"It's just a small get together, Clarke Elizabeth, I don't know why you're getting so aggressive." Abigail Griffin's words sounded like a low hiss and for a second, Clarke wondered if her mother was speaking English. Either way, her words were filled with annoyance and irritation. Clarke wasn't under the impression that her question warranted such reaction, but her mother often equated questions concerning her actions as acts of aggression and defiance.
The two women, alike in looks but so different in personality, stood in the heavily decorated "ballroom" of Chase Manor. It was the home her mother grew up in, but Clarke was less familiar with the place due to the fact that the family only moved nearly three years ago and Clarke spent ten months out of the year at school. She felt out of place surrounded by the gray-scale of the manor.
Her mother was in the middle of one of her famous projects. Clarke often called those "projects" distractions, though. Abigail Griffin was never much for party planning when her husband was alive.
Her most recent distraction was planning a "coming-of-age" celebration for Clarke. It wasn't something Clarke wanted or asked for, but she found that arguing with her mother was far more exhausting than attending the event itself. Abigail was spending a small fortune on the dinner, though. That was obvious by the talking serpent statues she bought custom order from an odd shop in Knockturn Alley. Clarke supposes her opinion of the statues was a bit biased but they had almost made her fall down the steps that morning when they told her she was not permitted to leave the house.
Her mother also tore a page out of Hogwarts book and spelled nearly a thousand candles to float around the room, complementing the midnight blue of the ballroom ceiling. She couldn't imagine how much time and money the witch had spent on those particular decorations.
Still, Clarke could tell that the most expensive purchase was a solid marble table that spread out the length of the ballroom. It was black with gray wispy swirls with a large snake and skull emblem in the middle. She wasn't exactly sure what it meant, but it was probably some ancient Slytherin symbol for all she knew. It's not like she ever read Hogwarts: A History Edition Two like her boyfriend, Bellamy Blake, is always telling her to do.
Clarke placed her hand on the cool table but then her mother looked at her sternly so she removed it quickly. After a moment of fiercely polishing away Clarke's fingerprints, her mother cleared her throat and said, "Now, I'm not going to tell you again, get dressed. It would be an embarrassment if our friends were to arrive early and the guest of honor was still wearing her dirty Quidditch uniform."
She looked down at her uniform and frowned. It was quite dirty. Clarke was wearing the green and white sweater despite the heat of summer, and she was surprised her mother didn't say anything about it. It wasn't an Abigail's nature to question what Clarke was doing when she was in the middle of something she deemed "more important" and Clarke would be lying if she said she didn't like that. It made it easy to spend time with her friends.
And anyway, it wasn't like she was doing something illegal this time she went out. She'd received an owl at precisely midnight that morning that told her to meet the usual gang on the coast of Ireland for a bit of Quidditch practice. Last year, there wasn't any Quidditch and the year before her House lost. So, she feels the need to make up for it. Unfortunately, most of her friends played for different houses so "practice" was typically less grueling.
"Who exactly has been invited to this small get together, mother?" Abby must have sensed her distaste for the whole damn event because she gave Clarke a look that could kill. Abigail liked to tell Clarke that she was ungrateful for all the advantages she'd given her in life. She'd yet to realize that material items can't make up for a lack of emotional support and encouragement.
"Very important people. I've laid out a few of your best dresses upstairs. If you need any help, ask Morrow. I haven't done my hair yet." Her mother was already wearing a long, black gown with slits up the sides. Clarke didn't think it was her mother's style at all. Abigail typically liked to be the star of the show and display her gowns as if they were trophies for being rich. Clarke hoped her mother had laid out something just as simple so she didn't have to ask for Morrow's assistance.
Morrow was her mother's favorite house elf. The elf was loyal, and strict when it came to making sure her Mistress's rules were being followed. Clarke's father refused to allow Abigail to have house elves but after his passing, her mother said it was a necessity. Personally, Clarke didn't care much for Morrow. It wasn't because she was a house elf, more so that she looked at Clarke as if she were vermin. Especially in the last two years as if Morrow knew what Clarke was doing in her free time.
After a moment of debating whether she was going to start an argument about how ridiculous this whole event was, Clarke made the decision to go upstairs and do as she was told. While she walked, she had to batt away the candles that were so insistent on making sure she didn't get to the grand staircase that led to the second floor.
Bloody annoying, Clarke thought as she finally reached the top step and turned left. Her room was at the very end of the hall, past nearly a dozen rooms that were never used. In a way, it gave her a bit of distance away from her mother although she supposes it doesn't count because Abigail likes to rifle through her things whenever she gets the chance.
In all reality, Abby used it as a chance to complain about her daughter's room. Her mother desired it to look modern, whereas Clarke was still a teenager and wanted to express her individualism and display the things that made her happy. Her shelves held numerous trophies for her accomplishments at Hogwarts and she'd hung every formal picture of the Slytherin Quidditch team on her wall. There were only a few pictures of friends that she'd chosen with much thought. The other pictures, and there were quite a bit, were in a private vault at Gringotts along with the money her father had left her and the winnings of the Triwizard Tournament the year before.
She had a few secrets she wanted to keep from her mother and the only way to do so was to lock them below the Earth and hide the key.
Clarke started wondering what the coming year portrait would look like for Slytherin. They had to replace three people and she was also looking for her potential replacement for the next term. Seekers were the most difficult to replace. Since she was made team captain, she planned to hold trials the first weekend of the term so people could get settled. She also had no intentions of leaving out the first years like the captain her fourth year did. And, if someone who tried out happened to be better than the others on her team, she would be replacing people.
Deep in thought about potential practices and the things she'd learned over the summer by playing with her friends, she made her way to the washroom. Every time she looked at her tub, she thought longingly about the Prefect bath and some adventures she'd had in the confines.
A small note was placed on the edge of the sink. She immediately recognized the handwriting and her whole face lit up.
If you can, meet me at Jasper's house tonight. Yani has agreed to let me know if you can come or not.
B.
Her face was warm after the third time she read the letter. She imagines this is what young love is supposed to feel like. Giddiness on the verge of stupidity. Clarke reached for her wand and whispered "Incindeo", watching the parchment burn. It would be the death of her if Abby ever found the secret letters her boyfriend delivers her.
She would have to thank Yani, maybe with a new hat or a sweater. Yani was the only free elf Clarke had ever met, and also the only elf that she knew that got paid for her work. Of course, Clarke was the one who paid Yani without her mother's knowledge but it was all the same. During the school term, Yani worked in the kitchens at Hogwarts where she also got paid by their generous Headmaster. It was something Clarke demanded because she couldn't stand the thought of Yani having to stay under the control of her mother during the school year.
Her mother had a distaste for Yani because Yani's mother was "quite cruel" to Abby when she was younger. During Clarke's first Christmas at Chase Manor, Clarke made the mistake of letting Yani free. She wasn't really aware of the rules that came with house elves, especially since her father had been vocal about never having any in his home. Her mother was furious and chewed her out until she was back on the Hogwarts Express.
Looking the mirror after turning on the water, Clarke took a second to realize how disgusting she looked. Her hair was trying to curl because of the humidity of the coast and she was covered in dirt due to repeatedly being pushed off her broom by her own teammate, Nathan Miller. It was all in good fun and she was never hurt, but it was still mildly annoying.
She winced as she pulled off her uniform, feeling the sting of overexertion and a bit of of sunburn on her cheeks. Clarke knew that if she wanted to be her mother's ideal of formal beauty, she was going to have to spend a little time working with magic in the mirror. For starters, she would have to rub a mixture on her face that would make her sunburn ease up within ten minutes. Then, she would have to do something about her unruly hair and the bags under her eyes. If she was lucky, she would be able to do everything fairly quickly and then bewitch her makeup to put itself on.
Naturally, that was a difficult process but after three years she considers herself a master. Although, most of her makeup is extremely natural so very rarely has she had to readjust her spells.
She looked down at the red and gold necklace she wore beneath her clothes at all times. It was a gift from Bellamy. He gave it to her before they went on Christmas holiday the year before with red cheeks and a soft "shut up" under his breath because he thought she was laughing at him for being sentimental. Instead, she was laughing because her friends, Jasper and Monty, just made her try their new potion that was supposed to rival a joke shop built before the Second Wizard War.
He said it was supposed to give her luck during the Triwizard Tournament and the fact that she was alive was all the proof she needed of it working. Although, she knew it was just a necklace from a muggle shop that contained no magic whatsoever.
Clarke cursed under her breath for allowing herself to think of the tournament. It always caused goose pimples to rise on her arms and the hair of her neck to stand up. While reading a book on muggle medicine over the summer, she read that some people suffer from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder after horrible events. She doesn't know a lot about muggle medicine, but she's pretty sure they got that one right. Some nights, when she hasn't seen her friends for a few days or Abby's at work, she feels like there's someone screaming at the top of their lungs inside of her head.
To be honest, she hasn't gotten a full night's sleep since Headmaster Marcus Kane pulled her name out of the old goblet. Her mother was angry that she put her name in at first, saying that she was too young to be competing in such an idiotic competition. She also cursed the people in charge for allowing the age limit to be fourteen and up. But, when her mother realized how prestigious the win would be, she dropped all her arguments to get Clarke out of the tournament.
A few times, she's thought about reaching out to the other champions to see how they're doing. She just couldn't find the words or the motivation to recount what happened to them. They all walked away changed people. The Tournament forces you to look into your soul and realize what type of witch or wizard you want to be. If you're going to be good, or evil. In the end, she supposes no one is ever truly one or the other.
After her victory, it was revealed that the tournament had been rigged for a student from Durmstrang to be killed. It was his final year at the school and he had betrayed the headmaster, so he decided that Lincoln (the champion) should die. But, Lincoln was strong and ended up in second place. During the trials, Lincoln and her bonded over their general hatred for the entire event where she confessed the only reason she put her name in the Goblet was so her boyfriend's little sister's name would get lost in the mix.
She was only fourteen and there was no way Clarke was going to let her compete under the nose of her brother.
In the end, she's glad that Octavia isn't the one plagued with nightmares.
She can remember each challenge in perfect detail: the Dementors in challenge one, the person she loves convulsing in front of her after being coerced into taking a potion with the imperious curse in challenge two, and the moment she realized that she's not the good guy in challenge three.
It's Challenge Three that forces her out of sleep at all hours of the night, screaming at the top of her lungs and sobbing until she can see the break of light on the horizon. She doesn't know what she'll do when she has to go back to Hogwarts and share quarters with people again. She might have to brew a potion to sedate herself.
Clarke slipped into the steaming hot water of her bath and tried to summon happy thoughts so her mother wouldn't go ballistic.
Afterwards, she walked out of her bathroom with a fluffy robe on and got to work on her face. It didn't take nearly as long as she expected it to and pretty soon she was standing in front of her bed trying to decide what dress she was going to wear. Before her bath, she hadn't bothered to look at the minimal selection her mother laid out. She clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes. Each dress was precisely the same but in different colors. Her options were green, black, or silver.
Fitting, Clarke thought to herself before she opted to wear the silver one.
They weren't simple like her mother's gown, rather they were heavily adorned with sparkling crystal. It was a rather tight fit on her curvy body but after a few minutes of squeezing herself into the gown, she managed to zip it with her wand. It showed her cleavage far more than she was comfortable with and she almost thought of wearing the dress she wore at the Yule Ball instead but she didn't want to hear her mother's disapproving speech.
While getting dressed, her eyes traveled to a rather large tattoo of a dark brown dog on her forearm. It was a spur of the moment decision after drinking far too much firewhiskey after the Tournament. Even weeks later, she hasn't found it in her to regret it. But, her mother was unaware of it's existence so she concealed it with a small spell and then checked her reflection in the full body mirror by her bed.
Where only moments ago, she had been looking at a seventeen year old school girl's reflection, she now saw a young woman. A beautiful one at that. She wasn't dim witted enough to think she was ugly, but she usually only wore hoodies and Quidditch related attire along with her mandatory robes.
In a fit of inspiration, she decided to wear a rather flashy necklace her mother gave her when she won the Tournament. Clarke had never dared to take it out of the box due to the fact that it was a family heirloom and she never felt the need to wear huge jewelry. Her mother had bragged that it'd been made by a very famous Goblin hundreds of years ago and had been in the Chase family since. It was made of the finest silver, and contained three large rows of tightly connected diamonds that connected to a large circular emerald in the center. The emerald was haloed by another row of diamonds.
Clarke thought about getting it appraised, just to see how much it was worth but Goblin's were typically rude when it came to passed down items that were made by other Goblins. They viewed it as stealing, believing that after the first person who bought it died or decided they did not want the item anymore, it should have been returned to the Goblins.
Her mother told her that it was a gift from Salazar Slytherin to his true love, also known as her very great grandmother.
Her relation to Salazar Slytherin was the ultimate reason her mother decorated the place with his colors, with his symbols. She was proud of her heritage, all of it. Clarke on the other hand could recognize that he was an important part of history but his viewpoints on muggle-borns and half-bloods were absolutely ridiculous and shameful. Every time her mother went on a tangent, Clarke had the urge to remind her that they were only related to him because he had an affair with their ancestor and produced an illegitimate child.
"Clarke Elizabeth, are you ready? The Minister should be here any moment!" Abby broke through her thoughts. Clarke sighed, fastening the necklace and then making her way downstairs. She was expecting some type of compliment, but her mother just looked at her hair and said "I guess that will suffice" and went back to making sure everything was to her standard.
Her mother was truly in her element once people started pouring through the doors. The serpent statues greeted each guest, requesting a passphrase before they could enter. Clarke snorted into a cup of mead when she first noticed it, thinking her mother was absolutely foolish for setting up security measures. Who on Earth would try to crash this event?
Clarke watched as the people arrived, noting that the crowd used many different methods of magical travel. People used brooms, apparition, and Clarke even noted a flying motorcycle. Her mother really needed to redefine what small meant because the ballroom was filled with nearly fifty people. Clarke only recognized a handful of the guests having spotted a few Professors from her school such as the new Divination teacher, Potions Master, and Charms instructor. Their presence made her a little nervous. She hadn't ever felt the need to keep her friendships private in the walls of Hogwarts but what if one of them mentioned it to her mother? Mentioned her boyfriend? If they were friends of her mother, and she didn't know now then she probably didn't have much to worry about. She moved on to identifying the politicians that often graced the cover of the Daily Prophet. For a brief second, she thought she saw a group of people from the Undesirable list but she chalked it up to exhaustion.
Her mother ushered her around the room, forcing her to introduce herself to every person even though they were all supposed to be there for her. It felt artificial and wrong after the fifteenth person approached her, shaking her hand and congratulating her on achievements she didn't feel right boasting about. The Tournament was nothing to be proud of, she learned that the hard way.
"It's very nice to meet you Miss Griffin, we've heard so much of your success."
"I am honored to meet the daughter of such a great Healer. Is that the path you're going to go after Hogwarts?"
"You must be so proud of your mother."
Abigail used her wand to ring a tiny bell, signaling the start of dinner. She didn't share any words concerning why everyone was at the manor. Nothing about Clarke's birthday, nothing sappy about being a parent. Her mother seemed more concerned that people were trying to switch their name cards than anything else. "Now, now Professor Sydney, I know for a fact that you aren't anywhere near the Minister." She heard Abby saying to the Potions Professor. Clarke did her best not to laugh so she wouldn't end up flunking her N.E.W.T. class.
The Minister of Magic took the seat at the head of the table, smiling fondly at Clarke as if he knew her quite well. Technically, he was her Godfather having been her father's most trusted friend for most of Jake's life. Of course, Clarke rarely saw the minister anymore unless it was in the pages of the prophet.
"What a lovely necklace." A woman that Clarke had never met before directed her fork at the heirloom. Clarke opened her mouth to speak, but struggled finding words that didn't sound like she wanted to be wearing her other necklace.
Abigail cleared her throat, "It's been passed down to all the great women in my family ever since it was given to our ancestor from Salazar Slytherin, himself." She hoped people didn't think Abigail sounded as pompous as Clarke viewed her. "My mother passed it on to me after Clarke was born and after Clarke won the Triwizard Tournament, I thought it was only fitting. It's such a special event."
Inwardly, Clarke rolled her eyes. The Minister of Magic cleared his throat to get her attention. "Miss Griffin, I just wanted to congratulate you again for you win." He said as he dabbed his mouth with the corner of his napkin. "You have turned out to be a bright young witch much like I always expected you to be. If your father were here, he'd be exceptionally proud."
"Thank you, Minister." Clarke tried to be polite but the last thing she wanted to think about was The Triwizard Tournament. It's barbaric, really, the enjoyment of watching people suffer. Maybe it once something noble, but it's dreadful now. A stunt for publicity and distraction.
"I apologize for my son's absence tonight." The Minister said with a hint of aggravation. "He's been preparing for a position in the Ministry and I'm afraid he's adopted quite a bit of my flaws." Clarke watched as the man lied straight to her face, most likely unaware that Clarke and his son had maintained a healthy friendship. Even today, Wells had been at the Quidditch Pitch with her late into the afternoon, complaining about his father and how he'd moved in with their close friend, Jasper Jordan for the remainder of break.
According to Wells, they'd gotten into another fight about what Wells wanted to do with his future. It definitely wasn't becoming a Ministry worker.
With Jasper's parents on vacation in Egypt for the entire summer, the boy's house had become a hangout. From what Jasper's said, his parents really didn't mind that he had company over the summer and if Bellamy and Octavia hadn't agreed to live with him for the holiday, his parents wouldn't have left. She'd been over to Jasper's a few times, even stayed the night a couple times since the summer started. Of course, it'd been without her mother's knowledge. If she caught her only child sneaking off into the night, she would have a fit.
Especially if she knew about Jasper's unfortunate condition. Since he was about seven years old, Jasper's been a werewolf. As far as Clarke knows, there's only ever been one werewolf to attend Hogwarts before. A Gryffindor. His son finished school just a few months ago and told the tales he'd heard from his Godfather about the extremes his father's went to while they were in school.
It served as an inspiration, really.
Wells and Clarke had been the first people to figure out what was wrong with Jasper due to their constant readings, and of course the stories Teddy Lupin shared. Even when they asked Jasper, they weren't exactly positive he was a werewolf but they figured that if he was dying, his parents wouldn't force him to go to school. When they asked Jasper, he was so relieved that other people knew his secret that he almost cried. Still, at twelve years old they didn't have a clue what to do with the information and even Teddy had said that it took his father's friends years to become other animals.
Eventually, they figured it out and now every full moon they're known to run around like fools.
Under the gaze of her mother and The Minister, Clarke felt the need to lie. "Wells has always been a hard worker. If it weren't for his encouragement, I would have been completely lost our first year." This got a "wholesome" chuckle from the people that were listening to their conversation. The Minister seemed quite pleased that Clarke chose to compliment his son's wit in front of the group of people.
Clarke did find it a little odd that he wanted to impress them. He was the Minister of Magic for crying out loud.
"Still, he should be here on such a special night. Especially since his birthday is in two days. It would save us all so much trouble." The Minister said calmly as if Clarke was supposed to know exactly what he was implying.. Clarke found it a bit rude that he was suggesting that Wells could have piggy backed off this birthday celebration as if his son didn't deserve one for himself, no matter how ridiculous this one happened to be. "Oh, no dear I'm not trying to upstage your event with my son's, I'm just saying that—well, Abigail I think it's about time you explain to Clarke why we've all gathered."
"Ah, yes." Her mother smiled brightly at the Minister and Clarke felt sick to her stomach. It was the kind of smile only a person shares with someone they fancy. Clarke started spinning scenarios in her head that involved her mother and her Godfather coming out as a couple at her birthday event. "Clarke, tonight isn't just about celebrating your seventeenth birthday although it is such an important milestone in a young witch's life." Clarke had to hold back a laugh because her mother sounded so unusual. Abigail hadn't even wished her Happy Birthday prior to the guests coming. She's not even sure the people at the table actually understood that her birthday was today. "Tonight's dinner is about your options going forward. You can legally do magic now, you no longer carry the trace. It's high time we talk about your future."
"I already had that conversation with my Head of House…" She thanked God her Head of House wasn't at the party tonight. "I'm sorry, I'm quite confused."
"Well, this is a bit different, you see. I'm not talking about your career goals, so much as what type of witch you are going to be. For instance, some witches are part of the judicial system or oversee the making of textbooks. Do you understand what I'm saying?" Abigail was still using her fake maternal voice. It was like honey, but reminded her of a python slithering closer and closer.. "All the people in this room are part of a very selective group of powerful witches and wizards." There was a hint of pride in her tone. "And we would like you to be part of this group. I might add that it's quite an honor to be invited so young. The only other person to receive an invitation at your age will be Wells. "
The Minister nodded, a wide smile breaking across his face. "Yes, you have both accomplished way more than we ever imagined you could in such a short time. You've excelled beyond any parent's dream and we want to reward you." Clarke never trusts people that feel the need to stroke her ego as a tactic. "We would be immensely proud if you joined."
"So, is it like a leadership group?" Clarke questioned, her instincts telling her that it didn't make sense for some of the people to be here if it was about leadership.
"In a way, I guess you could say that it's similar to a leadership group." Abigail began, choosing her words very carefully. It put Clarke on alert. "This involves many different concepts but ultimately people like us believe the wizarding world needs order, needs change. Our group values the tradition our ancestor's started. There are far too many things going on that have been pushed by the agendas of previous Headmasters and crooked politicians." Abigail sighed as she watched her daughter process the information. Clarke looked stricken, like someone had just jinxed her. "There's a bit of a muggle problem, dear, as you know and these new breeds are causing trouble for the wizarding community. Giants, Centaurs, Werewolves, the likes. We aim to solve it."
She felt her heart sink to her stomach. Her mother kept talking but Clarke wasn't in the right state of mind to listen to her. What?
The Minister of Magic was still smiling and it made her sick. "As the next generations come of age, I expect you to help promote our values. As pure bloods, our rights have been diminished to accommodate people that do not deserve it. It's that simple. You're a prestigious and high regarded students, and you'll be extremely useful to our cause in the future. And maybe one day, you can live up to your mother's hard work as a Healer. Her methods of discrete sterilization have been great for the cause."
Clarke now fully faced her mother, an expression of horror etched across her features. "Sterilization?" Clarke realized that she was in a room filled with people that believed in blood purity and status. If she were to speak out in that moment, she most definitely wouldn't be safe. They would probably kill her. I've seen all of their faces.
Her mother seemed to recognize the pure conflict on her daughter's face. She also seemed to be the only one at the table as people smiled at her. The Minister continued with his speech of endorsement until Clarke cleared her throat, cutting him off. He looked shocked, "I apologize Minister. I just need to go to the loo and I just can't seem to hold it any longer. Do you mind?" Some of the guests laughed, and Professor Sydney rolled her eyes. The Minister was taken aback but clearly confident that she wasn't planning on doing anything insane. Clarke quickly rushed out of the ballroom, making sure the doors were well shut behind her.
Her mind was in panic mode. Run, run, run, run… her body kept telling her it was the only option. Quickly, she did the only thing she could think to do. "Yani." She summoned the Elf in a hushed whisper.
There was a faint pop and the elf was by her side, looking at her with a million questions. Clarke didn't have time to explain anything and tried to convey that with the a serious gleam in her eyes. "We have to leave. Right now. Pack your things, and gather my trunk but leave the owl. She's more loyal to my mother. Uh, grab anything else that you can get to quick, and my necklace. Please, grab my necklace. I can stall my mother just for a few moments but we have to be quick. Meet me at the Jordan estate and make sure Morrow doesn't follow you."
"Yes, Mistress." Yani nodded and snapped her fingers. Seconds after the Elf vanished, Abigail entered the hallway, obviously looking for Clarke or planning to pull her aside before she walked back in.
"What are you doing out here?" She asked her in a serious tone, hands finding her hips. "You have guests, it's no time for you to be daydreaming in the hallway."
Clarke laughed mostly because she couldn't help herself. It was a horrible habit of hers. In front of her stood a woman that had devoted her life to healing people and married an Auror for crying out loud. Never once had Clarke suspected that she'd be so far into a hate group that the Minister of Magic was comparing speech notes with her. "Don't embarrass me, Clarke." Her mother warned, "For once in your life, don't embarrass me because you're being selfish."
It took Clarke almost a full minute to form any type of words, "Embarrass you?" Clarke asked, incredulous that her mother would even go there. "How on Earth could I ever embarrass you?"
"I don't want to get into that right now. Let's go back into the ballroom and discuss our group." Abigail pulled her arm, trying to bring her back into the ballroom by force. Clarke stood her ground and gave her mother a look that was full of contempt.
"Let me ask you, mother, what do you call yourselves?"
Abigail looked lost for words, "We've had many names over the past century, Clarke. Now stop being idiotic and let's get back to our guests. I can answer your foolish questions inside." It took everything in her not to slap her mother.
"Would one of those names be Death Eaters?" Clarke pulled herself away from her mother's grip. By the look on her mother's face, the answer was absolutely yes. "How long have you been part of this? Was dad in it?"
"I joined after your father died. My parents were Death Eaters. Loyal. They understood what we were fighting for. Of course, they didn't know they were related to the Dark Lord himself, but they were loyal all the same." Her mother sighed, "Your father didn't know. He was very outspoken about Voldemort's ideals. He hated them. But don't you see, he was wrong Clarke...in the end, he was."
"How could you betray him like this? Betray the Headmaster, for that matter. Last I checked, Marcus Kane was a friend."
"Marcus Kane is a fool." Abigail said with a scoff, "He believes in the legacy Albus Dumbledore left behind, you see." She tried to reach for Clarke again, "I'm not betraying your father, Clarke. He was killed by a muggle. That must mean something to you deep down, dear. I know that you've been struggling since the tournament but this will give you the structure and the push you need to become the witch I know you can be."
"You're wrong, mom." Clarke felt the desperation in her own voice. She wished this was just a sick joke but it was obvious her mother believed every word coming from her mouth. "I'm declining your invitation. I refuse to be part of your hate group." Abby's hands barely touched Clarke before Clarke jumped away from her. She gave her mother one last look, one last chance to drop the act but it didn't happen. Clarke found herself running out the front door as fast as she could, hands fumbling to pick up the edges of her dress, blindly reaching for her wand. Clarke was wearing a leg holster that she bought in Hogsmeade the year before. She'd read an entry in Auror Accounts by a deceased Auror, that went by the nickname Mad-Eye, one should never put their wand in their back pocket or anywhere near parts they would miss if blown off.
She found it weird that she thought of something so trivial as she ran from her home. In unison, the snake statues her mother recently bought started screeching, "She's getting away, she's getting away!" Distantly, she heard the ballroom doors slamming and people yelling. The only thing Clarke could think was fuck.
She knew it was useless to look behind her but she couldn't help it. Sparing a glance, she found the motivation to run a little faster. There were at least fifteen people running towards her at full speed. She knew she couldn't stop to take off her heels, but damn she wanted to do it. They were slowing her down. Her entire outfit was slowing her down.
The temperature had dropped and the wind was quite chilly against her bare arms so when a hand was on the precept of grabbing her, she could feel the person's body heat and their hot breath against the back of her head. She skirted out of the person's grasp, sending a particularly powerful spell his way so he wouldn't be able to catch up again. The rest of the crowd was uncomfortably close.
"It's now or never." She told herself before she closed her eyes and apparated. It wasn't the first time she's done it. Her father used to strictly travel by apparition or through muggle methods. Her mind went back to a few lessons from class: Destination, Determination, Deliberation. It was her plan to take the test tomorrow and get her license. Something told her that she was going to have to postpone.
Clarke couldn't go to the Jordan home just yet. She thought of a place she'd been to once, it held little meaning to her. It was merely by accident that she stumbled upon it in the first place. But, if she were followed they would question why she went there first. At least, that's what she hoped. She only let her feet touch the ground for a second before she found herself in the middle of a large open field. It was a picture she'd seen in a magazine and even she had no idea where exactly she happened to be.
She allowed herself to catch her breath, but moved again. This time, she went somewhere familiar. It was a trap. She went to her old home, and for a second she saw the overgrown vines and the ugliness that had taken over the place. It looked like a living representation of grief. The sob she'd been holding back tried to break through but she moved again.
She ended up on the coast. It was a place her mother wasn't aware of her spending any time at but she cursed herself for even thinking of the place. The ocean waves were crashing against the rocks, beating them all to hell in an endless fight. Clarke took a deep breath of the salty air and vanished.
Clarke envisioned the illusion that was the Jordan home. It looked like an old cottage that had seen better days. The windows were broken and it didn't seem to have any electricity. The Jordan's didn't care for unwanted company on account of their son being a werewolf. The entire home was underground, spelled to have false windows and filtered air. It was a beautiful home, or as Monty referred to it, a prototype for future living. Jasper's dad was an inventor for the Ministry, and a damn good one although he's never been promoted. Clarke thinks that Jasper's father has declined because he did not want the attention on his family.
The Jordan's were quite sweet. His mother was a tiny woman, obsessed with muggle food and surprisingly, Pinterest although Jasper had to frequently help her with the desktop computer.
For a few breaths, she thought she was dead. The swirling black never seemed to end but her head felt like it was splitting in two so she assumed she was still very much alive. Clarke landed on dewy grass, the wetness soaking through the fabric at her knees. It only took her half a second to dismiss that observation. Her body suddenly felt like it was ripping apart, like she'd pulled every muscle in her body.
She let out an awful scream before the world went black again.