In which a witch from Hogwarts gets into the magical world of Narnia and might end up tampering with the plot and the feelings of the characters.
● mysterious ●
(adjective)
|mys·te·ri·ous|
\mis-ˈtir-ē-əs\
1. not explained or understood
a, not reco...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
♕ ♛ ♕ ♛ ♕ ♛
❝All things must pass.❞
"My beautiful papillon! Look at you!" Corinne Marchand cried out as she caught the sight of her niece. "I haven't seen you for almost a year."
A loving smile crept on the younger female's face as she heard the nickname the woman had been using since the girl was a toddler. "I have missed you, auntie." She pulled her into a hug.
Scorpius, Albus and Isabelle ended up travelling for more than a year, more exactly, a year and a half. They roamed almost the entire Europe.
"Me too," Corinne whispered and let her go. She took a mop of Isabelle's hair in her hand. "When did you have a haircut?"
"Maybe two weeks ago," Isabelle shrugged. She decided to have a little change in her appearance, so her long hair was the past, it only reached her shoulders. "Where's mum? I thought she will pick me up when my plane lands. Not that I'm not glad you're here."
Isabelle decided to spend a little time in France at the end of her journey, and her mother told her that she would be there at the airport, and she would pick Isabelle up when she arrives.
Corinne pressed her lips into a thin line, and teardrops appeared in her eyes. "I am sorry, papillon," she whispered under her breath.
"What? What are you talking about? Why are you apologising?" Isabelle furrowed her brows. "Where is she?" she asked, getting closer to lose countenance.
The way Corinne behaved scared the hell out of her. Instead of her the usual beaming irradiation, all Isabelle could sense was gloom. "Lori was sick. Her disease was very rare and lethal. The doctors couldn't save her."
"No," Isabelle breathed out. She heard her heart cracking. "It's impossible. She would've told me if she had been sick."
"She didn't want you to suffer, to be conscious of knowing she may not survive. She didn't tell anyone. She thought she could recover, but the doctors and her condition disagreed."
Isabelle fell to the ground, not giving a shit about everyone around her. Her breathing got harder, and she felt sweat on her neck from the flutter. Her mother, the woman who raised her to be who she became, who was always with her, was dead. The one, who stayed awake and lay on Isabelle's bed next to her when the girl had nightmares and read her the fairy tales of the Grimm brothers, was gone. The only one who she had left.
"I can never see her again," Isabelle whispered as tears showed up in her eyes. "When?" she looked up to her aunt who stood there with eyes brimming over with tears.
