"I am a dreamer. I know so little of real life that I just can't help re-living such moments as these in my dreams, for such moments are something I have very rarely experienced. I am going to dream about you the whole night, the whole week, the whole year."

 ━━ WHITE NIGHTS

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Inkeri was back on the Hogwarts Express. For once, she felt no avid emotions towards the destination for which she was headed— no hint of excitement, or fear, or wonderment. Just a slight sorrow weighing her heart down at the prospect of more months away from home.  

She drew her legs up to her chest and curled up on the seat, settled in the corner and staring unseeingly out of the window. Inkeri couldn't tell if it was the train's speed or her own unshed tears that made the landscape blurry. 

Thankfully, nobody interrupted her brooding, and she reminisced over the two weeks of absolute bliss. Things had been far from awkward with Mathias after that first night— instead, they'd made use of every second alone doing exactly the same thing, and stealing glances when in company. 

Then, just like last time, she'd slipped away silently without telling him, because it was too difficult, and too much of a fuss. She knew that he would forgive her no matter what, and she took advantage of it. 

Inkeri's brief conversation with Ora shortly before her departure had left her feeling uneasy, and as much as she tried to put it out of her mind, she couldn't. 

The Church was more ravaged than last time. Ora's fury had only coiled more tightly around the structure, squeezing it so harshly that the brick walls had begun to slowly crumble. There were new, long slashes in the carpeted floor, as though talons had been dragged across it. 

He sat peacefully in the midst of the carnage, unmoving as ever, eyes closed. She would never become accustomed to his gruesome appearance, with the translucent flesh, bloody runes, and exposed veins.  

"You've almost demolished this place," Inkeri noted, and he opened his eyes to watch her with that intent gaze. 

Ora's hood was up, casting a shadow over his forehead but the darkness made his purple eyes glow all the more intensely. Inkeri recalled wondering whether he slept with the cloak on. Or if he slept at all. "Not on purpose," he said with an almost humanly sigh. "My magic has a mind of it's own sometimes."

She'd never seen his magic, but was surprised that his abilities ventured beyond just being a Seer. He seemed to notice her surprise, and changed the topic. "Why are you here? I did not call for you."

Inkeri had hesitated, before slowly pulling out the locket which had been burning a hole in her pocket for him to see. It twinkled in the darkness, with the engraved Selwyn seeping into the gold like black poison. "This trinket you used as a Portkey," she said carefully, "where did you get it?"

Surprise crossed Ora's expression briefly, before being pushed back by that meticulously crafted stony look of piercing intensity. "My sister gave it to me," he said sharply, "the last time I saw her. Why?"

A dangerous edge had crept into his tone. Inkeri debated whether or not to tell him that the necklace bore the same surname as the Selwyn girl who resided now at Hogwarts. She burned with curiosity to know how Adrielle and Ora's sister were connected— but she refrained from asking the question. 

It wasn't her secret to uncover, and she was still too scared of knowing the whole truth about Adrielle Selwyn. 

 "Were you close with your sister?" Inkeri hadn't been able to help but ask, if only to distract him from the strange question. 

Ora laughed. The action stunned her— she'd never heard his laugh before. It wasn't grating and painful like his voice, but there was something youthful and light about it. "In the beginning," he said, when his humour had subsided, but there was still mirth in his eyes. "Though by the end, not so much."

"What happened?"

The ghost of a smile had returned to his lips. "She burned me alive and tried to sacrifice me to the Devil," he said, so indifferently that she was left completely nonplussed. 

The sound of the train screeching to a halt jolted Inkeri from the memory, and she collected her wits and then her things before leaving the compartment. 

Stepping outside, the wind fanned her face with its cold air, whistling in her ears painfully as it twisted narrowly through the thick trees. A layer of snow still coated the ground, though incessant rain had turned it to an icy sludge, mixed with mud that squelched underfoot.  

A flame of red hair darted before Inkeri's eyes and wrapped her in a warm embrace before she could react. Belladonna Avery pulled away, fire in her eyes and burning beneath her cheeks to contrast the cold. 

"Why hello," Belladonna said jubilantly, eyeing the Slytherin witch, before unleashing her usual flurry of conversation. "Look at you, you're practically glowing! You didn't write to me either, where on Earth have you been?" 

Inkeri hoped she wasn't literally glowing— it was true that her radiance had somewhat grown over the Christmas. At least, she did not appear as a phantom haunting the light in its wake; her cheeks had gained some colour, and her curves were finally somewhat visible through (thinner) fabric. 

"Just home," Inkeri said casually, as the two girls linked arms, holding their trunks in their free hands, and heading towards the carriages. "How was your Christmas?"

"The usual hustle and bustle," Belladonna said dismissively, helping Inkeri into the carriage, and it began to move. The Thestrals pulled it forward, milky eyes glinting like marbles in the descending darkness, only visible to the two girls. "Corsets and ballgowns for the fun part, suitors and homework for the predominant tediousness."

"Suitors?" Inkeri echoed with surprise. Surely Belladonna was not seeing suitors at hardly seventeen? 

Belladonna looked equally surprised at Inkeri's surprise. "Right, of course, you are not a pureblood," she said with exasperated realisation, eyeing the blonde girl in a slightly different way. "Marriage is nothing but a ceremonial toy to preserve pureblood prestige."

Preserve pureblood prestige. The words twisted harmoniously together into an unspoken motto, accepted and ingrained into the Noble English households. "But that's awful," Inkeri said disbelievingly. 

"It is an unfortunate side effect of the Wizarding oppression of muggles," Belladonna informed Inkeri. "The attempts to preserve ourselves have become quite... backwards. Perhaps one day, we won't have to hide anymore, and I shall be free to marry whomsoever I choose."

The Gryffindor had gotten a faraway look in her eyes, the same one that Asha often got when talking about her own ideologies. "One day," Inkeri sighed, pessimistically certain that day would never come. 

In the carriage ahead of them, Inkeri caught sight of Malfoy's platinum hair, and stormy grey eyes met hers. Abraxas nodded at her, a customary slyness in the action, and she returned the gesture. 

"Have you ever considered going brunette?" Belladonna said dryly, following Inkeri's line of sight. "You and Malfoy might well be siblings. It's disgusting."

The carriages pulled onto the ground of Hogwarts, where a thick fog hung over the turrets of the castle, warping them to look like something directly out of a morbid fairytale. 

As Inkeri got down and landed on the dewy grass, the creaking of an old willow tree on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest caught her attention. Hanging from it by a fraying rope, with a stretched mouth, ghostly eye, listless yellow hair, was a girl in a white lacey dress. 

Ilona Koskinen's dead, suicided body was everywhere, haunting Inkeri with unwavering intent and trying to see if it could make her question the threads of her own sanity, as every waking moment slowly became marred with the vivid hallucination. 

"You go inside," Inkeri murmured to Belladonna, not taking her eyes off the corpse in case it may disappear. "I will come later."

Belladonna followed Inkeri's eyes, but saw nothing. "Okay," she said, surprisingly unquestioning for such a nosy girl. "Do not miss the feast, though." 

When she was certain that anyone who may question her was out of sight, Inkeri approached her sister. Ilona swayed slightly in the wind, a girl of only thirteen whose own thoughts had turned against her.  

"Alright," Inkeri said. Her voice was quiet and got carried away by the breeze, and had that been a real person up on the branch, her voice would have not reached their ears. "You have my attention now. Come down from there." 

For a moment, nothing happened. Ilona's eyes remained glassy and unseeing, and the silence which distilled over the atmosphere made Inkeri truly believe that her mental stability had been pushed over the precipice of ruination. 

But then the phantom's bones began to crack. She closed her eyes, eyelashes caressing hollowed cheekbones, stretching her mouth back over pearly white teeth to elicit a moan of pain, as though clambering with ghostly skeleton hands from the underworld had been a torturous journey. 

Bloodshot eyes swivelled open so suddenly that Inkeri reeled back. In doing so, she made the mistake of blinking; in the split second that it took for Inkeri to close her eyes and open them again, Ilona had disappeared from the tree. 

Now, she stood right in front of her, hardly millimetres from her face, and it took every ounce of willpower that Inkeri had to not run away screaming. 

Inkeri surveyed her sister. She looked just as Inkeri had remembered; so dissimilar, for they did not share a mother's genes. Ilona had the same crazed eyes as their father, and despite her juvenility, they twinkled with threatening intent. She didn't even look like a corpse anymore; her skin had rejuvenated, with the ruddy hue of her mother's. 

Only the furrows around her neck, where the ligature had constricted, was a telling sign of demise. Like an upside-down V shaped death sentence.

"Why are you haunting me?" Inkeri asked. The words sounded dry spoken aloud, stupid even, but she didn't know how else to put the question. 

Ilona smiled. She was pretty. "Am I?" She asked. Inkeri had yearned to hear that voice for years, but now they sounded wrong; as though her sister had stolen them from someone else's brain. "Am I haunting you? Oh. I was just observing."

"Observing," Inkeri echoed. "What, exactly?"

"You're going to fail," Ilona replied sweetly, leaning back against the tree. "Attempting to change the future, the Seer is, and he sends you? A naïve little girl, going to be murdered by the handsome boy who sweeps her off her feet!" 

She spoke the last part with a giddy tone of exclamation, but there was cruelty in her glee. "Are you the Seer now?" Inkeri sneered, but she was unnerved by Ilona's strange declaration about who she was certain was Riddle. "Did Tuonetar* turn you away from the Underworld for being too annoying?"

Ilona giggled, a puerile action seeking refuge in sinister delight. "I'm cursed," she said, in a way that could be truthful or equally deceit. "Can't be gotten rid of, sadly." 

"How about you tell me why you're here," Inkeri said, repeating her previous words, "and I'll find a way to free you."  

"Do I need a reason?" The once-older-now-younger girl asked, hopping onto the branch of the tree effortlessly. "I just wanted to revel in your failure, I suppose. Or I missed your irritated sneer. Choose whichever you fancy."  

"This isn't a joke," Inkeri said quietly, with an edge of warning. "You don't belong here. Am I to expect Ingria as well?"

This took Ilona by surprise, and in humanly fashion, she almost toppled from the branch. "She kicked the bucket too then, after I died?" Ilona asked thoughtfully. "Strange."

Inkeri had to look away. Not including Inari, she'd had three sisters; all had perished in some way or the other. One death had been a tragedy, two a shock, and three a mystery. 

"You know, my mother used to be worried that your mother cursed us. Nobody could even hold The Light Bringer accountable. At least, from what I've seen." A threatening tone had crept into Ilona's voice, and Inkeri swallowed harshly. 

Their father had spent years trying to convince the village that Lilja Koskinen was behind the death of his first-born daughter, but all that had come of his desperation was the tag of a lunatic. Even now, just like she was afraid about Adrielle, Inkeri was too afraid to ask Ilona the truth. 

"Enough," Inkeri spoke finally, "I've had enough of you. Either leave, or if you truly have nowhere to go, leave me alone."

Ilona laughed maliciously. "You silly little creature, you'll never be left alone," she said gleefully. "Your guilt is festering, and one day it will drive you completely insane; look, it already is." 

What do you mean, Inkeri wanted to scream, but Ilona had dissipated already, leaving only the groaning willow tree behind. She felt on the verge of throwing up. 

Inkeri entered the castle, which felt too dark, as though the walls were those of damnation and she could hardly breathe. They were too dark, and Inkeri felt terrorized, and she wanted to leave. 

The darkness was imminent, but there was nothing divine about it. Only the promise of the unknown, which stole her breath and filled her lungs with liquid shadows and made her hands clammy and sweaty. 

The walls which were too dark spun around her, into a web of darkness in which she was hopelessly, inexplicably tangled, from which could now never escape. Darkness was all-consuming, and it suffocated the creature of light, draining it's luminance like sustenance. 

When her eyes squinted and adjusted to the darkness, they focused on Riddle. He was on the other side of the corridor, listening to Malfoy, but his eyes were only on her, brows knitted in a frown, fists clenched in thinly concealed rage. Inkeri wondered why. 

Then she remembered— she had his wand. A hint of humour shed light on her dark thoughts at the image of him being tied to a chair in muggle London with no means for escape. 

Riddle excused himself, and made his way over to her. He seemed to be trying not to combust with rage, for it would shatter his façade, and he could only afford that in front of Inkeri when they were alone. 

"Hello, Riddle," she said brightly. Her voice was a little shaky, but no longer could she find the edge of fear he used to inspire in her. "I hope you had a good Christmas." 

"I did," he said, keeping his lips tight. Impossibly, he had grown slightly taller, as had his hair, which now fell in neat obsidian curls, resting just above his eyebrows. "I believe you have something that belongs to me." 

Hesitantly, Inkeri pulled his ebony wand from her pocket. She almost didn't want to give it back, and he seemed to sense that, grabbing it before she could change her mind. 

She turned to leave, but felt him harshly yank her back by the wrist, around which his fingers had enclosed tightly. Painfully tightly. 

"If you ever steal from me again," he said lowly, icily, "I will kill you." It was not a threat, but a fact. He spoke quietly, bowing his head so that they were close enough for only her to hear. 

She looked up so that their gazes were level, and he inched away slightly. Inkeri was unsurprised that Riddle feared proximity; she used it to her advantage, taking a step even closer, and watching as confusion and uneasiness crept into his eyes. 

She reached up to whisper into his ear, playing into the secrecy game. "You're welcome to try."

Riddle opened his mouth to retaliate, but Inkeri's thoughts were already overloaded for the day. Light seeped from her wrist, and she let it singe Riddle hand, which he quickly withdrew, aghast. She offered him a thoughtless smile, before turning with finality and leaving. 

Inkeri didn't turn back until she reached her room. She'd been hoping for a bit of solitude, but wasn't upset when she found Adrielle lounging on her bed, reading.  

Dumping her trunk, Inkeri began pulling off her jumper, eager to get out of travel-worn clothes. "Hello, Selwyn," she greeted earnestly. Her hand struck the wardrobe accidentally, creating a loud noise, to which Adrielle glared. "How was your holiday?"

"Blissfully quiet," the girl replied monotonously, looking back to her book and scowling. "You've been here for two minutes and have already interrupted that." 

The girl had grown even sallower while alone at Hogwarts; her cheekbones had always been defined but now her cheeks were sunken, and her eyes had seemingly dulled, to a more leafy green.

Inkeri smiled. She'd almost missed Adrielle for her unrelenting bluntness. "Charming as ever," she sighed. Inkeri went to sit on her bed, but the curtains around them shut suddenly. 

"Don't sit on your bed," Adrielle said needlessly, putting her wand back on the bedside table. "I cursed it by accident, thinking it was Shafiq's." 

"Oh. Which curse?" Inkeri deigned to ask. 

Adrielle smiled nastily. "Just one that I've been creating," she said, eyes shining with pride. "I thought she would make the perfect test subject... but you wouldn't."

Sighing, Inkeri muttered Finite Incantatum. Adrielle tilted her head at the sight of the wandless magic, but said nothing. The girl stared at the blonde for a few moments, and Inkeri was starting to feel unnerved when she realised that Adrielle was staring at her neck. 

The Selwyn locket rested between Inkeri's collarbones, and Adrielle's face morphed into a sinister sort of cold rage. "Where did you get that?" She asked, enough venom in her voice to instil some terror in Inkeri. 

"Just... a family friend," Inkeri said quickly. It wasn't a total lie.

"A family friend?" Adrielle repeated, enraged, and with inhuman speed she stood up and slammed Inkeri against the wardrobe. "Do you know how long I've been searching for that? You thief!" 

The manic distortion had crept into Adrielle's voice, as though someone else, masculine, was speaking too. Her eyes had turned an inky black, as she pulled Inkeri forward and then slammed her back again with such force that the wind was temporarily knocked out of her lungs. 

"Give it to me," Adrielle snarled, trying to yank it from Inkeri's throat. Retaining her senses, Inkeri drove her knee into Adrielle's stomach, and the crazed girl grunted, doubling over and turning. 

Using the distraction, Inkeri grabbed her Suonetar statue from the cupboard and brought it down directly onto Adrielle's forehead, using her stunned disposition to push her away and onto the floor. 

A moment passed, with both of them breathing heavily.

Adrielle sat up. She hadn't been knocked out— rather, she touched the blood leaking from her head with one hand, as though Inkeri had literally knocked some sense into her. Her eyes had returned to green. "Give it to me," she repeated, but this time in a normal voice, albeit strangled with emotion. "It's mine." 

"You could have just asked," Inkeri said, with a feeling of cold, numb dread draping her shoulders as she unclasped the burning locket.

"I suppose so," Adrielle muttered uncharacteristically, accepting the necklace. "Didn't think you would be so compliant."

Inkeri helped her up, then gave her a tissue to clean the blood from her wound. "I'm going to the feast now," she said. "Have you had enough loneliness for the past two week to come with me?"

"I suppose so," Adrielle said again. 

She looked at Inkeri with an unreadable look. Maybe it was confusion at the flippant way in which the blonde witch had treated her sudden attack. Inkeri would never know the foreign warmth that had blossomed in Adrielle's chest in that moment, nor how much the girl resented herself for it. 

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

Tuonetar— Lady of Death, is the female ruler of Tuonela who welcomes the dead – and the living – to the underworld.