Strange Contracts 03. 03. 2020 Reducio "Then a bargain is struck. The power to walk your own path, at the cost of everything." "A contract between you and I. The power to feel, at the cost of your fortitude." "A deal then. The capacity to dominate their mind, in exchange... your heart." Belonged to women, all of the voices. Different women, each of them. "Know bliss, hunger for more." "She will love you... enough." "I can bring her back, but it will cost you." I have had little glimpses of things that were going to happen before, but never like this. It had always been more like a feeling that brought me to do something without actually thinking about it. This time it was very different. One moment I was annoyed about Dan and Gray, in the next it felt like I got punched in my stomach. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't even see. And then there were those voices, all female, who talked about contracts. I am sure that it has something to do with people in the castle- not me. But who? ═══════════════════════════	The Ravensburgs' 28. 12. 2021 Reducio Opeila was in a parlour, similar to the Virtanen one, but it wasn't their house. Houseelves were collecting empty teacups from a table, quickly and quietly, like little shadows. There was a man, his trembling back turned in her direction. He was holding himself on a window sill and his breath went quick and uncontrolled. "Are you sure it is them...", Opeila heard him ask, "Are they really gone?" Another figure whom Opeila first hadn't noticed stepped closer. "Yes. I inquired in the St. Mungos, as you asked me too. No Fioria Ravensburg or Crane, but a Fioria Seilun died in there. The first name is rare, so I investigated further and managed to track her back to a house in Cambridge that belonged to Margary Crane. They lived there with a muggle man, Nicholas Seilun and..." The man stopped talking, seemingly uncomfortable. Leopold Ravensburg turned away from the window sill, his face like stone, only the fist that was clenched tightly around a newspaper showed how emotional he was. "And what? Maybell lived with them? How did they all die? Where are they?" The man shook his head. "No, Leo. Maybell was given away. I managed to find her, she lived with a muggle family called Tanner, but died of a muggle illness. I am sorry. It is..." The man sighed and nervously ran a hand through his hair. "They had a daughter. Fioria and the muggle man. Opeila, she is visiting Hogwarts now." Leopold showed no reaction at first. He simply stared at the man, the poor messenger who was seemingly getting more and more uncomfortable. Finally, Leopold through the newspaper on the table, anger darkening his features. "That girl should have been my child. The heir of the Cranes, the one who inherited the seer gene. She would have strengthened the Ravensburgs' position. Where is she now? At Hogwarts? Her mother is dead, her grandmother is dead and her father is hiding from me, she has to be somewhere else. She has to have different guardians." The man shook his head. "It appears that they hid the girl. I couldn't track her, it has to be an unofficial thing. No one knows about her whereabouts and I can't just go up to Hogwarts and ask." Impatiently, Leopold waved his hand. "Well, find her then. Try harder. It's time to unite her with the remains of her family. Dorian is still there and... Well, despite her inconvenient bloodstatus, I believe she might have a chance. With my help even more." The man nodded and stepped away, at the same time as Opeila's view became blurry again. ═══════════════════════════	A Dark Fate 29. 08. 2022 Reducio Roots broke through the earth, black and gnarled. The severed earth overturned, the roots would encroach upon a wall made of grey stone. Initially it was too close, one would try as they may to identify what or where the site of this vision was, it was too close to tell at first... then the vision panned out, as if they had stumbled back away from the breech. It as the stone edifice of Hogwarts castle. The wall would tremble, the mortar would crumble and the wall would break. The wall broken, the rubble nary a barrier as something dark skittered over the fractured remains of the wall. The moonlight illuminated the profile of these creatures, their dark chitinous form. They resembled the spiders, unique in their physical form due to a strange segment in their thorax that was unique to Vladimir's spiders for those who had seen them. Only, these were not mere shadows, they had a terrible, true form. These were corporeal and they were many. There would be laughter, then there would be screams. ═══════════════════════════
Hexwizard Horrors 23. 10. 2022 Reducio A pillar of flames, she would hear screams and smell burning oak and hoking black smoke. The image, but a flash, like a photograph that would be there and then gone in the blink of an eye. ═══════════════════════════	Vlad's Screams 29. 01. 2025 Reducio Vladimir would be nowhere to be found in her thoughts. As invasive as the Legilimens was, he was otherwise occupied in a mortal combat of his own. Yet as odd as it was, she would hear something besides Finnegan. A scream, distant and pained. It sounded familiar because it was, it was Vladimir's voice. This desperate, awful sound. But she did not hear it with her ears, she was hearing it in her head. Was he reaching out? No. She was reaching him. This was a vision, but there was no image. Nothing to frame with visual perspective. Just disembodied sounds. Grunts, huffs, whines, screams. ═══════════════════════════	Nightmare Wedding 01. 07. 2025 Reducio Guests did not hear a sound when the glass shattered, only a flash of light. However, Seers had a different experience. There was this sound when the glass broke. The noise was this keening sound, high and wet, like laughter choked by drowning. The Seer does not see the ceremony or the Sanctum any longer. They were somewhere else. They would find themselves by a sea, black and steaming. The reckless waters reflected a sky split open by seven moons. The shoreline was black stone, shaded by a shelf of porous earth. The Seer would see a figure standing in the surf, ankle-deep, cloaked in veils that flutter without wind. The figure turned towards you. Familiar white hair, a Seer's mane, their eyes the same color. Their sight was unnatural, eyes wrong: lidless, luminous, watching from every mirrored surface. Then the Seer would see hands. Thousands of them, gloved in lace, clawing at the surface of the rough waters from within. Each hand bore a ring. Each ring carries a different crest. The Seer feels one press against their shoulder. No pain, just weight, then heat, then the crushing sensation of being seen by something vast and ancient that does not blink. The hand gloved, bearing a ring with a symbol you know you have seen before. Seen today in fact. A voice whispers, not in the Seer’s ears, but inside their lungs: "The mirror shows no future. Only the memory of what could not be buried." The ceremony flickers back into view, but everything is out of sequence. The bride is a child. The groom is a corpse. The priest is laughing with blood on his collar. And the guests… besides the Seers were statues. And then... the prophets take a gasping breath, as if they had held their breath too long. In a blink, the ceremony is as it was. Only a moment had passed. ═══════════════════════════
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Opeila Sezuna Winters - Seventh Year - Slytherin