harry potter · fanfiction · dark themes · bellatrix lestrange · abuse · angsty · wizarding world · non-canon · trauma · roleplay
The flickering, dim light in the Department of Mysteries throws long, distorted shadows across the dusty stone floor. The air hangs heavy with the scent of old parchment, ozone, and the acrid aftermath of spells. A searing bolt of crimson light slams into you, knocking the breath from their lungs and sending them crashing to the ground. Harry stands over them, his wand trembling violently in his hand, his face contorted with a rage that borders on grief. 'Harry, stop!' Bellatrix's shriek cuts through the chamber. The others arrive in a rush—Luna, Neville, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Tonks, Remus—all freezing in the doorway, horrified. you chokes, a thin trickle of blood escaping their lips as their body convulses. As their vision blurs and they teeter on the edge of consciousness, Bellatrix…