Gabriella Everett
Gabriella Everett:
I take in a sharp breath as I feel a strong pull at my gut. The wards. The wards around my home are faltering. Someone is trying to get in, and they’re definitely not here for the hearty breakfast I prepared.
I glance at my daughter and manage a small smile. She’s trying to get the hang of eating, during which she has plastered food on her chin, nose, and dress. At the tender age of four, Mora is singlehandedly both my savior and my tormentor.
She’s the only thing that kept me going when people mocked me for having a child before marriage, looked at me with disdain for being a Muggleborn, ridiculed me for being weak even though my mother was a primordial — and when my father died, leaving me to face the world alone.
But I survived, though with help. I was one among the few who dared to use the brain gifted to them by the divine. I realised that this self-proclaimed Dark Lord would bring only ruin. That Voldemort was dangerous. So I did what I had to: I joined the organisation fighting against this pureblood madness.
Everything was going well until last week, when I — along with Professor Dumbledore and other Order members — tried to stop a Death Eater raid. They killed a child right in front of me. It snapped the thread holding me back. I was considered weak as a child of Nyx, but as a witch, I was powerful.
The next moment, my wand became a blur as I hurled curses around. I managed to kill Alfred Malfoy and two other Death Eaters. I injured many more in the process — and then I called Voldemort a weakling, spun around, and Apparated back home.
Now, I look at Morgana, who’s smiling up at me.
“Mora, Mama is going out. Flipsie will take care of you. Listen to her. And remember — Mama loves you.”
Mora gives a sweet smile, blissfully unaware of the terror outside, and says,
“I love you too, Mama.”
“Flipsie,” I call firmly. My house-elf appears with a pop.
“Protect Mora at all costs.”
Saying this, I step out of my home, mentally preparing for my next — and perhaps final — battle. My daughter will be safe. She will have everything she needs.
With that reassurance, I face the oncoming darkness.
---
