It was late at night, and Daphne was sitting at her desk with her eyes closed, her Charms homework spread out before her. Her roommates were already fast asleep, but the voice wouldn't let her rest.
"Ingwaz," whispered Daphne. "Grant me the wisdom of the ages…"
Each use of Ingwaz, which amplified Daphne's ability to concentrate beyond its ordinary limits, would cost her an extra waking hour each day. Still, she considered it more than worth the price. She had established a reputation as one of the top three brightest Witches in her year, but without the rune's help, there was no way she'd be able to stand on equal footing with true prodigies like Mafalda Prewett or next-generation, next-step-in-magical-evolution Witches such as Hermione.
"Come on, Ingwaz," chanted Daphne, screwing her eyes tightly shut. "Ingwaz, Ingwaz, Ingwaz…"
Oleandra preferred to use the rune under its Freyr aspect, using its association to the earth to pin her foes to the ground, but Daphne preferred to use it under its Yngvi aspect, as the divine spark that amplified her cognitive abilities.
"Mannaz…"
In Daphne's mind's eye, her soul, which had once appeared to her as a beautiful starry night sky, now looked as if it had been doused with tar. The starlight had dimmed, and the encroaching darkness covered many crucial constellations, undermining her ability to resonate with the magic of the stars. Some sections of her inner sky had already gone completely dark, cutting her off from certain spells— and the shadowed zone was only growing by the day.
"Mannaz…"
Only one part remained untouched by the darkness: a small tree growing alone under the heavens within a fragile eggshell. This egg was her last bastion, her ultimate sanctuary within herself— Mannaz, the rune of humans, otherwise known as Mani or the Cosmic Egg. Within the egg lay the core of her soul: her Heart. The other six of the seven soul-aspects— the Body, the Spirit, the Name, the Personality, the Vital Essence, and the Magic— were already being twisted and corrupted.
Daphne glared enviously at Tracey, who slept soundly in her bed, seemingly without a care in the world. Unlike her, she hadn't been made into a Horcrux— that bitch. Her connection to the stars was unbroken, and yet she wasted her potential by doing nothing with it.
And her sister, with those piercing eyes of hers… it was impossible for Oleandra to know that she was carrying a shard of the Dark Lord's soul within herself, and that it was eating her up from the inside, and yet… Daphne couldn't help but shake the feeling that Oleandra knew.
But if she did know—
Then why wasn't she doing anything to help her!?
"The girl couldn't possibly know," the voice whispered. "It is our greatest secret…"
"Shut-up-shut-up-shut-up," hissed Daphne, snapping shut her copy of Quintessence: A Quest.
Daphne needed more sleep than the average teenager, but the voice wouldn't let her rest. Remembering the Draught of Living Death she had brewed at Oleandra's request, she fumbled through her satchel for the vial— just a sip, and her sister would just have to do with less than what she had asked for. Instead, her fingers closed around clumps of mistletoe, which she had harvested from the Forbidden Forest just days ago.
"Just give in… why prolong the inevitable… you are already beyond redemption…"
"SHUT UP!"
Suddenly repulsed by the mass of plant matter in her hands, Daphne hurled the carefully harvested mistletoe into the rubbish bin with all her strength.
"Why…" whispered the voice. "Why have you thrown away your weapon?"
Daphne always made sure to carry some mistletoe around with her wherever she went, since it was particularly helpful in combat when used in conjunction with her powers (just ask the Basilisk and Grawp)— but for some reason, she could no longer stomach the sight of the writhing vines.
"Daphne?" groaned Tracey, stirring in her bed. "I thought I heard your voice…"
BZZZT!
Daphne and Tracey snapped to attention at the same moment. Naudhiz, the rune of distress, had just started ringing loudly in their heads— indicating that they were both in mortal peril. Daphne and Tracey both glanced at each other and snatched up their wands.
"Lumos!" whispered Tracey, raising her wand to shine a beam of light across the dark room.
"Whazzit," groaned Mafalda, pulling her bedcovers over her head. "Turn off the light, dad…"
BAM!
The walls shuddered, and the glass of the porthole windows cracked, sending a thin stream of lake water hissing through the fracture. Something in the neighbouring room had slammed into the dividing wall— hard, by the sound of it.
"HELP!"
"What the hell is that thing!?" came Pansy's screeching voice from the next room, recognisable despite it being muffled. "Kill it, kill it!"
"What do you think I'm trying to do!?" came Oleandra's exasperated voice through the wall. "Millicent, don't move! Sowelo— Solar Flare!"
By this point, Daphne and Tracey had already leapt out of bed and kicked open Oleandra's bedroom door. Inside, Millicent was grappling with some kind of living shadow, while Oleandra stood on her bed, her entire body radiating blinding light.
"What are you lot gawking at!?" screamed Pansy, who was huddled in a corner of the room with a terrified expression on her face. "Help her, the Dementor's smothering her!"
Daphne felt no aura of despair, and neither could she feel any coldness— and Dementors didn't strangle people, they sucked the happiness out of them. Could this thing actually be what she thought it was…?
"Expecto Patronum!" Oleandra was yelling, shaking her wand. "Expecto Patronum!"
A thin silvery mist emerged from Iris's wand, but no more than that. In her current state, Daphne didn't even try to produce a guardian spirit, while Tracey opened her mouth, the incantation already on her tongue…
"Expecto Patronum!" came a young girl's shout behind Daphne.
A luminescent raven burst in being with a flash of pure white light. It swept across the room and plunged straight into the shadowy creature's heart, forcefully separating it from its victim. Screeching in pain, the darkness flattened and glided across the floor between the girls' legs— faster than they could react— fleeing into the inky depths of the corridor.
Daphne looked to her sister for answers, but Oleandra wasn't looking at her. She was staring at Millicent with an expression Daphne could only describe as inhuman— and suddenly, Millicent began hugging herself, shivering uncontrollably.
"A Dementor, here, why!?" stammered Pansy behind her, her teeth chattering. "S-s-so c-cold…"
Startled, Daphne turned and saw a first-year girl— the one from that Order of the Round Table thing from France. She was looking up at her with the same expression Oleandra had worn just moments earlier: an eerie, almost alien look, with eyes that felt like they were boring straight into her soul.
"Don't," said Oleandra warningly.
"Suit yourself," said Mai, shrugging.
And with that, she disappeared into the corridor, presumably returning to her room.
"A Corporeal Patronus!" exclaimed Tracey obliviously. "At her age! She's incredible!"
Daphne said nothing as Oleandra quietly nudged a shoebox back under the bed with her heel.
Moments later, Professor Snape arrived running, wand raised. Millicent and Pansy immediately bombarded him with frantic reports of Dementors, cold, and despair— until he was finally forced to escort them to the Hospital Wing, without so much as asking a single question of Oleandra, Daphne, or Tracey.