Annabelle
In the morning I was awakened by soft music coming from the second floor, where the living room was located. I reluctantly opened my eyes, wishing I could get some more sleep, but then I remembered that it was already Christmas and that fact instantly cheered me up. Dad tried his best to create a festive atmosphere by decorating the gloomy house itself as brightly as possible and, despite Grandma cursing, he always played festive music on Christmas morning, thereby raising the mood.
I glanced out the window, Kreacher parting the green velvet curtains as usual, slipping into my room while I slept, but that didn't anger me today. Outside the window, view was simply magnificent — fine snow was falling, covering the ground with a thin white cover, and the sun was barely peeping through. I jumped out of bed and began to preen myself in front of a huge full-length mirror in a gold frame.
My room was my favorite in the whole house, although it was little different from the same guest room in which Ora stayed. Dark green tapestries with roses embroidered on them hung on the walls, and on the bedside table was a music box and a purple magic ball for momentary predictions. Previously, I often liked to find out from him what the coming day was preparing for me — this gave me hope that I could change my fate. How naive I was!
There was a small ladder under the window, with the help of which it was much more convenient to climb onto the windowsill and jump out like a free bird. Near the door was a huge wardrobe with ornate carvings, and opposite the bed was a dark marble fireplace, over which hung a Christmas tree garland. On the mantelpiece were boxes of jewels and other ornaments, and on top, in a golden frame, hung a huge portrait of my mother. She was a beautiful girl of about nineteen, with large green eyes, which I inherited from her, and straight light brown hair. She was dressed in a dark blue ladies' jacket and a white blouse, and always smiled at me beamingly from the portrait:
"Merry Christmas, my dear!" she said.
"Merry Christmas, Mom!" I replied with a touch of sadness in my voice.
I never knew her, and as a child I sat for hours on end in front of her portrait. Sometimes I lacked female understanding. My grandmother strictly brought me up in her traditions, and I could not share the most intimate with her. In addition, when it came to my ill-fated future marriage, my grandmother was unshakable in this. But my mother could understand me, because she and my father got married for love. Pure and big, like I've never seen before.
"How are you and your fiancé doing? Doesn't he hurt you?" she asked.
"You heard how grandmother is indignant because of that scandal..." I was embarrassed, but told the truth. I couldn't lie to my mother, even if it was just her portrait.
"Yes, darling," she smiled softly. "You shouldn't blame yourself."
"Thanks…" I sighed. "But I don't know what to do... My life, and our whole family, now depends on him. And it's awful! I understand that I should not interfere with him, but every time he insults me... I can't let this pass my ears and endure!"
"Of course not, honey," Mom said. She paused for a moment, thinking, and then continued. "But you know, sometimes a common cause can bring people together."
"But I can't do that! Everyone just strives to teach me how to do the right thing, they scold me for what I did wrong. And I just want to be understood," I wiped away a traitorous tear in the corner of my eye. "Everyone perceives me as an arrogant and soulless doll, which can only be played with and nothing more. But I'm not like that... No one understands me, no one even bothers to find out what I feel at the same time! And I want them to take care of me, protect me, so that they need me..." throwing out everything that was on my soul lately, what hurt me in Draco's words, what Cormac said and how he treated me; having spoken out, even to a portrait, I felt a little better.
"You are right, dear, but you are so strong! I am sure that you will overcome all difficulties! And mistakes are made to be made. We gain valuable experience and wisdom with their help. Don't be afraid of making mistakes! Just draw the right conclusions," my mother encouraged, not finding anything else to tell me.
Even she could not relieve the longing from misunderstanding and the pain from resentment, the constant feeling of doom and lack of freedom in my soul, because she was only a portrait. But the realization that even being in this form she will always support me, will always be on my side, inspired the last rays of light of hope for the best.
"I really want you to be happy! Your father tells me all the time how brave, resourceful, and strong you are. It couldn't be otherwise, because you are his daughter!" Mom said with boundless love in her voice. When she spoke about Sirius, her eyes, even from the portrait, seemed to shine brighter than usual, which made me smile warmly. This is what love means through time, space and even death.
"Thank you Mom," I whispered.
I shook my head, discarding sad thoughts and went downstairs to the source of the sound.
To my amazement, my dad outdid himself by decorating our house amazingly, creating a real fairy tale. Christmas tree that stood in the living room between the fireplace and the window was decorated this time with live fairies who danced bizarrely on the branches, jumping from one to another and leaving a trail of multi-colored fairy dust behind them. Beneath it was a mountain of gifts that was waiting for Aurora and me, the main lovers of this celebration.
The room has been transformed and sparkled with new colors from Christmas decorations. The weak December sun filtered through the deep blue velvet curtains and gleamed in the gold threads on the tapestry of the Black family tree that stretched the length of the living room wall. The big black grand piano that used to be where Christmas tree used to be was moved to the second fireplace, directly opposite the first one. Beside him, quite close to each other, were bookcases with ancient and dark folios. We had a lot of old books, of which far from all my father allowed me to read. Although, of course, their number does not compare with the Malfoy library.
We sat down on two sofas, located in the middle of the room opposite each other, and began to open presents with pleasure.
First of all, I presented a Christmas present to Ora so that she opened it before everyone else, as it should be for a guest. My father and I gave her an unusual necklace with neat little opals, and in the middle with a tiny vial, which contained a few purple drops of the most precious potion that can heal absolutely all wounds. This potion is almost impossible to obtain and unusually difficult to brew, but my father managed to get it somewhere and he approved of my desire to give it to Aurora. My friend beamed and immediately tried on the necklace, which, by the way, outwardly did not differ from the usual jewelry, which is for the best, because then no one will be tempted to take possession of it.
In response, I received a gift from a friend — a beautiful, oval-shaped, silver medallion with the letter "B" on it, engraved in Gothic script. When I opened it, I gasped — there were pictures of my mother and father inside, so smiling and young. I noticed how this gift touched Sirius and he smiled gratefully at Aurora, helping me fasten the clasp of the locket, which I now decided to always wear without taking it off. Then grandmother joined us and we began to look at the rest of the gifts, among which were other girlish joys: jewelry, outfits, magical trinkets, and so on.
This is how our Christmas day went. The mood improved instantly, as if nothing had happened, as if everything was the same as before. We joked, talked, enjoyed the carefree moments of life and it seemed that it would be like this forever. All problems and worries faded into the background, because it was so good and calm to be in an atmosphere where you are loved and appreciated.
As soon as it got dark, we had a little Christmas concert.
Aurora sat down at the piano, and I stood next to her and we sang a duet of several old lyric songs. We did it superbly — my velvety deep voice harmoniously merged with the high, like bells, voice of Ora. Ever since we were kids, we've been doing holiday concerts like this at my house and at the Malfoy house where Aurora grew up, and all of our family was delighted with it. Even the grandmother approved of such an occupation, since in her strict traditions, true ladies were supposed to be comprehensively developed and demonstrate talent for art in every possible way.
The rest of the vacation days passed just as cheerfully and carefree. We chatted with Ora like ordinary girls, not thinking about anything bad that fell on our heads, played magic chess with my father and in the evenings listened to his stories about various adventures of our ancestors. It was so peaceful and calm in my soul that I didn't want to remember the problems and start a serious conversation with my father at all. True, with every day that brings us closer to returning to Hogwarts, I felt more and more disgustingly aching somewhere in my chest, forcing me to overpower myself and overshadow our fun with the negative hanging over us like a thundercloud.
On the last evening, after supper, when my grandmother had already gone to bed, the three of us went up to the living room as always. Sitting on the sofas, I fell into my thoughts, not listening to another story from my dad, staring at the fire in the fireplace. I was so tense that my ears were ringing, and this ringing drowned out both the crackling logs in the fireplace and my father's voice.
I woke up only from the gentle touch of my father's hand on my head.
"My girl, are you all right?" he asked worriedly. "Are you upset about going back to Hogwarts tomorrow?"
"No, dad…" I sighed heavily, making up my mind. "We need to tell you something."
I told my father everything that had been troubling us lately. Everything we learned about Aurora and her power, and what Snape told me. True, here I already tried to soften the information, knowing how my father might react to the news of the danger. He, like me, will be at risk, just to protect loved ones. But I'm also willing to do anything to protect him.
"How do you think the Dark Lord can use Aurora for his own purposes? Is she really needed only to create an army of infernals? Isn't a specific spell enough for that?" I asked as I finished my story.
"Yes, as far as I know, this can be achieved with the help of a spell. The only question is to what extent. Infernals are just puppets, perhaps the Dark Lord wants to create an army of independent thinking dead, which is much worse," my father suggested. "And, of course, knowing his methods and unquestioning desire to achieve his goal, he will sacrifice absolutely everything on the way to his plan and will want to use to the fullest extent everything that can help him in this," he said gloomily. My father looked very puzzled. "This is very dangerous for you, Aurora. Getting caught up in the Dark Lord's net is a one way ticket..."
"Professor Snape said there was a way... How to get rid of this power... But..." whispered Ora, unable to even say it out loud.
"Don't you dare think about it! We will definitely find another option!" I interrupted her. "Perhaps, after coming of age, your strength will not become so terrifying and the Dark Lord will abandon this undertaking..." I drawled uncertainly.
"Alas, such a power will not go unnoticed and, since it exists, it will manifest itself at the maximum level. For a long time, there were rumors about this rarest gift among pure-blooded wizards, but everyone considered it to be only legends," my father drawled thoughtfully.
"Really? And what are these legends?" Aurora was surprised.
"I haven't heard much about them, but I'll find out more about it from the rest of the Death Eaters," Sirius stated confidently.
"What? No! Dad! This is very dangerous!" I screeched, scared out of my wits.
Damn! What have I done? Now my father is definitely going to get into something bad because of me!
"Don't worry about me, Anna," my father smiled at me, looking somewhere in the distance.
"How can I not worry, dad? Snape said we're at risk now! And if Draco fails…" Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at my father pleadingly.
"Snape just likes to play it safe, never mind, sweetheart," Sirius smiled at me. It was as if my father put on a mask, showing us his carefree look, but I knew for sure that in fact he was very worried and was thinking about how to help us. "But don't even dare to climb up to Malfoy to find out anything yourself. This is his and the Dark Lord's business. Do not try to interfere, Anna!" he threatened sternly, noticing a certain twinkle in my eyes.
"I won't if you promise me the same," I said in the same stern tone, holding out my hand to my father. We've always done that when we made promises to each other.
"All right," my father replied and shook my hand, but I still didn't like the gleam in his eyes.
"All right," I answered in the same way, knowing full well that we, like two stubborn sheep, simply lied to each other.
On this our conversation ended, my father kissed me on the top of the head, wished us good night and left the room. And now I was thinking how to find out from Draco what task the Dark Lord had assigned him. Perhaps it is connected with the power of Aurora, then I will find out everything myself and my father will not need to put himself in danger.
Or we ourselves will find a way to get rid of her power. After all, it cannot be that there are no other options. I just did not believe in it!
With these thoughts we went to bed, because tomorrow was the day of returning to school, the beginning of our long and difficult journey to clarify the truth.