Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognize.
I thought that Ariana's story hasn't been told in full. She deserves better than the few paragraphs that JK Rowling supplies us with. (I'm not saying that JK Rowling isn't brilliant... I'm just saying that Ariana's story was a bit short and vague) So I have taken it upon myself to tell her story...
I will try not to drift too far from canon.
Please tell me if you like it in the reviews!
()()()
The little flower was shriveled up into a miserable brown ball. Its petals were like onion skins, its leaves drooped. It looked like it would fall apart into dust at the slightest touch.
Then the leaves blushed green, and the petals were striped with palest pink. It was fresh and sweet again, and healthy and young. It burst open in an overflow of colors and spirit. Its blossom grew wider and wider.
Then it seemed to give up, all of a sudden. It drew in on itself, retreating, running from the light. The blossom folded into brown. The leaves shriveled and wilted. The color died away into a murky brown once again.
How was that possible? How could a flower grow and wilt that quickly? It was a miracle. Or was it witchcraft?
"Come on," I whispered. I nudged the boy next to me. Matthew turned, looking pale. "What's wrong?" I asked, staring at the fear in his eyes.
"How... how does she do that?" he murmured. His voice was laced with disbelief, and a bit of fear, too. It was just a flower, why was he afraid?
"Let's go find out," I suggested, feeling mischievous.
Connor smirked, flipping his long hair out of his eyes. "Yeah," he echoed, in his gravelly voice. "Let's find out."
Oh, yes, we would find out. She had done this before, this witchcraft, or whatever it was. But we would find out how this time. Maybe she could teach us. Or we would put a stop to it.
"Gee, Parker, do you really think it's a good idea?" Matthew asked, scared. I glanced at him. He was looking a bit pale, but not too much. He could handle it.
I nodded. "Yeah, it sure is." And then, before he could stop me, I broke into the hedge. For a moment it was all leaves and I was flooded with green, but then I stepped out into the clear, fresh air.
There she was.
She was sitting on the ground, her hand outstretched. Her blue dress fell around her. Her legs were tucked up beneath her. Her head was crowned by a cascade of yellow curls. She was holding the lily in her hand. Staring at it, transfixed, as it grew and died again and again.
And then it burst, in a shower of fiery sparks.
I jumped back and barreled into Matthew and Connor, who had just emerged from the hedge. We landed in the leaves with a cry, and it was all arms and legs for a moment. I untangled myself and stood. Connor jumped up next to me, but Matthew lay on the ground.
She was staring at us with those piercing blue eyes. Was she trying to curse me or something? I looked away, afraid. What was she? Was she even human? Was she a monster?
Matthew was lying on the ground, panting. He was staring at the girl. He picked himself back up and we stood looking at her, feeling secure in our numbers. We could overpower her. After all, there were three of us and only one of her, and she looked to only be about six.
"Hello," she murmured.
Matthew took a step back and seemed to be about to flee. But I held my ground.
"Who are you?" she asked. She seemed to be only curious, but I thought it would be best to lie. After all, who knew what she could do to us if she knew our names. She could track us down, follow us, curse us.
I swallowed, not looking her in the eyes. They were so blue. As blue as anything could be.
"I'm... I'm..." Matthew stared at me, surprised that I was daring enough to speak to her. I wasn't afraid, though. At least not yet. But I was ten years old, I could handle this.
"I'm Michael," I blurted out. It was the first name I could think of. It would do.
She nodded, and turned to Connor. "Who are you?" she asked, in that strange voice. I couldn't quite understand why, but her voice seemed to search through you. Into you. Finding your deepest fears and secrets.
"I'm George," he answered easily, grinning at me.
Ariana turned to Matthew.
"I'm... um..." He glanced at me.
"He's Billy," I filled in.
She nodded again. "All right. I'm Ariana. Ariana Dumbledore." She smiled.
A strange name for a strange girl.
I tried to swallow back my fear as I voiced my next question. "How did you do that?" Matthew stared at me, horrified that I dared to ask. I stood my ground next to Connor, and Matthew huddled behind us. I could hear his breaths coming fast and sharp.
She stared at me blankly for a moment. "What... Oh! You mean the little flower, don't you?" She smiled sweetly. I shuddered. "It's easy," she announced. "I do it all the time, and other things." She looked pleased with herself.
Matthew looked like he was going to faint.
"Do it again," I ordered. "Show us how you do it."
"Yeah," Connor repeated. "Show us."
She smiled again, that strange, freakish smile, and plucked a lily from the ground. She pinned it between two fingers, and screwed her eyes up. She looked like she was concentrating hard. I held my breath in anticipation. Behind me, Matthew sounded like he was about to hyperventilate.
Nothing happened. The lily didn't move. It just lay there, white and pure, and still. I felt anger rise into energy. The energy into balled fists and bared teeth.
"Do it again!" I cried. "Now!" She whimpered, her blonde hair falling into her face. She looked so weak. But I knew that she wasn't weak. I knew that she could do those things, those strange things. So why wasn't she doing it?
"I'm trying..." she whispered. She flexed her fingers, crushing the lily even tighter. It was strangled and dead. She wasn't even trying. Was she mocking me?
I marched up to her, so close that I could have touched her, if I wasn't afraid. Matthew, who looked like he was feeling braver now, followed. "Do it again." I growled. "Do it again, or else."
Connor arrived next to me. "Again," he growled. "Or else."
I narrowed my eyes, trying to appear as menacing as possible. Connor growled. Even Matthew managed a feeble glare.
Ariana smiled. And, if I wasn't mistaken, her piercing eyes twinkled. They twinkled.
That did it.
When my foot connected with her stomach, I was rewarded with a satisfying squeal. Connor, as always, echoed me perfectly. Soon we were both kicking, and Matthew even managed to hold her down for us. He was shaking with nerves, but at least he tried.
This would show her that she couldn't trick us. Even if she did have freaky powers, it didn't count for anything if she couldn't do it again. We would show her. She would do it again.
"Do." Kick. "It." Kick. "Again." Kick.
Oh, yes, we would show her.
()()()
Percival Dumbledore was reading. Or, at least, appearing to be. But his mind was elsewhere. He must have read the same sentence at least ten times by now.
The red haze of war and battle cries descended over the valley...
The red haze of war and battle cries...
The red haze of war...
The red...
Percival snapped his book shut with a curse. It was fruitless to try and keep on reading. He just could not concentrate. He had this feeling in the back of his mind that something was wrong...
And then he heard the screams.
Instantly, Percival was on his feet. He Apparated with a fierce swish of his robes, and appeared in the backyard with a crack.
Six horrified eyes turned to stare at him, wide and disbelieving, and deep with terror. Percival cursed again. Filthy, rotten, brainless muggles! Playing stupid war games in my backyard! Screaming like banshees! Disrupting my peace and quiet!
And then something whimpered. It was a heap of despair, of misery, of brokenness. Blonde hair striped with red piled onto the grass. A tear stained face. The thing rocked with sobs.
Ariana.
Instantly, Percival's thoughts turned to fury. Damn muggles! They'll pay, they'll fucking pay!
He lashed out viciously with his wand. The magic was living, breathing, it writhed like a snake. It bared its fangs, it burned with power. It ripped and tore and burned. Percival smiled grimly at the sound of screaming, crying. Pleading, begging. Breaths were ripped from lungs. Words torn from speech. Thoughts slashed from conscience, from the mind. Life was extinguished.
"Crucio."
The three boys writhed on the ground, screaming and choking on their cries. When they couldn't scream, hollow gasps were ripped from their throats. They choked on dirt and dust and pain.
They deserved it.
And then, when Percival was sure that his daughter had been avenged...
The red haze...
The red...
"Avada Kedavra."
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