voice had an obvious pinch of venom.
If Malfoy revealed anything about Tom Marvolo Riddle's true ambitions to Ophelia before Tom had the chance to, who knew what she'd do with that information.
The brunette witch shook her head once more. "Nothing of real importance." Ophelia then took another drag from her cigarette before she decided that was all she needed to lead onto the next topic she wanted to address. "I do however, have a question of my own." Her fingers froze over the piano keys and the music that filled the room faded away into the air.
Where is this going? Tom nodded at the witch, a gesture to show he wanted her to go on with her question.
"Do you hate muggle born or half-blooded witches and wizards?" It hurt Ophelia having to ask Tom that but what's worse is she then lengthened her question which in a way, only enhanced the negative feeling. "Do you hate me for not being a pure-blood?...Is that why you've been so cruel to me before?"
"Why would I give you what you wanted if I hate you?" Tom stood up from the piano bench and walked out of the parlor room. "I think you'll find that is the only answer you deserve at the moment."
"Fine, don't answer that question." Ophelia walked after Tom. She wanted answers, she needed to know the basics of the man she was supposed to marry. Now or never Ophelia. Now or never.
The brunette decided on now this time around. She pointed her wand at the floor around Tom's feet and with a quick string of words. A vine shot out from the tip of Ophelia's wand and wrapped itself tightly around the handsome man's legs before rooting itself to the floorboards.
Tom's back was still facing Ophelia but she didn't care. She preferred it that way, how else was she going to work up the courage to ask her next question if she had to look at his face?
"Ophelia," Tom warned. "You're being childish." He wasn't going to turn his head to look back at the witch, he thought it would only make it seem like he was humoring her.
The former Hufflepuff went for it. "What's wrong with your soul, Tom?"
What the fuck did that filthy witch just say?
The heir of Slytherin tried to move, but the vines that locked around his feet made it impossible for him to turn around and close in on the brunette. Instead, he reached for his wand. "Incendio!"
Flames immediately covered the vines and when the fire died away, the vines that covered his legs now grew longer. The vines now reached and tangled themselves over Tom's torso, tightening around his chest as he breathed in and out.
This isn't a spell she learned from Hogwarts. Tom looked at vines that wiggled around his body. "Ophelia!" Anger lingered in his voice. I can't move!
'Hebi no budo' or better translated to 'Snake vine' was a spell Ophelia learned during her time in Japan. The point of the spell was to safely bind and root someone where they stood. The only person who could repel the snake vine off of anyone, was whoever casted the spell. Ophelia's mouth went uncomfortably dry and her whole body felt uneasy as she walked closer to Tom's back. Under no circumstances was she going to look at his face right now; standing directly behind the handsome wizard seemed like the safer option.
"You can either tell me why your soul is so weak or I can find out!" Ophelia's voice was shaky but the volume when she spoke at Tom was loud as can be.
Tom scoffed as he ripped a vine that twined itself on his shoulder. "Try it." The vine regrew within a millisecond and now covered his side from shoulder to hand.
Words from the Navajo language fluttered out of her mouth as whisper and she slapped her hands on his face. A gasp of pain barely managed to escape from Ophelia. The former Hufflepuff felt as if the oxygen in her lungs disappeared. The coldness that took over her body wasn't that of a chill-it was more similar to being frozen near to death. Not even her hands felt warm when pressed to Tom's face.
A weak light in the form of a black halo was all to be seen emitting from Tom Riddle's body. Whatever resided in the body of the heir of Slytherin could barely be considered a soul.
Murder...Murder….That was the first word that showed itself in her mind as she latched onto what little was left of Tom's soul. The half-blooded witch dug deeper into whatever was left of Tom's soul.
Unremorseful….Empty, empty, empty, empty. A foul taste formed in back of her mouth; the smell of pure rot greeted her nose soon after.
I can't breathe. Ophelia's eyes widened with tears leaking from the corners. She made a mistake...In her determination to find a small center of Tom's soul, Ophelia lost focus she had on her own. I can't fucking breathe!
Violently, Ophelia pulled her hands away from Tom and with hardly any air in her lungs she fell straight down to the wooden floorboards of the manor.
The snake vines that covered nearly all of Tom Riddle's body withered as the witch who casted the spell was starting to fade out of consciousness. The handsome wizard spun around and without a second to spare he pointed his wand intently on Ophelia.
How dare she! How dare she!
Unbridled rage unlike anything Tom felt before surged throughout his being as he looked at the crumpled witch on the floor. He had fight the urge to physically kick the half-blooded woman in his path.
"Are you happy!" Tom yelled as he heard Ophelia struggled to breathe. "This is what you wanted?" He got down on one knee and with a free hand, pushed all the hair that covered Ophelia's face out of the way.
A horrified gasp escaped Tom's mouth. "What have you done, Ophelia?!" He threw his wand down to floor and picked the witch up into his arms. The unbridled rage disappeared and left no traces on Tom.
Paranoia now kicked in.
Ophelia's lips had turned into an ugly shade of blue; her peachy tan skin suddenly turned into an uneasy shade of white; and her body emitted no warmth.
"Ophelia," Tom called her name through gritted teeth. "Ophelia, get up. Stop this nonsense!" There was a short lived minute of relief in Tom when he felt Ophelia stir a little in his arms. She's waking up! He thought.
That was the opposite of what Ophelia's body did. Instead her body started to strongly convulse while Tom's arms; her eyelids fluttered rapidly; and Tom could not hear or feel if Ophelia was even breathing.
No, no, no, no. Tom's eyes widened in complete and total terror. He held onto Ophelia tighter and closer to his chest as if that was supposed to stop the sudden seizure that controlled her body. This wasn't supposed to even happen! This is not what I planned!