Daphne Awakens

"Thank you for your purchase," the shopkeeper said with a large smile. "Please come again!"

The door chime tinkled as the three girls once again stepped out onto the main street. Oleandra experimentally slung the massive scroll over her shoulder, instead of placing it inside her pouch right away; by bewitching the scroll to be feather-light, she could barely feel its weight on her.

Still, it was in the way, so back into the pouch it went.

Despite herself, Oleandra sighed— talisman paper was expensive… The weight on her shoulders might not have been that great, but the weight on her wallet… A good part of her Triwizard winnings was now gone in the wind. And speaking of wind, a delicious smell was wafting down the street from The Three Broomsticks Inn.

Astoria's stomach rumbled. After awakening her Wind Weasel's bloodline, her appetite had grown by leaps and bounds; as opposed to Daphne, who needed to eat less and less by the day. Daphne could survive off of nothing but sunlight and water for weeks on end, if she really wanted to!

"Why don't we eat lunch first?" Astoria proposed, knocking on a tall featherboard fence with her knuckles. "I know a shortcut, follow me!"

"Wait, that's somebody's garden—" Tracey began, but her words came too late.

Astoria clicked her heels and summoned a gust of wind, which carried her up and over a tall fence, before dropping her off on the other side. Oleandra sighed and mounted the fence in two swift movements, before looking back at Tracey, who was still on the ground where she had left her.

"Need a hand?" Oleandra asked her with a little grin on her lips.

"Climbing fences; remind me, how old we are, again?" Tracey grumbled. Nevertheless, she still took Oleandra's hand, and with a little bit of help, Tracey clambered up the fence and sat at her side.

"It's a shame that tree's in the way, otherwise we'd have a nice view of the main street from here," Oleandra commented, as she let her feet dangle off the side of the fence. "It's a bit uncomfortable sitting on this thing, though."

Tracey laughed that little coquettish laugh of hers.

"That's okay, I've got all the view I need, right here with me..."

Villagers and students alike milled about on the ground below them, as they went about their days. It was a peaceful day, and for one blessed moment, Oleandra allowed herself to forget her troubles.

Until a scream shattered the peace.

"Astoria?" Oleandra cried out in a panic; that had been her little sister's voice. "Where are you!?"

Oleandra executed a handstand and flipped backwards off the fence; upon hitting the ground, she rolled and sprang to her feet, before looking back hesitatingly at Tracey.

"Go on without me!" Tracey called out from up on the fence. "I'll find a way down by myself!"

Oleandra nodded and dashed through the garden, mercilessly crushing any Hosta that grew in her way. To her relief, she quickly found Astoria standing behind a tree, unharmed, but shaking like a leaf.

Astoria wasn't alone.

There was a man lying on the ground at her feet; his limbs were sticking out at unnatural angles, in a manner somewhat reminiscent of a marionette whose strings had been cut. His eyes were wide open and alert, but his jaw and tongue sagged limply down to his chest, completely deflated. There wasn't a single tooth in there…

Almost as if his entire jawbone had been removed from under his skin.

"He was like this when I got here!" Astoria babbled hysterically. "I tripped over him, but I swear he was already like that, I didn't—"

This was too creepy; the man kept attempting to speak, but he could only produce low guttural noises. His voice was hoarse; just how long had he been trying to call for help?

"I believe you!" Oleandra quickly told her sister, in order to calm her down.

Something golden glinting at her feet caught her attention; it was an item that she knew very well by now: an Auror's badge. Oleandra stooped down and picked it up.

"Auror, John Dawlish," Oleandra murmured. "Is that you, Mister?"

The man nodded vigorously.

Good, at least his head was still attached properly to the rest of his body.

"Oleandra!" Tracey called out; she'd finally managed to climb down the fence. "Is Astoria— Merlin's beard, what happened to him!"

She had just caught sight of the Auror lying at the Greengrass sisters' feet.

"Help me lift him up," said Oleandra, "we can't just leave him here."

But try as they might, the three girls couldn't manage to get him to sit upright, much less lift him; it was like trying to carry a cat who didn't want to be moved. Every single one of his limbs' joints, and a few vertebrae by the looks of it, had simply vanished. When they tried to forcibly lift him, he'd cry out in pain.

"Mobilicorpus!"

In the end, they had to resort to magic to move him, even though it'd look bad when they reached the streets. The image of the Death Eaters levitating the Muggle family in the air at the Quidditch World Cup was still firmly imprinted in Oleandra's memories…

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Daphne lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling without blinking. She felt weak; plants needed darkness and sleep as much as any other organism, but they also needed sunlight. It was past midday already, but she was still in her room; she couldn't stop thinking about her parents, and her sister's blatant disregard for their safety through her reckless actions.

In some ways, she could understand why Oleandra might resent them; when the twins had been younger, everyone in the family had thought she'd be a Squib, and so they had treated her as one… except for Astoria. One couldn't go as far as to say that Oleandra had been neglected, but… she had certainly been overlooked, forgotten, never been made to feel as though she had any value. And in a way, that was even worse.

But still, they were her parents, too! Why couldn't Oleandra just keep her head down and let the storm pass?

Flash forward five years, and her twin sister had surpassed her by a wide margin, despite her best efforts to maintain her lead. But after nearly losing her, Daphne had stopped resenting Oleandra, and realized just how much she loved her twin sister; just as much as she loved Astoria, Iris and Maxwell.

She was so very scared of losing them.

A pinpoint burning sensation sizzled into existence in the middle of her forehead.

Terrified, even.

Daphne moaned. The pain was unbearable; it felt as though someone were boring a hole through her skull.

At this rate, they were all going to die.

The heat spread across her forehead in eight directions.

One day, she'd be left all alone, forever.

Glowing faintly in the dark room, the dark brand of the Helm of Terror began tracing itself across Daphne's forehead, line by excruciating line.