83, Fearful
All but one room slept soundly. From the east wing of the Manor a single candle flickered ominously as a dark girl bent over it and continued to recite her gothic fairy tales.
“He came to her a bleeding ghost and—“
“Stop! Stop! You miserable wretch, can’t you see you’re frightening her?” Andromeda said, gesturing to her blonde haired, five year old sister who was cowering beside her.
Bellatrix laughed harshly, much too harshly for a mere nine year old. “If widdle Cissy can’t take a widdle ghost story then what good is she?”
“She’s just frightened, that’s all.”
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