A/N: Second Chapter, enjoy.
Disclaimer: I wish I was as good as J.K. Rowling.
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"Dearly beloved…"
She did not even hear the words. It slipped through her mind and got lost in the murkiness of her thoughts. Cradled in the mahogany boat in front of her, were her parents. They were both sleeping peacefully on top of the redwood barks and sticks that were laid underneath them. Her mother was dressed in one of her beautiful evening gowns and her father was donned into a charming black suit. She had to admit, the mortuaries had outdone themselves. Their hair was perfect. Their faces were perfect. And yet here she was, standing in front of them at the funeral that she had planned. The flowery meadow was completely empty except for the group of mourners gathered around the inner circles. All of them were donned in black except for her. She stood directly at the front in her simple white dress. White, her mother once told, was the true color of death.
"We are gathered here today to mourn the death of Aragon and Lillian Dumbledore and to offer comfort and solace to their blessed ones. These are harsh times that tests a person's will and whether they are facing death at this moment, they shall know that they are protected and loved and sanctified under the wings of the Phoenix…"
The shock of their death had crushed her several weeks ago, but now as she stared directly over their heads, taking her mother and father's face to one last memory, she felt beyond empty. There was just not enough time in the world.
They seemed so serene laying there that she was absolutely sure they could have woken up at any moment. However, reality was not at all that generous. They were completely gone.
"Through the loss of a loved one, we must forgive. Forgiveness must be given and received in return, through the hopes of which will recreate us for better. We honor not the approach of their death but the comfort of their memory, as we trust it would turn our grief and confusion and heal our hearts. Let them conspire with the Phoenix and become one, let them be reborn through the ashes and live again in the stars, in infinite vitality. The end that transpired here will not be summed within the skies, let them be free to roam the earth and dance in the clouds. To sing joyously once more as we finally release them from their binding chains to this cruel world. Blessed be." The priest placed his ivory wand onto the wood and exclaimed in a solemn tone, "Incendio." Fires leapt out from the tip of his wand and the flames covered both her parents' bodies.
She held onto the pain and loss, favoring it rather then that languid pool of emotionless torture she had been recently suffering. Her white gloved hands were fisted, the nails digging painfully into the flesh of her palm. She did not dare tear her eyes away from the scene. Whichever way her parents had died, she didn't know, but that was not their last stand. This, this was their last stand, and as their daughter she proudly loved them enough to fight the impulse of casting the 'Aguamenti' charm.
The helpers began to push the boat towards the river, and left it to float off the tugging current. She stared as the boat drifted farther away from her. Her blue eyes finally glossed with tears. Each individually streamed down her face and she had no intent on stopping them. It was finally her time to let them go.
A gentle hand clasped onto her shoulder and she peered up, finding the soothing indigo of her uncle's eyes.
"You should not be alone at this time, Victoria." He softly pronounced, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulder.
"You're right as always, uncle." She huskily responded, her voice having been used to cry and scream for the last two weeks. A sorrowful silence past both of them as they watched the burning flames cover the people they cherished. Dumbledore enveloped her further into his warm embrace, "They are at peace now, Victoria. Far away from here."
"I know." She briefly replied. The silence stood as they watched the boat head into the steady waves.
Her uncles wizened expression breached the cordial silence, "I know this is not exactly what you want to hear at this moment, but perhaps you could consent to letting me adopt you. Aragon would've wanted me to take care of you and I honestly don't trust Aberforth with your safety after this horrible calamity."
"...Would I have to live in England… away from France?" Her voice was strained.
"Yes." He quietly answered.
So many childhood memories were to be thrown away, but it would let her recover from the present tragedy. All her life, she had lived in France. She loved the flowery scent that completed the midnight air, the freshness of the land, the beauty of the cities. However, England was another story. The smell of England made her nauseous, the grime-filled air made her sick, and the monumental brick houses were not at all artistic. The English people only had one face, whether it was happy, sad, or angry, they only had one and she found them all terribly boring. Uncle Albus was different, and he led her to believe that perhaps not all people were comfortable enough to be like them. The people were all congruent and had a personal bubble that not everyone could possibly encroach upon. They feared discovery so they would put on a mask, one face. Not at all like people in Paris… but Albus would be there, and maybe that was all she needed.
Therefore, she calmly accepted.
After the mourners left, she still waited with Albus until she saw, within the distance, the fire die out. Victoria only wished that the hollowness would vanish with it. Albus gave her his hand to take, a reassuring grin on his face.
"It is time to go, little Victoria." He had used the old nickname he had frequently called her when she was a child. Lightly chuckling at his approach to lighten the mood, she grasped his hand and with one last remaining look at the ashes of her parents that were swirling and floating concurrently in the east winds, she finally gave a faint smile, "Yes, I guess it is."
Turning back towards Dumbledore, they began walking away from the meadow and never once had they looked back.
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Waking up in the dimness of the room, she blinked her eyes to get rid of the foggy dizziness. Covering her mouth, she let out a long, refreshing yawn before stretching her body and promptly getting off the bed. She swiftly folded her blankets and reached for a towel hung on her closet hooks. As she quietly passed by one of the snoozing cots, a loud snore caught her attention. She hid a small chuckle, the snore surprisingly came from Margaret Oswald, a fellow Gryffindor and positively one of the most visionary prima donna's she had ever had the pleasure of being acquainted with- and being at Beauxbatons, that was saying something. To her brief astonishment, the drama queen snored louder then a giant on a packed stomach. Victoria chuckled to herself and continued tiptoeing to the girl's bathroom.
Turning on the hot bath water, she waited for her tub to be filled. Breathing in her familiar vanilla essence, she leaned against the sink and let her mind wonder to where her thoughts lingered on a single person. Her uncle had warned her against this Tom Riddle and she had thought his obsession was rather unhealthy after the previous times he had repeated himself, but last night she had gotten a taste of that fixation herself and amended her notions. Tom Riddle was nothing like the rest of the people she had seen at the sorting ceremony— or any other person she had ever met, he was an enigma.
Lathering the soap onto her tired body, she remembered the innate sensation of looking at him, looking into his eyes. The pale texture of his skin, the sharp angles of his face, those alluring brown orbs, tinted with what she had thought were 'red' flecks. She did not even let herself blink at that moment.
Carefully submerging herself under the water, she watched the soapy suds float on top of her head. He honestly was the only puzzle that she couldn't solve at first encounter. Tom Riddle was clearly well endowed— handsome, tall, fit, and appeared to be most charming— but there was something lurking in those smoldering brown orbs. It was wicked, that much she could tell— but that was not all. It spanned longer then that and at the end of the tunnel, she saw a light. Perhaps just a touch of loneliness creeping through all the shadows, and it tingled her interest.
Remerging, she wrapped a fluffy pink towel around herself before heading back into the common room.
"Oh god," Jane grumbled, "is it morning already?"
"Afraid it is Jane." Victoria grinned, pacing towards the dressing room. She donned on her school uniform and came back into the bedroom. Several girls were moving around by now except for grumpy Margaret, who still moaned for everyone to shut the hell up and let her sleep.
"Is she always like that in the morning?" Victoria softly inquired at the grousing lump.
"If you think this is scary, you should see her on one of her monthlies. The woman has multiple ways of making our lives a living hell…" Jane rolled her eyes, standing up from her bed.
Victoria chuckled at her roommate and seated herself in front of a vanity mirror. Taking her wand out, she pointed it at the crown of her golden-white locks to apply some beauty charms she had learned from the appearance-crazed friends of hers from Beauxbatons. Within a few seconds, her hair was dried and naturally waved, gently coiling down to her lower back. Her face was lightly made up, covering any potential bags that would've appeared under her eyes. She assessed herself and nodded in acceptance.
"Oh Merlin," Came the gruff response of Margaret.
"Morning Margaret." She inwardly snickered at the red, fuzzy-haired puffball shooting out from the sheets.
"Hells of fire. Remind me never to slip in anymore of Ogden's Best before bed." She groaned, patting down her messy garnet locks. "Why, in all that is good and holy, is it so goddamn bright in here this morning?"
Victoria peered around the room, there were effectively no windows open for there to be any light. "Erm…Margaret, there is no light in here." She mumbled cautiously, hoping not to get in the way of the brunette's indignation.
"Ah, fuck it." Margaret gruffly put out, standing up and grabbing her own towel from her closet. "There better be some freaking peppermint in that shower." The "or else" hung in the air, creepily implied. Victoria chuckled at her new friend's antics, already feeling sorry for the girl—there was no peppermint.
Within a few minutes of waiting, the ostentatious result came without fail. A long, high-pitched screech sounded from the showers followed by a handful of colorful, unnerving words. Jane immediately came running out of the bathroom like she was being chased by death itself. "By Lillith! If I have to take one more of her little morning rants, I'll tear my hair out just so she won't need too!" Jane furiously screamed, scrambling for her uniform ad towards the dressing room.
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Walking into the Great Hall, she seated herself beside Jane. Victoria loaded her plate with the usual, a slice of apple pie, a blueberry muffin, a banana, and tons of strawberries piled under heavy whip cream. She adored strawberries and whipped cream since she was a child, and almost always preferred it over anything else.
Polishing off the last of her strawberries, she suddenly felt an indistinct pressure pushing on the walls of her mind. She turned around and peered at the direction of magic. The culprit was seated at the head of the Slytherin table, narrowly watching her reaction. Her heart instinctively sped up. He was scrutinizing her from across his table as his friends chatted amongst themselves. His elbow propped up under his right cheek and his gaze leveled in interest.
She boldly raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to continue. He quickly obliged and repeatedly attacked her walls. To her, a Master occlumency, it felt like he was bouncing a rubber ball against her wards and trying to break it that way. She could only guess that he had just started self-teaching himself the basics this year. One particular hit had caught her off guard. The shield cracked a little and her mind took the light hit. She easily repaired it for the next brutal attack, and the beats continued.
After a few short moments of letting him have his fun, she decided to end it. Using legilimency, she swiftly threw him out of her mind, smirking as she heard the unpleasant gasp escaping Riddle's mouth. She had caught him directly off guard and as he shrugged off his friend's concerns, his eyes reverted back to hers. In her point of view, it truly wasn't an expression of anger that he so kindly stabbed at her, but neither was it deliriously happy. To her amusement, if she could pick borderline expressions, it would be between utter amazement and pure indignation. A fascinating mix, if she did say so herself.
"Oh, you're a Riddle fan eh?" the voice came from Margaret, who was currently biting into her pecan muffin.
Victoria swiftly turned back towards her friend, still feeling holes burning into the back of her head, "I'm sorry?" she inquired, not hearing the previous words.
"Tom Riddle, the boy you were staring at who is sitting at the Slytherin table." Jane exclaimed, nodding towards Tom.
"And?" She quickly stated.
"Do you fancy him?"
Dazzled by the reeling question, Victoria paused for a moment to think of an answer, but that only aided Margaret's insinuations.
"Oh you do!" She harshly squealed.
"No, I do—," There was no easing her way out of this one.
"Don't deny it sweetie! Just now, you were all buttery eyes and jutting lips at him! It's alright though, I saw him staring at you from the moment you came in the Great Hall." Margaret bragged.
"It doesn't mean that I like him!" She countered.
"Well good then. I don't like Riddle anyways." Jane stated with her head held high, "He's so weird. He has this creepy feeling going on whenever he walks into a room, makes the hairs on the back of my neck stick up."
Margaret completely ignored Jane's statement, "You're not the first one you know, a lot of other girls like Tom too. Unfortunately, it just goes to show that all the hot guys in this school are in the snake pit… along with all those evil, malicious, grabby vipers." Her turquoise eyes flew towards one in particular, a busty blond sitting far too close for comfort to Charles Avery. Suddenly to everyone's notice, everything got all gloomy and ominous as the enemies locked eyes.
"Adela Altridge, Slytherin fifth year." Jane inwardly commented.
"Don't forget spoiled bitch-extraordinaire." Margaret put in, leveling her glare to the plastic-boobed, fake-tanned, hairy-lipped viper. She repeatedly stabbed her scrambled eggs, imagining it was the menacing little whore's head.
"Margaret has a huge score to settle with her for this one incident in our third year." Jane sighed, articulating that she had already explained this multiple times. "She's a right nasty tempered piece of work, Altridge. Her family's all pureblood-mania as well so you can just imagine what kind of lies they've been filling her tiny little nut with— Especially about how to treat blood traitors. I suggest you stay away from her when we're not around. Now that you're friends with Margaret and you're the niece of the most famous muggle-loving practitioners in the whole of Wizarding Europe, you're probably one of the firsts on her hit list." Jane declared, remaining surprisingly unconcerned through the whole ordeal.
"You tell me that now?" Victoria sighed. "Who's the guy sitting next to her?" She inquired whilst scanning her eyes interestedly among the many people seated. She observed them and took notice of their interesting habits. How they avoided coming into contact with the other houses by means of effortless grace. They made themselves apart from the school by being a tad bit better then everyone. Their uniforms were a bit nicer. The fabric was a bit more expensive. Their manners were impeccable; backs straight, chest out, no bending, pushing the seat out for girls who were leaving, pushing the seats in for girls who intended to sit. She understood the symbolic meaning behind it all. It was their intent to personify the purebloods rights over that of…well, everyone else.
"His name's Charles Avery. Very intelligent, somewhat quiet though. In my opinion, he's the nicest out of all of 'them'" Jane answered, pointing out the private group. "And Margaret's destined future husband, if everything goes her way."
"Isn't he just gorgeous…that brown hair, those gray eyes? Ah, I just want to drown in them all day." Margaret cooed, completely love struck. Victoria maneuvered away from the partial drool that was beginning to edge out of her mouth.
Jane sneered, "Don't mind her. She's always been a little…nutters when it comes to Avery. She's known him ever since they were in diapers, but he always overlooked her. He still probably doesn't even know of her existence. Pitiful really." Jane shrugged, looking over at the table.
"The guy who's sneering at Altridge is Callius Lestrange. He's on the Slytherin Quidditch team as lead chaser. Quite a brooding fellow but he's not as quiet as Charles." She gazed towards the tall raven haired Slytherin, who was at the moment viciously arguing with Adela. Jane promptly leaned in closer to whisper into Victoria's ear, "Between you and me, I think he has a small crush on Margaret. Altridge and Lestrange practically always argue over her." Victoria chuckled, and told her to continue.
"Well, the one on his left, chatting amorously with Eileen Prince is Sebastian Nott. He is currently vying desperately for Eileen and has been for the last five years. I guess he's not as bad as most Slytherins, I'll give him that." Jane assured, watching as the scruffy-haired jokester goofily smile at something Eileen said. While listening to Eileen, he drank a cup of pumpkin juice and suddenly guffawed, making some of the juice squirt out of his nose. Flustered with embarrassment at his sudden slip-up, he kindly took the napkins a laughing Eileen was offering and carefully dabbed at his nose.
"And the other one who's on his left quietly eating his meal is Adrian Mulciber. I don't know much about him other than he's in their little group and he's incredibly brilliant at Herbology, managed to ace my owl scores last year." She shrugged, forking another piece of scrambled eggs. The brown-haired boy in question was reading a book as he took his breakfast. And every so often he would look up and comment on something before returning to reading.
"Then there's Riddle." She indignantly voiced. Victoria cocked her left eyebrow, she wanted to know everything.
Jane warily peered back at her, "I don't think you should associate with him, Victoria." Then her gaze traveled back towards the Slytherin table where Tom was currently eating his breakfast. Surely he knew there were people staring at him, perhaps he even pinpointed that she and Jane were staring at him. Yet he paid no attention and acted as if he was unaware. Jane boldly continued, "He's dangerous. There's always some kind of trouble that follows whenever he's around. There were a couple of incidents last year and the years before that the headmaster had to hush up for the sake of the school. Girl's hairs burning, permanent hexes that led to boy's having to stay in St. Mungos, entrapment mirrors, and it all had something to do with him. I know it." She broadly claimed, sneering at Riddle.
"You can't be sure." Victoria softly stated, denying to herself that she was defending Riddle.
"I am... and I'll prove it one day." Jane grimly replied, going back to her breakfast.
Margaret quickly cut in, "There seems to be one missing. Ah-hah, found him!" She pointed her forefinger at the visible strands of blond hair that appeared in the corner of the Great Hall surrounded by a circle of giggling girls. "That, my dear friend, is Abraxas Malfoy and his adoring, raging fan club."
"A fan club?"
"Well, what do you expect? He looks utterly delicious," She sighed, running her eyes up and down the boys back. "I mean if I didn't have Charles…But he's a complete and total player, Malfoy. I think by now he's already slept with half the girls in this school. Usually if he's in a delicate mood, he would take a girlfriend for a week at the most but then dump them in the end." She shrugged, twirling her red locks.
Victoria watched amusedly as he skillfully courted each girl simultaneously. They sighed and swayed in their place and concurrently enough, some strode away in satisfaction. Satisfaction, she humorously scoffed to herself, wondering when the race of brainless schoolgirls would ever end.
Within a heartbeat, she found herself zoning in on Malfoy who was now staring at her, much to her surprise. She hadn't noticed until that moment and quickly lowered her eyes. How embarrassing, she lightly thought in disbelief. Shaking her head, she hesitantly gazed back. His amused smirk was plastered on his delicately pale face as he darted his blue-gray orbs at her. Raising his hand, he cutely waved, moving his hands swiftly from left to right. His fan clubs momentary loss of attention was clearly noted. Whilst his back was turned, they retorted by giving her seething and evil glares, before going back to googly-eyed giggling idiots as Malfoy cheerfully turned back to them.
Victoria frozenly gaped at the whole scenario, it rendered her speechless. She wanted to burst out laughing at the comical situation but controlled her light urges.
Soon enough, her uncle came bounding towards them with a handful of papers in his hands and a hearty smile on his face, as usual.
"Hello ladies, a lovely morning isn't it?" He made a show of breathing in the refreshing morning air.
"Good morning, Professor Dumbledore." Jane stated with a wide smile on her face.
"Good morning to you as well, Miss. Paddock." He exclaimed before pulling out small sheets of paper, "Here are your timetables. Another brilliant schedule Miss. Paddock and you as well Victoria. Good luck." He handed them out and grinned at his niece before continuing down the table.
They examined theirs and momentarily heard the shocked gasp coming from Margaret.
"Holy flipping hell, doubles herbology with Hufflepuffs? I'm seriously going to die of boredom in that rusted badger's pit." She groaned, repeatedly hitting her head against the table.
"Consider yourself lucky you didn't get doubles potion with the Slytherins. Slughorn favors his snakes." Jane sneered, narrowing her eyes at the sick piece of paper.
Victoria stared at her timetables and noticed the same for her first period, "Oh, I got that as well."
"Thank Merlin, I'm not alone!" Jane desperately cried, hugging her friend to her.
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