A/N: The long awaited sequel (not really) of The Second Stone! This one will divert slightly from the Stone because Wille is still a student and Mustang would be damn sure she finishes her education before she joins their resistance party ^_^
Chapter 01
He was bored. Oh, he knew how important the ceremony was for the first years, but, he did hope that they would stop with the speeches that could put even a troll to sleep.
Tom Riddle tried to focus on the subject at hand, though. He was, after all, the perfect student. He had outstanding in every one of his subjects, was well groomed, his wavy black hair neatly combed to one side, his Slytherin tie well-acquainted to his neatly pressed robes. His eyes were a deep emerald that stood out due to his pale skin, and, he knew he was something to look at. He did have the air of a pureblood, after all, his high cheekbones clearly spoke of true aristocracy despite his upbringing. And, true to his house, he was very ambitious and cunning. He strived to get the prefect badge in two years, and he made sure that every professor and student wouldn't hear or see a single flaw in him.
At the age of twelve, he had already scared enough of the higher years to not mess with him. With his cunning and quick ability in nurturing anything magical, he had gathered a band of followers who were all loyal to him – out of fear or respect, he didn't care. He was happy with his power, especially now when he was close to obtaining what he wanted. Besides, what was one year?
"This lot looks promising," a blonde boy spoke beside him, his grey eyes scanning the crowd.
Tom, as usual, just silently observed as each student got sorted into their houses. He was one of his followers, and, the lad knew that he had to put up a farce to be the charming, deceptively well-liked Slytherin in order to obtain whatever he wanted.
"That's my sister," one of the Blacks whispered, who sat opposite to him.
Tom nodded, observing the girl temporarily before looking at the rest for the first years. He sensed a weak power within her, and she wouldn't do for his Knights of Walpurgis, the most elite of students he handpicked himself.
The girl was instantly sorted into Slytherin. He, along with his fellow classmates, clapped regally. They weren't rowdy and disgustingly showy like the rest of the houses, and, it was one of the things he made sure his housemates would remember the moment he becomes a prefect. He will make sure that Slytherin would be prim and proper.
The girl rushed to her brother happily, who hissed, "Where are your manners, Virgo? Show some respect."
He ignored them from there, his eyes still on the first years. He was curious as to who he could add to his collection. He would only accept the best, of course. Mediocre people wouldn't survive with him. He could not tolerate them to be so.
Abraxas Malfoy, a fellow blonde Slytherin, who was in his year, suddenly leaned towards him, his grey eyes sparkling as he whispered, "That's Lyra Etoile." He pointed at a little girl who was standing in front of a group of the unsorted. "She's a pureblood. Her mother and my father were best friends in their younger years."
"Etoile, Lyra," a professor called out.
The girl, who was practically four feet and half, skittishly walked towards the center of the Great Hall, her heart shaped face pink. Her dark brown hair was an array of messy curls, making her look quite the mouse. She nervously sat on the stool, her eyes gazing at everyone.
That was when Tom met her eyes. They were weird, a shade of black that looked dark brown underneath the lighting. She wasn't even that pretty, and would probably just a waste of time, unless she would show some prowess in magic.
The moment the hat sat on her head, it instantly yelled, "Ravenclaw!"
Abraxas sighed. "Mother can't expect me to babysit her this way."
1.1.1.
The first thing Wille did the moment she woke up was opening the letter sent by Sonata and Harry. It has been a month since summer vacation started, and, she was still hung up on a lot of things, but worry was the most probable in her nonexistent equation.
Her long dark brown hair draped over her shoulder in a recklessly done ponytail, her stomach was lying down on the bed as few strands of her hair covered some of her onyx brown eyes as she scanned the parchment her best friend, who was older than her by a year, had sent. Her thick brows were furrowed in concentration and condemnation at what she was reading, her guitar, which she started learning the moment she landed at the Hughes for the past month, stowed away just beside her bed, neglected.
Wille,
I know that by telling you this through this letter would make you mad, but, right now, I can't tell you much, except that I'm having a trial in three days for using a patronus to defend myself fromdementors that were walking all over Privet Drive. I'm actually with Moody (the real one) and the others. Ron and Hermione are also with me, so, I'll be fine, and Fred and George are still getting on Mrs. Weasley's moods. They send their love, by the way.
All the best,
Harry
Her mind started racing. It was not going to be Harry's year. She could already tell by the pitying looks he received a month ago that turned to malice. Oh, she was keeping updates, stowing away the newspapers that defamed Harry and Dumbledore, putting them in a scrapbook she called The Things the Ministry had Done When Noseless Rose from the Grave and How We, the Humans, Should Ignore Them. She usually had a knack for smaller scaled demeaning and defamation of the government, but, she wanted to be the one to say 'I told you so' when Harry proves them wrong. Harry has a tendency to do that, giving him a year to do it. And, it was one thing she wouldn't let her idols, Fred and George Weasley, outshine her in.
That aside, what bothered her was the fact that Harry did it in self-defense. She recalled having this discussion with Professor McGonagall when she was introduced into the wizarding world. You are allowed to do underage magic as long as it's purely for self-defense, and the worst that could happen was expulsion.
From what she could recall, ever since Fudge manhandled Harry (from what he wrote to her. She was probably asleep during that time), they called him a liar, an attention whore (to put it bluntly), and many other defaming names whereas she believed none of them. She encountered You-Know-Who's gigantic snake in first year, for alchemy's sake, and Harry was almost killed by his bodiless form, so, anything is possible when you have magic.
Now, she was staying over a hotel somewhere in Ireland, spending time with Mustang, or, Uncle Roy, awaiting for their entourage. She didn't know what was happening yet, but, being stuck inside a hotel suite, as nice as it sounds, didn't go well with her hyperactivity.
She and Roy managed to establish and repair whatever relationship was lost when, in her mind, he abandoned her. It began with small time visits to that adorable cottage the Hughes family has. The matroness of the family, Gracia, who was the widow of an old friend, welcomed her heartily into the family, but, Roy seemed to not care whether she was being accepted or not. It was more like he wanted to make sure that she was adjusting quite well, and, adjusted she did. She even became friends with the adorably smart daughter, Elicia, who, resembled her mother with the brown hair and jade green eyes.
Right now, she did miss those two, especially the cakes Gracia made her. She would always invite the Elric siblings for a bite or two, also solidifying the relationship they had once shared.
She looked into her trunk, stowed somewhere at the foot of her bed. Though her clothes were neatly refolded by Roy, her accessories, or the ones she received during Christmas, were strewn messily on top of each other. What caught her eye was the jewelry she supposedly received from a secret admirer.
Silver wires surrounded a blood red ruby that twisted to form a snake. Despite the analogy of Slytherin encrusted by the outer shell, she was drawn to the ruby that glistened beautifully underneath the lighting of the room.
She never knew who gave it to her, but, the color truly called out. It was pretty on the eyes. Of course, she was not one for fashion, but, she could do well with it as a good luck charm.
"Lark," Roy called out somewhere. "They're here."
Grabbing the necklace quickly and putting it on, a strange sensation engulfed her. She ignored it, knowing that they didn't have much of a time, and headed to Roy, who looked at her luggage to ascertain himself that she left nothing behind, not that he truly cared.
Roy Mustang was many things, but, father figure, he is not. He was a man in his early thirties, around six feet in height, in her opinion. He has what she calls the cool bowl cut hair, because, even when it's not really a bowl cut, it resembled the hairstyle, and damn, he makes them look so good. His eyes were a pure onyx in contrast to her onyx brown ones, and he wore a casual brown trench coat over a three piece suit.
"They're here," was all it took for her to understand what he meant.
1.1.1.
It was free period, and Tom himself, being the brightest of his age, was excluded from his work. He had done the week's assignment, of course, and he had a lot of time on his hands. He had planned to head straight into the dormitory, where he could relax and continue his research on finding out his bloodline that was written in the books he had just borrowed and shrunk into a lighter medium to lessen the trouble of carrying them. It was by mere coincidence when he found Abraxas bullying a boy, who, from the previous conversation he heard, had accidentally dropped a toadstool on his homework.
"Are you going to cry to your mommy?" Abraxas snorted at the third year mudblood. "I doubt she'll listen, considering that she's a filthy Muggle herself."
The boy began to whimper. Tom couldn't help but scoff that they were all the same. They, who didn't even know about the magic world before they were introduced to it, had no right in this society. Disgusting creatures, they are. This was why he enjoyed watching Malfoy whenever he's up with his antics. Still, he didn't want to be caught in this mess, and, in order to do that, he had to pretend to be nice to the filth.
"Stop it!"voice spoke before he could utter a word.
Abraxas turned to face the voice.
"Mouse," he smiled at the girl.
Lyra Etoile.
She ignored his sentiments and glared at Tom, making him raise an eyebrow.
"Tell your scumbag of a friend to let my best friend go," she glared. "I know you control him like a puppet."
Tom's eyes narrowed in amusement. "Truly? What made you think that I do all of those things? You must be mistaken." Tom looked at Abraxas, whose expression was of pure disgust.
Lyra scoffed. "Oh, please, I'm not blind, Mr. Riddle," she sneered the way a Slytherin would have, impressing him slightly. "I see how you are always followed and wanted by everyone in this castle, but, I'm not one of them. I've spent years with people like you and Brax, and I know how cruel and malignant you are."
"You actually spend time with this mudblood?" Abraxas goaded, shoving the boy away from him. "You do know he's a disgusting piece of rubbish, right? He just comes infiltrating the magic world as if he owns it."
"BOMBARDA!"
If it weren't for Tom's quick hand movements, and a hiss of a shield charm, Abraxas would have been blasted into smithereens. What caught him in surprise was the power the spell had given off. Yes, he, Tom Riddle, was caught off guard by a third year. The power it exuded was not of a third year's, but, someone who would have been at an Auror's level.
He faced the mousy haired girl, who was soothingly saying, "It's okay, Andrew. Let's head to Madame Sage, shall we?" She turned her gaze towards Abraxas, who was now scowling at her, "Professor Dumbledore would hear about this."
He has to have her. He won't let that power go to waste.
1.1.1.
She hated flying, but, they got no choice.
Her ex-professor in second year that went by the name of Remus Lupin, was the one she clung to. He was a man with graying hair and soulful deep brown eyes. His robes were shaggy and barely holding up. He was not poor, per se, but, was a werewolf. Because of the hearsay of society, he was shunned, jobless and in hiding. Of course, with the help of the group, he seemed to have found shelter with a few people she knew well.
She turned her head to the strange girl with bubblegum pink hair. She was tall, dressed in what could be considered a greaser punk style, with a strong jaw and short hair with thick eyebrows. Her eyes were an amazing grey, something she could get lost into if she wasn't straight, to be honest. Beside her, was another one of her ex-professors, Professor Alastor Moody, who was impersonated by one of Voldemort's most loyal servant. He was a man with messy brown hair, covered in a thick leather duster with a heavily disfigured face, heavily emphasized by one of his eyes that seemed to have a life of its own. The left, abysmally weird eye that swirls on its own could actually see through almost anything, which, Wille's dirty mind, wondered whether he knows how much she loves dressing in very lacy and disgustingly too little to nothing lingerie.
She stared at the building that looked like a collection of flats. First of all, who would really like to live in flats? They're stuffy, from what she could tell, based on Sonata's experience when she went to America with her very rich family.
"Where are we?" she asked for the nth time of the night.
Moody shoved her not so gently away, muttering, "Excuse me." Tapping the crooked staff he's got, the ground beneath her began to shake. She had to clutch the weird girl by the arms before she would completely lose her balance. The shaking aside, she kept her eyes at the front, where the building was standing. Somehow, the flats began to push aside. Slowly, a building in between slowly emerged from the cracks, revealing old window panes and an ordinary looking door.
"What's up?" she asked.
Roy answered for her stiffly, "Grimmauld Twelve had just appeared." Apparently, she wasn't the only one uncomfortable with the shaking, and, she was glad about that.
Behind her, where she turned to, stood the Elric siblings. Golden haired and golden eyed Edward was the eldest, wearing his signature red cloak with the symbol of Alchemy behind his back and inner shirt of black that matched his dark pants and dark leather boots. His hair was braided just behind him to keep out from his eyes, but didn't help the bangs that hung about his front. He was slightly taller than the last time they saw each other, and it placed a frown on her face since she felt as if she barely grew.
Moody's clunking feet moved, clambering up the stairs. He turned to face the gawking Alchemists (Wille's past including her in the equation) with a growl, "What are you children waiting for, eh? Come on in!"
The three stumbled into each other, not wanting the real deal to beat them. It was a narrow corridor, too dark for anyone to see. It was no surprise when the weird girl, whom Moody hissed to with a, "Tonks!" stumbled into something. What surprised them and made Wille jump was a portrait yelling just beside her, making her ear bleed out.
"SHAME ON YOU AND ON THE HOUSE OF OUR FATHERS! YOU INBRED FILTHS AND SCUM OF THE EARTHS! YOU DESECRATE THE THIS HOUSE OF THE MOST PURE OF BLOODS! YOU ARE NOTHING BUT FILTH AND SCUM OF THE –"
"You alright, Wille?" Remus asked, holding her firmly after her initial shock as the portrait continued to spew its curses at them while Tonks apologized profusely for awakening the evil incarnate of banshees.
"HOW DARE YOU DEFILE THE HOUSE OF BLACK?! ITS ANCIENT PURENESS COVERED IN –"
She shivered, "Yeah. If cursed boxes existed, I shouldn't be surprised by screaming, cursed portraits who hates me more than the orphanage does." She stood up properly, her initial surprise now morphing into annoyance.
A swirl of black hair came crashing through the door. The person, which was a man, was pointing furiously at the portrait, yelling furiously whilst pointing his finger at the bloody thing. Instantly, her legs began to feel like jelly at seeing the man.
"Sirius Black," she sunk against Remus, who chuckled.
"SHUT UP, YOU BLOODY BITCH!"
"Still have a crush on him?" he asked.
"Wille has a crush on who?" Roy asked.
She nearly forgot about him. She turned her eyes on Roy sheepishly, who was frowning at the man clobbering the portrait with the tapestry. He struggled a bit until he closed it down on the cursed object, and then turned on his guests.
He was a tall, broad shouldered man around his late thirties. His hair was a wave of curls that fell beautifully to his shoulders. Eyes of dark cesspools looked apologetically to them, his handsome face that was once gaunt form her memories, now brimming with good health.
"Sorry about that," he said sheepishly. "My mother's portrait had been charmed with a permanent sticking charm. We couldn't bring her down."
Wille sighed dreamily. "I wouldn't mind being charmed permanently by you."
If anyone (Moody) watched Edward and Roy, they would have noticed how their expressions comically twisted. Edward had an awkward expression drawn on his face, trying to hold back his laughter while Roy seemed to want to kill or hurt something.
The man turned to face Wille, his expression turning from anger, to shock and to utter happiness in an instant. "Wille Laire!" He opened his arms bracingly.
Wille didn't hesitate to jump into his arms and hug him. She yelled ecstatically, "Sirius! I miss you, you sexy beast, you!" as she was being twirled. Perks of being short for her, she guessed.
Roy cleared his voice, "Okay, that's enough," while pulling her away from Sirius's grasp.
He put her down gently, patting her on the head.
"You grew," he commented heartily. He observed her appreciatively, like a brother would to a sister.
She grinned. "You look even more handsome." She put on a charm, pretending to be a highborn lady as she curtsied and blinked shyly at his countenance, earning a low rumble of a chuckle from him.
Leading her and the rest into what seemed to be the dining room, he chatted happily, "You are still as charmingly flirtatious as you were in your second year."
Roy snorted. "Charming? Where did you ever get the idea?"
Wille stuck out her tongue at him. "I can charm the pants out of Sirius, and, trust me, his standards in women are pretty high, unlike some loser womanizer I know by the family name of Mustang."
"Lark?"
Her attention spun to the voice of the boy she was worried for for the past month.
"Harry!"