Half Veela

November 4, 2006
Lives in
Paris, France
Significant other
No Information

Last Active: Jun 26 2018, 05:43 PM
i can feel the flames on my skin, crimson red paint on my lips


The crowd’s deafening cheer in the Scottish National Quidditch field rang through Viktor Krum’s ears as he felt the snitch catch in his hands. He spun sideways from his momentum, but his grip on the snitch never lightened up. The Quidditch field stopped spinning in his eyes, and he looked up to see the massive crowd chanting his name.

“Krum! Krum! Krum!”

Everybody knew who he was.

Twenty-seven year old Viktor Krum, Seeker for the Bulgarian National Quidditch team, and he had been for the past ten years. Prestigious graduate of Durmstrang Institute. Excelled in the Dark Arts. He was well known like the front page of the Daily Prophet.

And that’s all he ever felt he amounted to nowadays.

With the snitch between his index finger and thumb, he raised it up for the whole world to see. The crowd cheered wildly and his teammates all gathered around him in a circle, pumping their fists in their victory against the Scottish National Quidditch team. The announcer declared the final score and Bulgaria’s mighty success. It wouldn’t take long before Viktor and his team flew with pride through the crowd and back into the holding room where they waited hours ago to start the game.

Once they returned to the holding room, the team had their own private cheer for Viktor as he held the winning snitch before them. He received multiple pats on the back and invites to a nearby pub to celebrate. Viktor nodded out of habit. He absently smiled at his teammates as they shuffled out of the holding room to get ready for a night out. He looked back at the snitch in his hands and fell deep into thought for a moment. Was this going to be the rest of his life? Catching snitches, making fans happy, press conferences. But the question begged, what was missing?

“Monsieur Krum?”

Viktor snapped out of his thoughts and turned to see a small blonde standing in the doorway. She was dressed in a simple black uniform and had beautiful baby blonde hair tied up in a neat ponytail. “Who are you? You look familiar,” Viktor responded tersely, his eyes squinting to get a better look at her.

“Gabrielle. Gabrielle Delacour, monsieur,” the small blonde said, taking a small step forward. She looked less of a silhouette and more like herself when she stepped fully under the holding room lights. “You may ‘ave known my sister, Fleur?”

“Ah, yes. She vos part of the Triwizard Tournament,” Viktor mused, his mind trailing back to a much more glorious and booming part of his life. “Vot are you doing here? No guests allowed.”

“No! No, I am working for ze Ministry,” Gabrielle quickly replied, “Ze Department of Magical Cooperation for France. I wish to congratulate you.” She tilted her head and offered him a small smile of admiration.

“Thank you,” Viktor replied with a polite nod, before sitting down on a nearby bench facing away from the entrance. He expected Gabrielle to leave so that he could sink into his prior train of thought once again, but the same small voice popped up from behind him.

“I am sorry if I pry, Monsieur Krum, but you do not seem to be ‘appy zat you won ze match, no?” She stood close to where he sat this time with a genuinely concerned look on her face.

Viktor seemed to have a tinge of irritation spread across his face, but he briefly entertained Gabrielle’s persistence out of respect for her older sister. “You do pry,” Viktor commented with a dry chuckle, “Come, sit.” She obliged as he motioned to the empty space next to him. There was a few feet of space between them. Gabrielle folded her hands neatly on her lap while Viktor held up the snitch in his hand. “How old are you now, Gabrielle?”

“Eighteen, monsieur.”

“Viktor,” he corrected with a nod. For a few moments, he held the snitch in his hand and studied its designs. The carvings of each snitch were unique. He couldn’t think of any two snitches that had the same look. “Vot I vood give to be eighteen again,” he hummed pensively, eyes still glued to the snitch.

“Why?” Gabrielle had a look of concern on her face.

“It vos bliss to think that Quidditch vood be the rest of my life back then,” Viktor confessed with a sad smile, “I looked forward to this for many years, and now it feels like it’s all I have to look forward to.”

Gabrielle pursed her lips and had her share of silence as well. Now that he had mentioned it, it was difficult for her to see Viktor in any other light other than the spotlights of the Quidditch field. “What do you do when you’re not playing Quidditch?” She asked slowly.

“Ven I’m not the field, I practice. Go for interviews or parties with the team. I am an only child so, I don’t have much family to visit.”

“Do you ever ‘ave a vacation?”

“I could, but I vood rather practice on the field than spend time sitting at home.”

“Well… Don’t sit at home!” An idea popped in her head like a light had turned on and Gabrielle slowly grinned from ear to ear. Viktor noticed but warily looked at her with curiosity. “Come with me to London! We are celebrating my sister’s anniversary with her husband next weekend. They would love to ‘ave your company!”

“I couldn’t impose,” Viktor chuckled shyly.

“I don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, Viktor,” Gabrielle pressed forward. She slipped her wand from her sleeve and flicked her wrist gently. A small parchment of blue frilly paper appeared and had an address written on it in neat writing. Viktor almost crushed it with his strong grip as he peered at the address. “I’ll be waiting for you there at 9 in ze morning in Paris.”

“Paris?” Viktor repeated with a disbelieving laugh, “My home is in Bulgaria. I am not traveling to Paris and London on such short notice.”

“Well, good thing you are a wizard, no? I’m not asking you to walk there,” Gabrielle chuckled lightly and hopped off of the bench. She walked towards the entrance, but slowed down before completely exiting. “Viktor, I really hope you consider. Fleur would be thrilled to see you. And I would love to ‘ave some company on my trip.” Before he could answer, Gabrielle was already gone.

Viktor looked down at the parchment, wondering about the opportunity that had presented itself. It wasn’t until then that he realized how much of a comfort zone Quidditch became for him. If he felt stuck in the realm of sports, it was because he made it his home and locked the front door, keeping everybody else out. Maybe it was time to let others back in.


One of the best choices Viktor Krum believed he ever made was to meet Gabrielle in Paris at 9 AM on that fateful weekend. It was the weekend he would reconnect with his old friends, such as Fleur Weasley and Harry Potter, as well as meet their endless family. It was also the weekend he would start a strong friendship with Gabrielle. He would learn that she was energetic, adventurous, and always willing to strike up a conversation, just as she had after his last Quidditch match. She even enjoyed playing a round of Quidditch with the rest of the Weasley family. Viktor tried to join, but was painfully demoted to score-keeper as being on either team would’ve given an unfair advantage. Despite this, he never could recount the last time he had laughed so hard and joked so much in his life.

After his return to Bulgaria, Viktor kept in contact with Gabrielle. He took her advice and gave himself mini-vacations from the world of Quidditch whenever he needed it. He had kept his friendship with her low-key, as a way to shelter her from the paparazzi and protect their friendship from being exploited. But Gabrielle never seemed to mind all the paparazzi that followed them around on their lunch dates or weekend outings.

A few months after their trip to London, Viktor and Gabrielle met up for dinner in Paris after the latter had a slew of meetings in the Ministry. Gabrielle spent most of her evening asking Viktor to speak to her in Bulgarian, while Viktor teased her for making him feel silly for never knowing what to say when she asked. Finally, Gabrielle playfully pleaded for him to say one more phrase in Bulgarian. Viktor stayed silent for a moment, before speaking the words that he never found the courage to say until now.

“думите не могат да опишат моята любов към вас,” he uttered. It had been in his mind all day in anticipation for this dinner, and time started to slow down for him.

Gabrielle sensed the change in tone and sat upright. She looked at him with curiosity, tilting her head to the side. “What does that mean?” The blonde asked slowly.

Viktor looked at her with eyes that seemed to be lost in thought. It took him a few minutes—what felt like eternity between the two—to answer, but he finally plucked up the courage to do something he seldom ever allowed himself to do until Gabrielle came along. Be open and honest with his feelings.

“It means…words cannot describe my love for you, Gabrielle. Please be mine,” Viktor confessed, his facial expressions revealing that of an inner hopeless romantic. In his twenty-eight years of life, he can hardly recall a time he had expressed such deep feelings and meant it. It was a huge leap of faith for him, and he was afraid of the fallout.

“Viktor…” Gabi found herself lost in his deep, thoughtful eyes. It was something that she had thought about ever since their trip to London together. As someone who couldn't keep up with relationships, she was so afraid to tell Viktor how she felt about him… Until now. “So is zat translation word for word or…?”

The two broke out in lighthearted laughter. Gabrielle has a small feeling that Viktor would need something to ease the tension after he had just made himself so vulnerable to her. She knew he was the type to not appear vulnerable to anyone at all—so when he expressed his true feelings to her, her heart skipped so many beats, she could’ve sworn it just about stopped.

“I think I am falling for you too, Viktor,” Gabi began, “But is it too soon? I don’t want to ruin this.” Her confession was just as vulnerable as Viktor’s.

“Gabi, I vos not even sure I could tell you this tonight,” Viktor admitted, “But I want to keep seeing you again for a long time. I either tell you now or hold my tongue until it’s too late.”

The blonde nodded slowly, completely understanding his intentions. Honestly, she was glad that Viktor was the one to take the first step. She reached out her hand and gently laid it in Viktor’s hand. “Please be mine, too,” she repeated. The only smiled blissfully at each other, soaking in this moment.


Veronika Mirelle Delacour Krum.

Viktor grinned with pride as his beaming wife uttered their daughter’s name for the very first time. It was a cold snowy night in Bulgaria when Veronika was born; she was born on November 4th, 2006. She had bright baby blue eyes and already had a hint of blonde hair on the top of her head. Viktor could’ve sworn that the moment he first laid eyes on his daughter, he saw a mini-incarnation of Gabrielle Delacour. They spent the first year of Veronika’s life living in bliss. The couple spent most of her infancy taking as much time off as possible to be together as a family.

When Veronika turned two years of age, Viktor and Gabrielle decided to officialize their union and get married. The marriage occurred on the Parisian oceanside—on the top of a hill that overlooked a rocky beach. Several familiar families joined in on the celebration. The Weasleys, Potters, Beauforts, and Chevaliers were all in attendance. The Mistress of Magic in France and several French Ministry coworkers were there, as well as the entire Bulgarian National Quidditch team. Several scattered friends from school and through passing also attended the Delacour-Krum wedding. It was a beautiful late afternoon service, with their first dance happening at sunset. Veronika was the sole flower girl, who made quite an impression on all the guests as she walked so cutely down the aisle with her flower basket, not throwing any of the flowers until she reached her Maman and Papa and dumped the flowers right at her feet.

It was a day full of beauty, love, and laughter. No one had a doubt that Viktor and Gabrielle were right for each other, and that they would be the best parents to Veronika. The Krums were a good family that built a successful empire for themselves and—above all—their daughter.

If only things had stayed that way.


As Veronika entered her early childhood years, it became increasingly difficult for Viktor and Gabrielle to take as much time off. Viktor’s spot as Seeker for the Bulgarian National Quidditch team was about to be given up for someone who was younger and took more time to practice than he did. On the other hand, Gabrielle also had increasing competition in the French Ministry for the Mistress of Magic’s assistant. With her coworkers arguing that Gabi wasn’t dividing her time well enough, she was sure she couldn’t take as much time off as before. As a result, the couple decided it was time for them to return to their careers full-time, leaving Veronika with a nanny.

Because she was so used to having her parents around and had no siblings, Veronika felt quite lonely for the rest of her childhood. She had a no-nonsense nanny that never seemed to know how to laugh at things. Instead, Veronika was disciplined harshly at a young age. Before she started going to school, she spent most of her time reading books or doing chores, which made her dread them after years of being forced to do them. And whenever she saw her parents, Veronika craved to see them and lose the terrible nanny. More than that, Veronika wanted them to be a part of her growing up. Especially in a time where she was learning so much about the world, she craved to have parents who were there to guide her through all of it.

“Maman! Maman!” A nine-year-old Veronika yelled throughout the Krum residence in France as she ran for her maman’s office.

Gabrielle was buried in Ministry files that needed to be read through. She had a lot to read up on a rising group called Purium—a group that had a lot of pure-blood elitism that was prevalent during her childhood years, but also seemed to condemn the advancement of technology in the wizarding world as well. They seemed to present just as much danger to the wizarding and muggle worlds as much as the Death Eaters had.

“Maman! Guess what, guess what!” Veronika excitedly began as she bursted through her mother’s office doors, breaking her concentration.

“Veronika Mirielle…” Gabrielle scoffed in exasperation as she could feel her temper start to bubble. She always tended to use Veronika’s full name when it came to scolding her, especially when she was already feeling tense. “I’m working right now, Veronika. Qu’est-ce que c’est, ma chérie ?” (What is it, my dear?)

Veronika seemed to have a blind eye to her mother’s annoyed expression, too excited about the news she had to share. “Maman, I was watching the TV and I was able to turn the channel without using the remote! It is magic!” It was the first experience of magic that Veronika had in her life—something she had long been anticipating ever since her parents told her their history of living as wizards in the wizarding world.

Gabrielle wanted to encourage her daughter, but was twisted by the thought of every file that sat on her desk, waiting impatiently to be read. “Are you sure you didn’t sit on ze remote by accident?” She asked with a short cackle. Gabrielle had meant for it to be a sarcastic joke, but she realized that her daughter took it the wrong way when she saw that smile slowly fade away. “I am sorry, ma chérie. It is just… I am so busy! Look at all these files. I am really happy for you, really. Can’t we talk about this later after I am done with work?”

The young child’s smile completely faded away as she heard a swirl of feelings from her mother. It didn’t matter what else she could say to remedy the situation. Veronika had just experienced MAGIC, and she looked forward to her defining moment as a budding witch. And her mother barely budged. Veronika turned on her heels and started walking out of her maman’s office. Gabrielle sensed the tension between them and she tried to call her daughter to come back.

“Veronika, I’m sorry, chérie. Do you want to talk about your magic?”

“No, maman… I didn’t mean to bother you while you were busy,” Veronika half-heartedly retorted, barely giving her mother a second glance as she sulked back quietly to her room.


Veronika maintained a strained relationship with her mom ever since then, and it became even more prevalent once she went to school. Intending to inconvenience her mother, Veronika demanded that she be sent to Durmstrang instead of Beauxbatons. Since they lived in France, boundary rules dictated that she would have attended Beauxbatons. But Veronika argued that her father’s lineage should have at least given her the opportunity to attend Durmstrang. Much to her mother’s dismay, she reluctantly put in a request for Veronika to be transferred and was approved.

After the fact, Gabrielle delved further into her work and left her daughter to her own devices. Viktor, on the other hand, took the time to visit his daughter during the weekends they were allowed to travel off campus to a nearby village, similar to how Hogwarts students can visit Hogsmeade. During the first few visits, Viktor tried desperately to get Veronika to understand their busy schedules and desires to be successful so that they could set her up for a successful life. There was a time or two where Veronika attempted to reason with her father and get him to see that all she ever needed was their attention and time, but to no avail. She started to believe that her parents were both driven by the gains of their hard work, forgetting their daughter in the process. And by the time she was in her fifth year, her assumptions seemed to come true.

Before Veronika’s fifth year at Durmstrang began, major news had spread that her mother, Gabrielle Krum, became the youngest Mistress of Magic appointed to the French Ministry. Everyone congratulated the Krum family and acknowledged the amount of hard work Gabrielle must have put forth to finally be appointed such a prestigious position. But Veronika couldn’t recall her maman or papa getting in contact with her to let her know. Instead, she found out through the media around her. Being at Durmstrang started to feel especially tense for Veronika because one of her mother’s goals was to help keep the Ordi safe from any danger the wizarding world might try to inflict on them. Rumor spread that Gabrielle Krum cared more about subpar Ordi than her own pureblooded daughter.

And she hated it because the worst part was that she started to believe that these rumors were true.


“Why can’t I feel what I want to feel?”

Veronika sighed as she looked up at the ceiling of her empty dormitory, save for the sixteen-year-old brunette that laid undressed under the sheets of her bed. The blonde turned over and propped herself up on her elbow, looking at the beautiful person that laid with her. She smiled sadly and tucked a stray strand of silky brown hair behind the girl’s ear, tracing her cheek as she brought her hand back.

“Because vot you’re feeling right now is pity and you know you deserve better than that,” the brunette explained in her thick Bulgarian accent.

“Elena, you don’t know what’s best for me,” Veronika retorted quietly.

“Do you know vot is best for you?” Elena quickly shot back.

Veronika sighed exasperatingly and kept quiet for a few moments. She and Elena Markova had been in a casual snogging-type relationship ever since the spring term of their fifth year, which was almost a year ago. It was on and off, mainly due to both of their emotionally volatile personalities, but Veronika hasn’t found anyone that knew the way she processed thoughts and emotions quite like Elena did. And even though they never put a true label to their relationship, Veronika found herself constantly coming back to Elena, particularly during her rough patches.

“Well it’s up to me to find that out for myself, right? Apparently, I never could get someone to help me in that department. My papa’s out chasing snitches and my maman’s out saving those stupid Ordi…” Veronika sighed once more and pulled the covers over herself, as though she were trying to hide herself. But she pressed her naked body against Elena’s and kissed her gently on the shoulder. “I just want to belong, Elena. With a family who will just be present with me or…with friends who won’t see me as every little thing that’s ever gone wrong with me,” she uttered, almost in a whimper.

“Ronnie…” Elena pulled the blonde close and cradled her in her arms, smoothing the hairs on the crown of Veronika’s head. “You know I’ve never seen you as that. I see you as the beautiful, intelligent woman that I’m so lucky to be laying next to right now.” She kissed Veronika’s forehead lightly. But Veronika stayed silent, deep in her own thoughts, and unable to properly voice her feelings at this point without sounding like some complete brat, because she hated feeling this way.

“Come with me ven this year is done,” Elena continued after a beat of silence passed them.

“What? Where?” Veronika started pulling herself away from the brunette, a look of shock pervading her face.

“I am running away…to my family. To Purium. Have you heard of them?”

Veronika paused to wonder why that name was so familiar. And then she pictured it. All of the files she ever saw on her maman’s desk when she was younger read “PURIUM” in bold lettering. It was a dangerous group from what she could remember her maman reading about. “Heard of them, that’s all. How are you involved with them, Elena?” She asked curiously. And then Elena began explaining Purium's beliefs--how the wizarding world was losing itself to technology and mixing with Muggles.

She was unsure about Elena's request, not wanting to end up political like her mother. The two started getting dressed on either side of the bed as the brunette explained further. “It’s not just political. We want to preserve the traditions of the wizarding world. This is vot my family believes in, and you could be a part of it too.”

The two stayed in silence as Elena got dressed and Veronika fell deep into thought again. The latter stood up after she was fully dressed and picked up her backpack, swinging it over her shoulder. “Plus, you look absolutely stunning in red,” Elena added before giving one last deep kiss. Veronika kissed back, holding her face for a bit longer. Elena finally pulled away and started walking to the door.

“Will I see you again?” Veronika quickly turned to face the door.

Elena opened the door and looked back at Veronika, smiling slightly. “You know how to find me, babe,” she commented, before closing the door behind her. Veronika looked back at her nightstand to see a tungsten ring with black diamonds embedded on the side. It was one of a pair of enchanted rings that would light up whenever it was tapped by the holder of its twin ring. Once both lit up, either holder of the ring could apparate and be in the place of the other holder. Veronika had one ring. And the other? Why, Elena, of course.


Although her education in Durmstrang made her excel in the Dark Arts, Veronika settled for an entry-level job in the Ministry as an Obliviator Intern. She wanted a job where she worked closely with Ordi. Something about wiping their memories clean of the wizarding world brought her satisfaction while her mother was trying to promote the intermingling of Ordi and wizard. Veronika ended up excelling in her job as an Obliviator and quickly learned how to control the use of the Memory Charm.

Work wasn’t the only part of her life during her time in the Ministry. She also reconnected with old family friend Lucien Beaufort, who frequently visited the Krums with his parents when they were younger. He was one of the few people she genuinely appreciated during her childhood, as he actually spent time with her during their visits and he seemed to genuinely care about her. They had lost contact with each other during their school years because Lucien went to Beauxbatons while Veronika attended Durmstrang. However, she was glad that their friendship seemed to pick up right where it left off when they were back in contact with each other.

She confided in Lucien about her feeling subpar to the Ordi because of her maman and how she wished that wizards never wanted to reveal the truth about their world to people who most likely wouldn’t understand. Maybe their personal opinions didn’t quite align, but Veronika felt safe talking about her inner thoughts with Luc—something she hadn’t been able to do with anyone in a long time. It was this strengthening bond that developed into a relationship by the second summer after she had started working at the Ministry. She was about to turn nineteen later that year.

Despite her being able to vent her problems to Luc, Veronika still had some inner issues that couldn’t be fixed by talking it out or by going out on a date. She couldn’t shake these feelings off, and it became dangerous when she started to act on her own as an Obliviator. She spent more of her time studying Memory Charms and learning other ways to modify someone’s memory other than the charm for which her occupation was named after. One tidbit of information that she learned was the reversal curse used to undo a Memory Charm—the use of the Cruciatus Curse. If someone was tortured enough, it could reverse the effects of someone who had undergone the work of an Obliviator. And the gears in Veronika’s head started to turn once more.

Veronika initially tried to confide in Lucien about these ideas, and she shouldn’t have been shocked when someone as light-hearted as him thought that she had gone bonkers. But she felt heartbroken that he couldn’t understand the perspective she was coming from, especially when her reason had been the same since the beginning. The Ordi didn’t deserve to be a part of the wizarding world. They hardly deserve such mercy from the Ministry. She thought a more severe punishment should have been in order for those who tried to let themselves in. It was the polarizing difference between their ideologies that ended Veronika and Lucien’s relationship. Veronika was heartbroken to say the least—not only at the thought of crossing off another lover’s name on the list, but also at the thought of losing her closest friend. The nagging feeling that she was supposed to go through this world alone grew stronger. But maybe this time, it didn’t have to be a bad thing. Maybe she needed to learn resilience and trying to depend on others was hurting her chances.

She knew one thing for sure. If she couldn’t feel like a part of the wizarding world, then the Ordi definitely shouldn’t even think twice.


A ragged man kneeled in the center of a dark basement, a single light shining right over him. He had ropes tied around his wrists and ankles, and he had a burlap sack covering his head. He tried to struggle his way out of his entanglements occasionally, but to no avail. A group of red-hooded figures appeared under the light, surrounding him in a circle. One of the taller figures unhooded themselves—revealing a tall man with sleek black hair and sporting a frown that seemed to deepen the wrinkles on his face.

“Fellow members,” he began, “Today we have a sad tale. This is a Muggle. A Muggle who happened to witness several wizards apparating in front of a pub that was just by Diagon Alley, but still in the Muggle world. His curiosity got the best of him and he attempted to inquire for more information from other wizards, unbeknownst to him. He was quickly apprehended by them and sent to the British Ministry of Magic to have his memories modified. But, I know we all agree when I say there’s a much better way to handle mudbloods who dare attempt to traverse into the wizarding world, yes?”

Several scowls and sneering laughter could be heard amongst the red hoods—the Purium members. They were all mocking the man who tried and failed at freeing himself, while also reveling in anger that he would dare give into his curiosity.

“Sir, I have a suggestion,” a younger voice sounded out of the ring of Purium members. Another red hood fell back and revealed Elena Markova, who stood with her parents and another red-hooded figure that was about the same height as her. “I know of someone who aligns with our beliefs and also works for the Ministry, as an Obliviator. Perhaps she could be of help.”

The group broke out into whispers and hushed concerns amongst themselves. It was rare that a Ministry worker joined Purium. There was already a huge lack of trust in the Ministry—letting one of their own in was certainly a huge deal. But the leader seemed piqued at this offer and decided to entertain Elena. “Bring her forward,” he commanded.

Elena looked back at the red-hooded figure and beckoned her forward. She stepped up to Elena’s side and brought down her red hood. For the first time, Veronika revealed herself as one of Purium’s members. “Your name?” The leader asked slowly.

“Veronika Krum."

The room fell silent. The leader studied Veronika closely, his mind working quietly as he tried to decide whether or not he should trust the daughter of the French Ministry. “And…how do you believe we should handle this, Miss…Krum?” He bared his teeth as he uttered her last name, feeling a bad taste in his mouth.

“If I may, sir,” Veronika bowed before him and started walking inside the circle until she was face-to-face with the Muggle. Quickly, she ripped the burlap sack over the man’s head, revealing his terrified expression to the Purium members surrounding him. “Welcome."

The man started begging for his life and his freedom. But Veronika wouldn’t entertain this tonight. “It seems as though you may have been wrongfully punished for something and we’re here to right all of that,” she began sweetly, almost in an angelic tone. The man smiled mercifully at her words, thinking that he was about to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Veronika brought herself down to the man’s ear and hissed, “You should have gotten worse, you filthy mudblood!” Veronika smacked him across the face, her long nails leaving a scratch along his jawline. She pulled out her wand from her sleeve and held it straight at the man struggling in front of her, her manner intent on inflicting damage.


The man writhed in pain and begged for Veronika to stop. When she finally let go, the memory charm was reversed and he remembered the wizards who vanished that day. He promised in tears that he would never speak of the wizarding world. "Of course you won't," she responded placidly, "Because I won't give you a chance to." The man looked at her with wide frightened eyes as she pointed her wand right at the bridge of his nose. A beat of silence.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Everybody knew who she was. At least, they thought they did.
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