Prompt: photos. Write a 100-word or 500-word chapter that features a photo and someone's reaction to it. It could be either the photo being taken or being looked at.

You can pick a photo on Google or imagine it, as you like.

Why?

The mirror. Years ago she looked in it. Was it really only yesterday? I stare in it now. Her face stares back.

Her room... Her clothes are gone. Her jewellery is gone. All her books, all her ornaments, all her photos...

But wait! She missed one. It must have fallen out of her trunk as she packed. Hastily. Untidily. Not like Dromeda. So she could run off with a ... No not like Dromeda at all.

The glass is intact. Three girls wave back at me. The youngest is only five. Her golden hair glinting in the sunlight as she giggles. She sits precariously on the oldest's lap. Me. Laughing fit to burst at something my middle sister just said.

My middle sister.

She's smirking.

Her paper eyes catch mine. From the photo she waves. In the photo she is sure I will wave back. In the photo we are friends. In the photo she is my sister.

I can't stop looking at her. A mirror image of myself. We were identical at that age. As we got older her hair lightened from ebony black to a dark brown. Every year it got lighter. I wonder how light it will get. I'll never know will I? Now that she...

Why did she do it?

Why did she do it?

Why did she do it?

The question is screamed in my head, echoing through my brain, demanding an answer struggling for release and the only release I can give it is to scream myself.

"Why Dromeda! Why!"

Why did you leave me?

Why did you choose that filth?

Why have you made it so Narcissa can't look at me without seeing you?

Why have you made it so I can't look at myself without seeing you?

The picture smirks back at me.

I no longer know if I'm screaming aloud or in my head.

I hurl the photo to the other side of the room. It smashes against the wall and falls to the ground in a million pieces.

That's my heart, Dromeda. That's what you've done to my heart.

But it's only the frame that's broken. The picture is intact. That little girl who looks so like me is still smirking. She grins wickedly up at me.

You can't touch me.

I can, I can! I will destroy your life like you destroyed mine. I will use my wand to burn you from my life.

I can't.

I can't burn the picture.

The girl in the photo. She's my sister.

Some stranger took her away from me.

A stranger with fair hair, blue eyes and filthy muggle blood running through his veins.

He stole her.

He worked her into some muggle trance. Eliminate the muggle, and Andomeda will be pure again. Eliminate the muggle, and Dromeda will come home.