Harry's twin || Between Light and Shadow

August 22

Daisy opened her eyes. The room was shrouded in darkness, and for a moment, she couldn't make out where she was. She blinked several times, her vision slowly adjusting to the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains. The familiar shapes of her bedroom came into focus—the worn wooden dresser, the stack of books on her nightstand, and the faint outline of her Hogwarts trunk in the corner.

What happened? she thought, her mind foggy.

The last thing she remembered was the chaos at Flourish and Blotts—the fight between the Malfoys and the Weasleys. She must have blacked out and Molly must have brought her back to the cottage.

She glanced at her calendar on the wall, the current date glowing in blue.

August 22?! She's been out for 4 days!

Daisy tried to shift herself upright, but her body protested with a dull ache. Her throat was parched, her mouth dry as parchment. She reached for her wand on the nightstand, her hand trembling slightly, and tapped an empty mug beside it. The cup filled with cool, clear water, and she gulped it down in one go, the liquid soothing her raw throat. She's never been more glad to learn how to do the spell non-verbally.

"Haa..." she sighed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. The water had never tasted so good.

She stretched her arms, trying to shake off the lingering fatigue, and carefully swung her legs over the side of the bed.

Her feet touched the cold wooden floor, and she took a moment to steady herself before standing.

She shuffled out of her room, each step deliberate and cautious. The cottage was quiet, save for the soft creak of the floorboards beneath her feet. As she neared the kitchen, she noticed a faint golden glow spilling into the hallway. Peering around the corner, she saw a familiar figure sitting at the worn wooden table by the window, his half-moon glasses glinting in the candlelight.

"Ah, I see that you are up," said Albus Dumbledore, his voice warm and calm.

"Professor Dumbledore?" Daisy said, startled. She hadn't expected to find the headmaster of Hogwarts in her kitchen. "What brings you here, sir?"

Dumbledore smiled gently, his blue eyes twinkling. "Well, Molly and Hagrid notified me of your condition. I thought it best to check on you myself."

"I see," Daisy replied, still trying to process his presence. She had never spoken to Dumbledore one-on-one before, and the sight of him in her humble cottage felt almost surreal.

"Come, child, sit," Dumbledore said, gesturing to the chair across from him. "Your body hasn't fully recovered yet."

Daisy obeyed, settling into the chair and folding her hands in her lap. She waited silently, unsure of what to say or ask. The air felt heavy with unspoken questions, and Dumbledore seemed to sense her unease.

"I'm sure you have many questions, Daisy," he said, his tone encouraging.

"Yes, sir," she replied, relieved that he had given her permission to speak. "What happened to me?"

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. "Well, Daisy, I'm sure you've heard about dark magic before, yes?"

Daisy nodded. She had read about it in books and heard whispers of it in the halls of Hogwarts, but it had always felt distant, something that happened to other people.

"You, Daisy, have a strong affinity for dark magic," Dumbledore continued, his expression serious but not unkind. "Exposure to it can cause you distress."

Daisy frowned, trying to make sense of his words. "What does that mean, sir?"

Dumbledore's eyes softened. "Think of it this way. Imagine stepping out into a cold winter's day. At first, the chill bites at your skin, and it's deeply unpleasant. But the longer you stay in the cold, the more your body adjusts. You might even become numb to it. That's what it's like for you with dark magic, Daisy. You feel it more acutely than most, but over time, your body will learn to adapt."

Daisy nodded slowly, the analogy helping her understand. "So... the blackouts?"

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "How have they been lately?"

Daisy hesitated, surprised by the question. Hagrid and Molly must have mentioned her blackouts to him. "They haven't happened since the exam night, sir."

"Hmm, how curious," Dumbledore murmured. "And before that?"

"Occasionally, sir," Daisy admitted.

Dumbledore stared waiting to hear more. "Any significant instances?"

She paused and replied, "The first Quidditch match of the season, sir."

Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with interest. "I see."

"Would you happen to know anything about that, sir?" Daisy asked, her curiosity piqued.

"I suspected that a very dark magic was used that day," Dumbledore said. "I'm sure you recall the incident with Mr. Potter's broom?"

Daisy's eyes widened. "Yes, sir. Was someone hexing it?"

"Precisely," Dumbledore said. "I believe your sensitivity to dark magic caused you to react strongly to the spell. However, I suspect you'll experience fewer blackouts as you grow more accustomed to such influences. Minor dark magic shouldn't cause you much distress anymore, though you'll still be able to sense it."

Daisy felt a small wave of relief. At least she wouldn't have to worry about collapsing at random moments all the time. "Thank you, sir," she said quietly.

Dumbledore smiled and rose from his chair, his robes shimmering in the candlelight. "Now that you're feeling better, I should take my leave. I wouldn't want to disturb your recovery too much. Hagrid will be back later tonight, so you needn't worry."

"Thank you, sir," Daisy said again, standing as well.

With a nod and a faint woosh, Dumbledore disapparated, leaving Daisy alone in the quiet cottage. She stood there for a moment, staring at the empty space where he had been, her mind racing.

An affinity for dark magic, she thought, sinking back into her chair. The idea was both unsettling and intriguing.

What did it mean for her? Was it a curse or a gift? And why had Dumbledore taken such a personal interest in her?

The questions swirled in her mind as she gazed out the window at the moonlit garden.