ℐshwari Sting
It's time.
'No amount of stammering candle light, or fireplace ablaze could cut warmth through the coldness of her dining room. Zimelda Zemeckis stood there, clinging onto her stick, staring into nothingness. Uncertainty was poison; a poison that carefully bled through every corner of her angular frame. The political election within the Ministry of Magic started to fade into reality, as did her reluctant realisation that she may not survive it. She had lasted a very long time, in spite of everything, but much like the flames flickering intently behind her, she could hear and feel time ticking away. Her next step was crucial as it would determine her fate, as the next Minister for Magic was ushered in once more.'
It's time.
'No amount of stammering candle light, or fireplace ablaze could cut warmth through the coldness of her dining room. Zimelda Zemeckis stood there, clinging onto her stick, staring into nothingness. Uncertainty was poison; a poison that carefully bled through every corner of her angular frame. The political election within the Ministry of Magic started to fade into reality, as did her reluctant realisation that she may not survive it. She had lasted a very long time, in spite of everything, but much like the flames flickering intently behind her, she could hear and feel time ticking away. Her next step was crucial as it would determine her fate, as the next Minister for Magic was ushered in once more.'