THE BRACELET OF APHRODITE
by tranquilitas
A/N: The idea for this story came from the brilliant mind of a friend of mine, trina-k, who also beta-read this. I just wrote the story and filled in the gaps. Hope you enjoy! Reviews (contructive criticisms, suggestions, the ocassional flame) are much appreciated.
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and co. don't belong to me!
.~*~.
Chapter 1: Paradise Lost
In a charming house on the outskirts of the village of Hogsmeade, nearing the edge of the Forbidden Forest, laughter and merriment filled the cool spring late afternoon air. A festive garden party was taking place. Relatives had gathered, from around the country, to celebrate a glorious event.
A man stood, among the throng of the crowd, sipping a glass of chilled champagne and happily engaging in conversation with the other men of the family. His chestnut hair shook with his boisterous laughter, his brown eyes twinkled in delight. He almost failed to notice the enthusiastic young lady approach him.
"Uncle Gilbert, when will we be able to greet the guest of honor? Grandmama has been asking for her for a good while now," she asked.
"Has she, Constance? Anne should be out with her in a while. Perhaps I should go and check on them," he replied, bowing his head slightly to excuse himself.
He walked towards the front door of the Blythe home, stopping occasionally to greet the guests.
Up stairs, in the nursery, an auburn-haired woman, settled on the floor with her back to the door, her legs tucked under her, was busy primping her daughter.
"And are there lots of people downstairs, mummy?" the little girl asked, her cinnamon eyes twinkled with sheer excitement and curiosity, squirming a little while her mother brushed her long red curls and put them up in low pigtails held up by blue ribbons to go with her sky blue dress. "Have they really all come to see me?"
"Yes, little angel. Now hold still! You'll never be able to go outside and greet all your relatives unless you settle down and let me finish," she lightly scolded her only child.
"Listen to your mother, heart,"
The two whirled around to see the one man who ruled their hearts, grinning at the sight before him.
"Papa!" she cried, escaping her mother's brush, and raced into her father's waiting arms. He tossed her into the air and caught her, the little girl giggling away. When he released his precious little one from the embrace, they were immediately silenced. Arms crossed, left foot tapping, the mother only looked slightly peeved. Father and daughter stole a glance at each other and grinned sheepishly.
"Oops," the little girl muttered to herself loudly. The father gave his wife an apologetic look, coupled with big puppy dog eyes. She dropped her façade and laughed at her husband's and her child's antics, shaking her head in disbelief.
After several moments of final primping, the family of three walked down the steps and out the door to greet their guests.
"Happy Birthday, Gillian!" they all cried out. Gillian clapped her hands in delight as her father held on to her, her auburn curls bouncing in their pigtails. Her mother brought out the cake, five pink candles aglow, placed it on the table and went to stand next to her husband. Still propped up by her father, Gillian bent over slightly, took a breath, and blew the candles out. Everyone clapped and cheered while Gillian hugged her parents.
The happy atmosphere was shattered by the sudden crunch of twigs in the general direction of the Forbidden Forest. People in cloaks and masks emerged from the Forest; unfamiliar voices chanting incantations under their breath. They were armed only with their wands, and they surrounded the vicinity of the home. A blinding green light erupted from the tip of one of the cloaked men's wands, hitting a young teenage girl. Pandemonium struck when they discovered she was no longer breathing.
Anne's breathing hitched when she saw her niece fall to the ground, never to rise again. She turned to her husband. Looking into his eyes, she understood. There wasn't much time.
Not all of their clan were of magical blood. A mixture of muggle and wizard/witch, the Blythe clan were the epitome of peaceful relations between muggle and magic.
Those who had wands formed a small line of retaliation and held back the offenders as much as they could, those who didn't, well, muggle guns came in very handy in this situation.
Gilbert and Anne, with Gillian in Gilbert's arms, rushed into the house. Anne ran up to the master bedroom and fished a bracelet from a secret compartment in the bookcase. As soon as she got down the steps, voices were heard outside, getting louder.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are! Come on then, Blythe, hand the charm over and no one else gets hurt…too much," they jeered.
Gilbert, drawing his wand from his sleeve, approached Anne, who in turn, put the bracelet on their daughter. She took Gillian, who was terrified but did not utter a sound, from his arms. Gilbert kissed his beloved wife and his treasured daughter, hugged them and looked at them longingly. He quickly led them toward the hidden passage in the cellar until they reached the clearing.
"Run into the forest. Get to Hogwarts. Dumbledore will know what to do. I'll hold them off," he ordered, his cinnamon eyes never leaving his wife's aquamarine orbs. He wrapped his arms around his wife once more and kissed his weeping daughter on the forehead. "I love you. Now go!"
She could feel the tears prickling her eyes, but she could not afford to break down. She, finally, withdrew her own wand from the side pocket of her dress. She ran through the forest, down an unmarked path from memories of long before Gillian's birth. Her mind was constantly chanting, "Get Lian to Hogwarts. Get Lian to Dumbledore,"
Halfway there, she heard, faintly, a second pair of footsteps catching up to her. Sensing the new danger, mother and daughter tightened their grip on one another.
"Debilito!" The pursuer's voice echoed throughout the thicket of the forest. He had indeed caught up with her, as he did not have to run with extra weight equal to a two-year old child.
Anne suddenly felt herself getting weaker with every step. The Weakening Curse, of course, she realized and cursed inwardly. Keeping mind to keep her legs in motion, she shifted her daughter's weight to one arm and pointed her wand behind her.
"Stupefy!" She cried, a loud thud confirming she had hit her target.
Confident that they were now safe, Anne stopped running to catch her breath.
.~*~.
by tranquilitas
A/N: The idea for this story came from the brilliant mind of a friend of mine, trina-k, who also beta-read this. I just wrote the story and filled in the gaps. Hope you enjoy! Reviews (contructive criticisms, suggestions, the ocassional flame) are much appreciated.
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter and co. don't belong to me!
.~*~.
Chapter 1: Paradise Lost
In a charming house on the outskirts of the village of Hogsmeade, nearing the edge of the Forbidden Forest, laughter and merriment filled the cool spring late afternoon air. A festive garden party was taking place. Relatives had gathered, from around the country, to celebrate a glorious event.
A man stood, among the throng of the crowd, sipping a glass of chilled champagne and happily engaging in conversation with the other men of the family. His chestnut hair shook with his boisterous laughter, his brown eyes twinkled in delight. He almost failed to notice the enthusiastic young lady approach him.
"Uncle Gilbert, when will we be able to greet the guest of honor? Grandmama has been asking for her for a good while now," she asked.
"Has she, Constance? Anne should be out with her in a while. Perhaps I should go and check on them," he replied, bowing his head slightly to excuse himself.
He walked towards the front door of the Blythe home, stopping occasionally to greet the guests.
Up stairs, in the nursery, an auburn-haired woman, settled on the floor with her back to the door, her legs tucked under her, was busy primping her daughter.
"And are there lots of people downstairs, mummy?" the little girl asked, her cinnamon eyes twinkled with sheer excitement and curiosity, squirming a little while her mother brushed her long red curls and put them up in low pigtails held up by blue ribbons to go with her sky blue dress. "Have they really all come to see me?"
"Yes, little angel. Now hold still! You'll never be able to go outside and greet all your relatives unless you settle down and let me finish," she lightly scolded her only child.
"Listen to your mother, heart,"
The two whirled around to see the one man who ruled their hearts, grinning at the sight before him.
"Papa!" she cried, escaping her mother's brush, and raced into her father's waiting arms. He tossed her into the air and caught her, the little girl giggling away. When he released his precious little one from the embrace, they were immediately silenced. Arms crossed, left foot tapping, the mother only looked slightly peeved. Father and daughter stole a glance at each other and grinned sheepishly.
"Oops," the little girl muttered to herself loudly. The father gave his wife an apologetic look, coupled with big puppy dog eyes. She dropped her façade and laughed at her husband's and her child's antics, shaking her head in disbelief.
After several moments of final primping, the family of three walked down the steps and out the door to greet their guests.
"Happy Birthday, Gillian!" they all cried out. Gillian clapped her hands in delight as her father held on to her, her auburn curls bouncing in their pigtails. Her mother brought out the cake, five pink candles aglow, placed it on the table and went to stand next to her husband. Still propped up by her father, Gillian bent over slightly, took a breath, and blew the candles out. Everyone clapped and cheered while Gillian hugged her parents.
The happy atmosphere was shattered by the sudden crunch of twigs in the general direction of the Forbidden Forest. People in cloaks and masks emerged from the Forest; unfamiliar voices chanting incantations under their breath. They were armed only with their wands, and they surrounded the vicinity of the home. A blinding green light erupted from the tip of one of the cloaked men's wands, hitting a young teenage girl. Pandemonium struck when they discovered she was no longer breathing.
Anne's breathing hitched when she saw her niece fall to the ground, never to rise again. She turned to her husband. Looking into his eyes, she understood. There wasn't much time.
Not all of their clan were of magical blood. A mixture of muggle and wizard/witch, the Blythe clan were the epitome of peaceful relations between muggle and magic.
Those who had wands formed a small line of retaliation and held back the offenders as much as they could, those who didn't, well, muggle guns came in very handy in this situation.
Gilbert and Anne, with Gillian in Gilbert's arms, rushed into the house. Anne ran up to the master bedroom and fished a bracelet from a secret compartment in the bookcase. As soon as she got down the steps, voices were heard outside, getting louder.
"Come out, come out, wherever you are! Come on then, Blythe, hand the charm over and no one else gets hurt…too much," they jeered.
Gilbert, drawing his wand from his sleeve, approached Anne, who in turn, put the bracelet on their daughter. She took Gillian, who was terrified but did not utter a sound, from his arms. Gilbert kissed his beloved wife and his treasured daughter, hugged them and looked at them longingly. He quickly led them toward the hidden passage in the cellar until they reached the clearing.
"Run into the forest. Get to Hogwarts. Dumbledore will know what to do. I'll hold them off," he ordered, his cinnamon eyes never leaving his wife's aquamarine orbs. He wrapped his arms around his wife once more and kissed his weeping daughter on the forehead. "I love you. Now go!"
She could feel the tears prickling her eyes, but she could not afford to break down. She, finally, withdrew her own wand from the side pocket of her dress. She ran through the forest, down an unmarked path from memories of long before Gillian's birth. Her mind was constantly chanting, "Get Lian to Hogwarts. Get Lian to Dumbledore,"
Halfway there, she heard, faintly, a second pair of footsteps catching up to her. Sensing the new danger, mother and daughter tightened their grip on one another.
"Debilito!" The pursuer's voice echoed throughout the thicket of the forest. He had indeed caught up with her, as he did not have to run with extra weight equal to a two-year old child.
Anne suddenly felt herself getting weaker with every step. The Weakening Curse, of course, she realized and cursed inwardly. Keeping mind to keep her legs in motion, she shifted her daughter's weight to one arm and pointed her wand behind her.
"Stupefy!" She cried, a loud thud confirming she had hit her target.
Confident that they were now safe, Anne stopped running to catch her breath.
.~*~.