Chapter Text
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March 31st, 2004 — the birth of Y/N Crimson.
Two years before the First Wizarding War (1995–2006) ended, the newlyweds — Caspian and Amaryllis — welcomed a beautiful baby girl into the world. A blessing from God himself accorded upon the good British people. The chosen one who would save them from the tragedy that is Lord Voldemort.
Until the spouses vanished and fled the country to leave the war for their child's safety.
"Be perfect."
Y/N Crimson never understood what made her special until those two words were imprinted in her mind like a brand. How could she, an impressionable little girl, be anything but, when her parents were Caspian Crimson and Amaryllis Thornfield — heirs to the two most powerful dynasties in the Wizarding World?
"Be perfect."
Y/N looked downcast. That day, Caspian caught her in cahoots with Alexa Lenker, daughter of the Lenker family. The Crimsons forbade everything the Lenkers were — too naïve, too liberal, too much; they hung a pride flag on their front door, hosted Sunday barbecues, and invited No-Majs to their table — the 'freaks' Caspian spat the word like poison for.
He tried to sue them for kidnapping, but Amaryllis shut it down before his claims even reached court. The morning after, Y/N woke up to shattered glass and broken walls. She was five.
"Be perfect."
Caspian, hands clasped over his desk, looked down at Y/N with a gaze so cold it made her flinch.
Y/N had punched the boy he told her to befriend, but she didn't want to be his friend — he was cruel, snide, and empty. Caspian didn't care. He grounded her for a week and made her apologize. She was eight.
"Be perfect."
It was Y/N's debut. The first of the many forthcoming endless formal parties she'd have to attend, parties where Caspian would parade her around the fathers of bachelors he wanted her to marry. She was ten.
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"Y/N, come on!"
Evangeline, two years older and always two steps ahead, held Y/N's hand and pulled her along. They were halfway down Stone Hill Road, wind in their hair.
"Are you sure about this, Eve?" Y/N asked as they trailed further and further away from the sanctity of their gated community. "Mom doesn't let me go to this part of town."
Evangeline — who had a knack for ghost stories and breaking into abandoned buildings — rolled her eyes. "Don't be such a baby. You've sneaked out before."
"Yeah, but never here!" Y/N said as she squeezed Evangeline's hand tighter, trying to pull her back. "Aren't there dangerous people here?"
Evangeline turned around to face her, a frown on her lips. "Don't back out now. You promised you'd join me, Y/N."
Y/N glanced away and sighed, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to find a response, only to find none. With a bite of her lip, she looked up at Evangeline and nodded.
"Fine."
Years of neglect left the house on the corner of Hawthorne Street abandoned, with boarded-up windows, a half-caved-in roof, and paint stripped by time and salt air. Local kids said it was haunted. Some said a man still lived inside. Most didn't dare find out.
STAY OUT.
DIE, DIE, DIE.
HE SHALL RISE.
Obsessive graffiti covered the house, but Evangeline didn't believe in caution. She kicked open the gate and slipped through the fence down the overgrown garden, tall weeds brushing against their kneecaps.
"See that?" Evangeline pointed to a cracked window just above ground level — wide enough for them to crawl through. "Come on, boost me up."
Y/N met her gaze, already knowing nothing she said would change her mind. She puffed her cheeks in annoyance and dropped to one knee.
Even though Y/N was two years younger, she was taller. Sturdier too — a fact Evangeline exploited without shame.
Evangeline ruffled Y/N's hair with a grin before stepping onto her shoulder and grabbing the ledge. She hoisted herself up and slipped inside with a thud.
A second later, her hand reached back through the opening.
"Take my hand."
Y/N hesitated. The house gave off a strange, heavy feeling — the musky air inside was a stark difference from the rose-scented purifiers she grew up on.
With a huff, she bit back a retort and begrudgingly took Evangeline's outstretched hand. The older girl gripped her tight — tighter than expected — and with a sharp grunt, yanked Y/N forward.
The window's edge scraped against Y/N's ribs as she wriggled through. Her foot slipped, but Evangeline caught her before she could fall.
"You okay?" Evangeline asked.
Y/N nodded and dusted herself off. "Yeah."
The house was dim, lit only by slivers of light pushing through boarded windows. It smelled of rot and decay — like something inside it died.
"Ugh, what is that?" Y/N said as she pinched her nose to mask the smell.
"Probably just a dead animal," Evangeline said with a shrug. "Let's check upstairs."
Y/N shook her head. "No way. We look around downstairs, then we leave."
"Fine, fine," Evangeline held her hands up, walking toward the hallway.
Y/N trailed behind Evangeline, and that's when she heard it — a low creak from the back room. She froze and pulled Evangeline back. "Let's leave; I think someone lives here."
"It's probably just a rat; don't be so dramatic," Evangeline said as she shrugged Y/N's hand off.
Another creak.
Y/N turned around at the sound, eyebrows furrowed. Her throat bobbed, and she followed the noise — her heartbeat beating like a drum in her chest.
A figure shuffled from the shadows, and she reached the corner of the room. Y/N squeezed her eyes and willed herself to take a step forward. When she opened her eyes, she saw —
A cat.
Ragged and gray, with one torn ear and a tail that swished like it owned the place.
"See?" Evangeline laughed from behind her. "What'd I tell you — "
In an instant, a man — clothes stained, skin like ash, hair matted and wild — burst from the shadows behind the hallway door and pressed a rusted blade against Evangeline's throat.
"You don't belong here," he said.
"Let her go," Y/N said, taking a step forward. "We didn't mean — "
"I said," he pressed the knife harder against Evangeline's skin, "you don't belong!"
Evangeline's body tensed, and her breath turned shallow. The knife's edge nicked her skin, a thin line of red blooming along her throat.
"Y/N," her eyes looked into Y/N's, almost pleading. "Do something."
Y/N couldn't move.
The man's eyes were wide — freakishly so — and his body shook, not from fear, but with rage.
"You don't belong," he said, louder this time. "This is his house. His! And you — you — you're filth."
Evangeline whimpered, and that broke something in Y/N. In the blink of an eye, she pounced on him like a cat. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and she pinned him down, pressing her hands against his face.
The man writhed beneath her, his filthy fingers trying to pry her hands off — but Y/N didn't let go. She pressed her palms against his face harder, blinded by adrenaline.
His movements slowed. His fingers twitched once. Then twice.
And then . . . nothing.
His breathing grew weak, and his arms fell limp at his sides.
Y/N stared down at him, breathless and panting. Her hands still splayed across his face, her fingers aching from how hard she'd held on.
"I think he passed out."
Evangeline didn't answer. She was standing a few feet away, silent and staring — not at Y/N, but at the man. At his face.
A foul stench wisped by her — like charred meat and scorched hair.
Y/N's nose scrunched. "What is that smell?"
Evangeline didn't speak. Couldn't. She stepped closer, eyebrows furrowed. She dropped to her knees beside the man, gagging as the scent hit her fully.
And then she saw it.
His face was blistered, blackened, and peeling like scorched paper. His cheek had melted onto the floorboard, one eye fused shut, the other wide and glassy.
"Oh my God," Evangeline stumbled back, clasping a hand over her mouth. "Y/N . . . what did you — his face — "
Y/N scrambled away, shaking as she stared down at her palms. "I didn't — I wasn't trying to hurt him. I just wanted to hold him down, I just — "
Evangeline shook her head and turned on her heel. She kicked down the front door and ran away, gagging — leaving Y/N kneeling beside a man whose face had melted under her hands.
She didn't cry.
She just sat there, blinking at the wall, waiting for someone to come.
Anyone.
Eventually, someone did.
Red and blue lights flickered from the windows, and the sound of police sirens rang in Y/N's ears. Still, she didn't move. The man's scorched face stared back at her — twisted, mangled, and unrecognizable.
"Y/N!"
A woman's voice — panicked and on the verge of tears — came stumbling through. The door, barely hanging on its hinges, burst open to reveal a hysterical Amaryllis.
"Y/N!" Amaryllis ran over, wrapping her arms around the girl. "Do you know how worried sick I've been — ?"
Her eyes swept the room — and stopped dead.
There, just feet away, lay the body.
Amaryllis's face changed. The worry in her eyes was replaced by a wave of revulsion. She didn't cause a scene — just stared, lips parted in disbelief.
Footsteps followed behind her — heavier, more impatient.
Caspian.
He stormed in, his jaw tight, wand at the ready. "What the hell is — "
Then he saw it.
Caspian scoffed under his breath. "Bloody hell."
Y/N opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She didn't know what to say. She didn't even know how it happened. "I didn't mean to — "
"That's what you're going with?" Caspian stepped closer. "You didn't mean to melt a man's face off? What is wrong with you?"
"She was defending herself," Amaryllis said, standing in front of Y/N like a shield.
"She killed someone!"
"Shut it!" Amaryllis shot him a glare. "Merlin, I was gone for one day, and you couldn't even keep your eye on her?"
"That's — " Caspian's lip curled. "We can fix this. Pay off the responders. Wipe a few memories."
"You think this is about optics?"
"It always is, isn't it?"
Amaryllis said nothing for a long moment.
Then, calmly, she turned back to Y/N and crouched beside her. "Go outside, sweetheart. Wait by the car."
"But — "
"Y/N," Amaryllis cut her off, leaving no room for buts. "Go."
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"What were you thinking?" Caspian, as soon as he got home from the crime scene, stormed into Y/N's room and pulled her out of bed. "I gave you everything — and you repay me with this?"
Y/N stumbled, still in her pajamas, half-asleep and too shocked to speak. "I didn't mean to — "
"You didn't mean to?" he cut her off, shoving her back against the wall. "You didn't mean to mutilate someone's face in the middle of a goddamn squatter house?"
Y/N flinched at the impact, her shoulder hitting the edge of the dresser with a thud — sending a jolt of pain through her body. Her eyes widened, but she refused to cry.
"I was trying to help her," she managed to choke out. "He was going to hurt Evangeline."
"And now you've made us look like monsters!" Caspian's fist connected with the wall. "You think they're going to care that he had a knife? You think they're going to forget what they saw? A child with power she can't control — "
"I didn't ask for this," Y/N said, louder this time. Her fists balled at her sides as she held back tears. "You're the ones who ran from a war — "
Then, without warning, he slapped her.
Hard.
Y/N's head snapped to the side. Her cheek burned, and she collapsed onto the floor.
"That's enough."
Amaryllis stood in the doorway, hair still damp from the rain, her coat clinging to her shoulders.
"She needs discipline — "
"One more word," she pinched the bridge of her nose, "and I swear to God, Caspian, I'll hex your tongue out."
Caspian turned to her, face red, breathing heavily. "She murdered someone, Amaryllis. Do you even grasp how deep in shit we are?"
"It'll be you next if you don't shut up," she said. "Because if I ever see you lay another hand on her again — "
"She's dangerous."
"She's ten."
"I'm leaving," she said simply. "And I'm taking full custody."
Caspian stared at her as if she had two heads. "You can't do that."
"I can." Amaryllis walked over to Y/N, grabbed her hand, and dragged the girl away. "And I will."
That winter, Amaryllis left him.
One moment, Y/N was half-asleep in the passenger seat of a glossy black Chevrolet, teddy bear in her lap. Next, she was watching her mother kick open the Crimson Manor's grand oak doors, screaming like a woman possessed.
Caspian stood slack-jawed in his dressing gown, a flushed brunette ducking behind him in nothing but her lingerie. Amaryllis didn't flinch. She walked straight past them — up the stairs, into Y/N's room, and packed her daughter's life into two suitcases and a jewelry box.
Y/N never saw her father again.
He didn't fight for custody. Didn't follow them. Some said he was too ashamed. Others claimed Amaryllis had something on him — something so devastating it shut even Caspian Crimson up for good.
Whatever it was, it worked.
Amaryllis kept the house in Cornwall. Sent Y/N to the best tutors. Let her cut her hair short if she wanted. Taught her how to brew potions, how to recognize a liar, how to walk into a room and own it.
No more ballrooms, no more arranged playdates with sons of social climbers, no more "be perfect."
Instead, more of "be you."
And that's exactly what Y/N was going to be.
୨⎯ TO BE CONTINUED ⎯୧