Pandora was blessed with The Sight. At least, that’s what everyone always called it. A blessing.
Pandora refused to consider herself blessed. Each night she begged the deity responsible for this cruel joke to take back their gift. What unforgivable crimes had she committed in a previous life?
A Curse. In Pandora’s opinion, that was a much more appropriate word for such an affliction.
Cursed to wake in a cold sweat from nightmares, crying silent tears that didn’t, couldn’t, simply go away with a gentle reminder that nightmares aren’t real.
She knew otherwise.
The house elves always had a hot chocolate ready for her. Regulus was never surprised to find a small figure curled up in his bed.
Pandora was cursed to watch all of her friends die, twice. And both times, she could do nothing but stand by and watch.