This is the 4th installment of an ongoing series. If you are unfamiliar with "The Luckiest series," I would advise you read the other stories first. The order goes like this:

The Luckiest

Unlucky

As Luck Would Have It

Running out of Luck (this story)

Please bear in mind that I am not an experienced author. I am constantly learning new things and my style is always changing. Please be patient with my previous stories that may be somewhat poorly-written, awkward, or otherwise unsatisfactory. I would hope that in the years to come, after I have further improved that you would have the same patience for this one!

Enjoy :) We're jumping right into the plot of this one.

History tends to repeat itself.

As luck would have it, I am going through hell again.

One of the worst things in this world is to see your children in pain. To see them suffering, hurting, frightened, screaming, crying.

I really thought it was over. To me, it seemed that the nightmares had ended, that Lilith's siblings had let her find peace and be unafraid. For the first time since Umbridge's men had attacked her she slept sweetly and soundly: no bad dreams, no sobbing at three in the morning. The peace lasted for about a year. For a year, we no longer needed hope; we stored it away because there was no reason to use it up. I'm glad we did, because I think we're going to run dry our supply of it.

This hell didn't start back up right away. By right away, I mean when things started to get... weird. I should've been concerned when Lilith started talking about her friend. When Lilith began to talk about a mysterious girl for the first time on her third birthday, I had gone through a list of all the young children in our family, but Lilith protested. She was not talking about Andrea or Proserpina, and I even asked about the boys, but it was not Gemini or Teddy either. Lilith insisted that she didn't know the little girl's name, but she could describe her vividly. She had brown curly hair, pale skin, and big eyes. She was Lilith's height and age. It dawned on me that maybe my daughter was talking about herself.

"Are you sure you weren't just looking in the mirror?" I teased, but Lilith violently shook her head with an offended look on her face that clearly said, "Don't undermine my intelligence, mother," so I pushed the matter no further.

It made Voldemort uneasy from the very beginning.

"Are you sure there isn't something wrong?" he asked as she played "potion-time" with a girl invisible to everyone other than herself.

I reassured him with a hand on his shoulder, "Little girls have big imaginations. Just give it some time. The twins are only one year old; they still chew on her toys more than they play with them. She's probably just lonely."

But the odd behavior only increased. I began to wonder if maybe she wasn't getting enough interaction with kids her own age, so I had Tonks bring Teddy and Andrea over more often. But soon, she was introducing the nonexistent friend to them too, alienating her own cousins with her fictitious friend.

"Lilith, don't you think you should maybe play without your friend sometimes? Everyone needs a little alone time," I told her.

"I can't, Mother," she gasped. "She's so sad and lonely. She just wants someone to see her!"

And if that wasn't bothersome enough, Lilith began to treat her like a real person. She refused to sleep on one side of the bed, held her hand wherever she went, begged me to put out an extra plate of food for a girl who would never eat it.

Voldemort could not take it any longer when Lilith threw a fit that her friend didn't get ice cream like the rest of us. He snapped.

"You need to stop this," he told the three-year-old abruptly, who stopped mid-cry, and stared at him with wide eyes and tear-stained cheeks. "I have no problem with you playing games. But this- this has become an obsession. See those two people right there?" he demanded, pointing towards Proserpina and Gemini, "Do you know who they are? They are your siblings. Your brother and sister. Or have you forgotten them? They are real people Lilith. I want you to stop this nonsense and acknowledge your own family. This isn't a game anymore. Do you understand?"

Lilith's head was tilted towards the ground.

"Lilith," I encouraged softly, "please look at your father and tell him you'll stop.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, not moving.

"Look at him, and say you'll stop," I repeated.

Lilith looked at me and I nodded. I saw a little lump rise and fall in her throat as she looked towards the place that she had deemed "my friend's place."

Then Lilith, sweet obedient Lilith who had never disrespected her father, never sassed him, never ever gone directly against something he told her to do, looked him straight in the eye and said a word to Voldemort that I was sure had never been directed towards him before.

"No."

At that point I was extremely concerned, but the worst was when Lilith's imaginary friend turned on her and made her cry three times a day.

"She wants you to know her, Momma," she sobbed. "She says you should know her and it's all my fault that you don't."

"It's not your fault," I comforted. "Why should I know her anyways? Where did you meet her?"

"In a dream," she cried. "It was a dream."

Dreams. I was no stranger to how important and powerful they could be. It took all of my reasoning to not get ahead of myself. It could mean nothing at all. Lilith had a strong imagination. She must have seen her friend in a dream, and brought her into the real world.

That's what I told myself until the girl found her way back into Lilith's dreams. Except this time she wasn't friendly. She scared the living hell out of Lilith daily, telling her that people would die, that nobody loved her, that I was planning to leave her.

"Where are you going, Mother?" she whispered one night.

"Going? I'm not going anywhere, Lilith."

"She said you were."

"She's just a dream."

"She said you're going to leave me for a long time."

"It's not true, Lils. I promise."

These conversations had little variation from night to night. Lilith always talked of me leaving her. When she wasn't afraid of that, she was terrified that her family didn't care for her, after all, her imaginary best friend resented her, seemingly just for existing.

One night, it all changed. A situation that was once worrisome had become upsetting, and had then upgraded to frightening. That night, Lillith woke up with a piercing scream.

Voldemort and I ran into her room. She was hysterical and there was absolutely nothing we could do to help her.

"They're going to kill him! Why are they going to kill him?" she shrieked.

I tried to hush her, but to no avail. Voldemort asked, "Who? Who are they going to kill, Lilith?"

"My brother!"

Voldemort stiffened. "Gemini?" I blurted.

"Nonono! Not him! My other brother!"

"Lilith, you only have one brother," Voldemort informed her angrily. I motioned for him to calm down. The last thing we needed was for Lilith to become more stressed.

"Do you mean your sister, Lilith? Is Proserpina in danger?" I prodded.

"No! Not her! My brother! Why are they going to kill my brother?"

"Teddy!" Voldemort exclaimed, and I nodded. It could be Teddy. He and Lilith were extremely close.

"No!" Lilith cried. "He's not my brother; he's my cousin!"

"Who then, Lilith? Who are they going to kill?"

"My brother!"

"What brother?"

"Th-the one I saw in my dream."

"What is is name?" I asked fearfully.

"I don't know," came the response I had anticipated with dread.

Voldemort and I looked at each other. This was outside the realm of our understanding. Whatever was going on, it was serious.

"Well, he's not going to die today, okay? We'll make sure we save him," I assured her. She sniffled. "It's still really early, honey, why don't you go back to sleep?" She nodded, and the covers went back over her head. I could hear the occasional sniff.

Voldemort and I walked slowly and defeatedly through the dark hall.

"I think," I suggested, "we should take her to Madam Kali."

"I've been thinking the same thing," he said, glancing at me from the corner of his eye.

We entered the bedroom in a tense silence. I finally blurted, "Something's wrong. Something's really wrong." Neither of us had admitted it before that point.

Voldemort's only response was a sigh. I simply bit my lip and wondered how a girl so happy could so quickly become a girl so tortured. It feels like there is an unnatural force controlling us, tossing us from side to side like a summer storm.

I fear my family may be running out of luck.

For anyone new to this series... The Ten-Review Rule: The next chapter will not be uploaded until the previous one has received ten reviews, regardless of whether or not the next chapter is ready.

Fairly simple? Good.

I also thought I should mention that all of my stories now have their own individual cover art. You may want to go check that out if you are interested. :)

Thank you! I've missed you all!

Love, DPN

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Okay I'm done. See ya.