Death Eater Harry Potter Novels & Stories

I am the hated true daughter of my family. One day, I was kidnapped along with my sister. The kidnappers cut off a section of my finger and sent it to my parents. But they just thanked God that the kidnappers had not cut off my sister’s finger. They deciphered the hint from my sister and alerted the police, but the kidnappers learned about it. To protect my sister, they told the kidnappers that I was the one who revealed the address to them. Because of it, I was tortured to death while my sister was saved. Oddly, when my parents found my mangled body, they broke down and said that they were going to make my sister and the kidnappers pay.

My fiancé’s first love and I fell down the stairs at the same time, and he chose to save her instead, leaving me to lie there in a pool of blood as I waited for an ambulance. On the brink of death, I begged him not to abandon me, and he only kicked my hand away, saying, “Elodie, can’t you show a little kindness? Don’t you see that Celeste is unconscious?! “…I’ll make sure you pay for this later!” ‘Later’, as he put it, didn’t come to pass. As he left with his first love in his arms, I died along with the baby inside my womb.

Six years after donating my heart to my wife, she destroyed the last of my family. Over those six years, she ended my mother’s treatment, letting her die slowly in agony. She deliberately caused a car accident that shattered my father’s spine, forcing him to watch my mother die while trapped in a paralyzed body. Even our daughter was not spared—locked away in a pitch-black basement, she starved to death alone. She did all of this for one reason: to force me—the heartless, faithless man she believed I was—to reveal myself. But during those six years, the love I once had for her turned into boundless hatred. I refused to let my soul dissipate. I stayed—waiting for the day she would learn the truth, and collapse under the weight of her regret.

"Mrs. Blackwood, everything has been arranged for the identity-erasure operation you commissioned. This is the final agreement. Please sign here." I lowered my eyes to the document that had been placed in front of me. Client: Elena Blackwood Execution Plan: Explosion at a harbor warehouse. Vehicle destroyed by fire. Death confirmed through DNA identification. Execution Date: One week from today. One week later would be the fifth anniversary of my marriage to Damian Blackwood. It would also be the day I disappeared from the Blackwood family forever. Our story began on that date. And it would end on that date as well.

My mom, who works as a lawyer, decides to take me to court just because I refuse to donate my platelets to my younger sister, Lindsey Finch. I explained to her that I have a blood clotting disorder, and having an extremely low platelet count would put my life at risk. But she screamed at me through tears: “Can’t you just stop pretending? Do you really have to let your sister die? How could I have raised such an ungrateful wretch?” I lost the case, and my platelets were forcibly taken. I suffered a massive hemorrhage and died a miserable death alone in a deserted corner.

During the SAT exam, My sister and I both had an emergency at the same time. Overwhelmed by stress, I suffered a heart attack and was on the brink of death. Yet my mom, who was working as an invigilator that day, rushed to tend to my sister—who only had a stomach ache—without a second thought. I begged her to save me. But she kicked me away fiercely. “Can’t you pick the right time to put on a show for attention? If you ruin your sister’s grades, I’ll beat you to death, you beast!” Later, I failed to respond to resuscitation and died in the hospital. Mom collapsed overnight.

On the day my body gets blasted into pieces, Amanda Stone, my wife and a police captain, is busy riding the merry-go-round with her childhood sweetheart, Mark Horton, and his son, Keith Horton. Three days later, she finally remembers our son, Evan Johnson, and me. "It's been three days! Is he still mad that I used him and Evan to exchange for Mark and Keith? He's even trying to get the entire police squad to play along with this fake disappearing act of his, huh?" "Captain Stone, Caleb has died in the line of duty. Evan was also injur—" "That's impossible! What I did was only a temporary measure. I set up three layers of defense. There was no way anything would've happened to Evan or him!" Lara Chase, Amanda's colleague, turns away. She can no longer bear to look at Amanda. "Mark did it. He lied about the situation and used your authorization to move everyone away. We've already identified the kidnappers. They're the remnants of MW Syndicate. This was all part of their attempt to get revenge against you. "We also found out that, when you were trapped at the border three years ago, it was Caleb who led the rescue attempt and risked his life to bring you to safety, not Mark's deceased wife…"

On the night of the full moon, I take my mate, Kyle Fenwolf, back to my pack for the full moon ceremony. Before the start of the ceremony, I head over to the sacred spring to wash my hands. Upon returning to the venue, I find out that Kyle has gone missing. I quickly looked for the guards, only to be told that I came to the pack on my own. When I asked my packmates, who were here to attend the ceremony, they told me that they never saw anyone by my side. But the thing is, I came back with Kyle! He had just given me the bone flute that he had personally carved! He even told me that he'd teach me how to play it once the ceremony was over! How could he be gone all of a sudden? As I stared at the flute, which was still warm from Kyle's body heat, in my hands, I strongly requested the guards to search around the forest and the pack territory. Thanks to my strong demands, the ceremony was forcibly interrupted. The pack's enforcers searched the entire territory for Kyle, and yet they never found him. They couldn't even pick up on a trace of his scent. They asked my father, who was the pack's Alpha, for answers. But Dad claimed that I was mentally ill, and that I dreamed up a mate on my own. In the end, I was thrown into the dungeon. There, I got ripped into shreds by the other insane wolves. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day when I'm meant to bring Kyle home.

Three year after my death, my former mate returned— not to mourn me, but to make use of me one last time. It was the Winter Solstice, the longest night of the year—the night when wolves whispered to the dead. “Where’s Mira Thorne?” Rowan demanded as he strode downstairs into the tavern beneath the den. “Her lived here—Gavin’s sister. I need to find her.” Dorian, the tavern keeper, glanced up slowly. “Mira?” he repeated, wiping his hands on a cloth. “She’s gone, Doctor. Died three winters ago. Same night the Moon rose red.” Rowan’s brows knit. “Dead? That’s impossible. There’s no record.” Dorian’s voice softened. “The family from that healing case—remember them? They found her in the alley behind this inn. Tore her apart before dawn. The healers couldn’t even retrieve her wolf.” Rowan froze, a flicker of disbelief passing across his face before irritation took over. “No. She’s pretending. She’s doing this to make me feel guilty.” he said sharply. “She’s hiding. She always was weak. Tell her if her doesn’t come out within three days, I’ll stop sending money for brother’s treatment.” He turned abruptly and left, the tavern door slamming behind him. Dorian sighed after him., shaking his head. “brother? Her brother died before the healers even arrived… there was never any money for treatment.” The silence that followed was heavier than snow. Dorian watched the falling snow and murmured to the empty air, “No one pretends death, Doctor. Not when they’ve already lost everything.”

On the fourth day after my son's death, I decided to secretly dissolve my military marriage with my husband. Before that, I had three days to settle everything for my son. On the first day, I tricked my husband into signing the cremation papers. On the second day, I went to the school and collected the textbooks my son would never get to use. On the third day, I cooked a table full of dishes and begged my husband to celebrate our son's last birthday. He agreed, but soon after claimed he had a mission. Instead, he spent the entire night setting off fireworks with his childhood sweetheart. That night, I cooked. Then, I sat alone before my son's photo and ate all my son's favorite foods. The next day, my husband returned, guilt flickering in his eyes as he handed me a brand-new backpack. He said it was a gift for our child's first day of school. But he didn't know—our child would never have a first day of school.