[Short Tragedy]
She knew full well that she was a despicable, cunning thief.
Her quiet nature and the ambition in her bones drew her to bloodshed and fear.
Her instinctive knack for weighing every advantage made her a true Slytherin.
Yet she could only be a Ravenclaw.
She could only be, and had to be, a Ravenclaw who valued knowledge over ambition.
Deep down, she knew that aside from their intelligence, she was no different from those deranged and wicked Death Eaters. Perhaps the only difference was her birth.
She was a half-blood born into Ravenclaw.
At the end of her life, she looked back and realized that all of this had been fated from the very beginning.
Fate had already made its moves in secret, waiting for her to unknowingly accept a gift with its recipient named long ago. The price, however, would take her whole life to repay.
Aberforth, I'm sorry. If only I could call you brother one last time... But I'm already too weak to speak, unable to make a sound.
Images began to rise before her eyes like scenes from a film. In a daze, she seemed to see that summer again: her young self standing before Aberforth, a stray lock of hair swaying by her cheek as he gently tucked it behind her ear.
"Whatever you choose, I won't be disappointed, because you are my sister."
The tender voice of long ago sounded in her ears once more, accompanying her sinful soul as it journeyed toward the mysterious heaven of legend.
"Is death really a great adventure, brother?"
"It will be, as long as you aren't afraid of it."
Goodbye, brother. I'm going on this great adventure...
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