Chapter Two
. . .
Amaryllis gazed around her dormitory and at her dorm mates. One was a pretty girl with long black hair and big grey eyes, another was also black haired, but her features were nasty and plain and her grey eyes dull. Amaryllis recognised another girl from the sorting, Olive Hornby, pretty with brown hair and eyes. And the last girl in the dorms was short and slim with lusterous blond hair and clear blue eyes.
Amaryllis collapsed on her bed with a sigh when none of the other girls seemed to notice her.
I wonder what Kayden's doing right now she thought. Her eyebrows drew together in a frown as she thought this. And then a voice chose to cut in through her wave of thoughts.
"You are Amaryllis Ashcroft, correct?"
It was the pretty black haired girl. There was a calm smile plastered on her lips though the dangerous light in her grey eyes betrayed what she was thinking. Up close, Amaryllis could see that she was even more lovely and pretty, and that thought made her fume.
"Yes, and you are?" Amaryllis hadn't meant for her voice to sound so harsh and rude, but it was invitable.
"Lucretia Black and the other girls are Walburga Black, Olive Hornby and Druella Rosier."
Amaryllis remained tight lipped throughout the exchange and when the so called 'Lucretia Black' finished speaking, she turned her gaze to the other black haired girl in the room.
"You are Walburga Black?" She intoned.
'Walburga Black' whirled to face her when she heard her name called, when, before, she had been in an avid discussion with Olive Hornby.
In Ameryllis' opinion, Walburga Black was nothing in comparision to her beautiful cousin, Lucretia. Her facial features were nasty and plain, her grey eyes were boring and dull and her black hair lacked luster compared to Lucretia's shiny black hair.
Amaryllis stifled a snicker when Walburga's eyes narrowed, almost as if she could pick up what she was thinking.
Finally, Walburga replied, "you're not terribly pretty yourself, Ashcroft."
Amaryllis flushed angrily before she conceded. Walburga must have noticed, because she smirked. But Amaryllis knew that the other girl was right, she was not very pretty herself. She was not uncommonly beautiful like Cepheus or Lucretia Black or Olive Hornby or Druella Rosier, her features were quite plain. Her face was sharper than most, her grey eyes were duller than most and her hair lacked the luster that her brother possessed, but Amaryllis knew not to dwell on it, there was nothing she could do about the way she looked.
"Whatever," Amaryllis muttered, "I'm going to sleep."
She didn't even bother to unpack, simply deciding to draw the curtains back for her privacy and then fall into a restless sleep.
. . .
When Amaryllis awoke the next morning, she immediately set to showering and unpacking. And before she knew it, she was heading to the Great Hall with her new friend, Kayden, for breakfast.
"So," Kayden began. "How were your dorm mates?" He smirked when she pulled a face at him.
"Absolutely lovely," Amaryllis snapped. "Walburga Black is so beautiful that I fainted right then and there," she exclaimed sacastically. "How were your dorm mates?"
"Weird," Kayden said.
"Who were even in it?"
"Umm, let me think... Oh yes, Black, Malfoy, Avery, Rosier, Lestrange and some weird guy called Riddle."
"Riddle?" Amaryllis echoed. "Who's that? It's not a Pureblood name."
"Just some Muggleborn kid that got thrown into Slytherin," said Kayden carelessly. "He doesn't bother anyone, he's just really quiet."
"Very interesting," drawled Amaryllis distractedly. "C'mon, we can sit over here."
Amaryllis practically dragged Kayden over to one of the only free spots on the Slytherin table. Slowly, she began to eat until Kayden shook her.
"Hey!" She cried.
"Shhh..."
Amaryllis huffed but looked over to where he was pointing. It was a boy about the same age as her, sitting by himself. He was very good looking Amaryllis concluded with dark hair that was immaculate and brushed neatly to the side. His facial features were perfectly symmetrical and his dark eyes were like black pits.
"That's Riddle," Kayden whispered.
Amaryllis didn't know she was staring until Riddle's head abruptly snapped up and gazed fixedly her way. His face was blank, emotionless. For some strange reason, Riddle reminded Amaryllis eerily of Cepheus.
Well, they have the same blank look down she thought. She hastily looked away but she could still feel Riddle's gaze burning holes into the back of her head.
Instead, her gaze came to rest on a familiar head of golden curls. Cepheus. He was sitting at his table, the Ravenclaw table, two boys flanked his sides. As if he could sense that she was staring at her, he looked up. When his emerald eyes came to rest on her, his lips curled into a lazy smirk. That was all Amaryllis saw before she turned away.
After that, Amaryllis shovelled her food into her mouth, asked a ghost for directions and pulled Kayden to their first class, Transfiguration.
The twosome only had to wait for a few minutes before the bell rung, signalling the start of class. A flood of first year students came soon after and Amaryllis nearly groaned upon seeing the dark blue trim upon some students' Hogwarts robes. The Slytherins had class with the Ravenclaws which meant that she would be having class with her dear brother.
And no sooner had she thought it, did a blank, lazy voice speak out.
"What a pleasant surprise, Amaryllis. It seems that we have class together this morning."
Amaryllis spun around to face Cepheus, who was looking as composed as ever. Two boys flanked his side, the dark green trim on their robes indicated that they were in Slytherin.
The boy on Cepheus' left was handsome, his features were sharp and his tousled dark hair fell into his big grey eyes. And the other boy was familiar with his platinum blond hair and strange silvery eyes.
"Why hello, Cepheus!" Amaryllis spat.
Something akin to amusement flashed in his emerald eyes, Amaryllis flushed angrily.
"I don't know what's so bloody amusing, but so help me, I'll pound you into the ground if you smirk at me again!"
"Such language is unbecoming for a young lady such as yourself."
Amaryllis opened her mouth to retort but froze in surprise, it who not Cepheus who had spoken, but Abraxas Malfoy. Her eyes narrowed a smidgeon when she remembered how he had regarded her on the train.
"As if you would know!" She retorted.
"As if I would know?" Abraxas drawled as if tasting the words on his tongue. "I think I would know, Ashcroft-" Amaryllis flinched at the use of her last name but he continued, "-because as a Pureblood, you are required to know these things."
Amaryllis nearly huffed, it was as if he were mocking her, but the humiliation was worse since Cepheus and the unknown boy were hearing and observing the entire encounter.
"Whatever."
Abraxas smirked once before following Cepheus into the room.
"Bloody Malfoy," Amaryllis muttered, pulling Kayden into the room and choosing an empty desk away from Cepheus and his cronies.
As the lesson began, Amaryllis could not help but become bored. The Transfiguration teacher, Professor Albus Dumbledore, was a man with a mane of greying auburn hair and a gentle smile alight on his face. He was an excellent teacher, but Amaryllis was bored.
To pass the time, she began to twirl her wand between her fingers. Kayden spotted her out of the corner of his eye.
"What's your wand?"
"What's your wand?" She shot back.
Kayden smirked. "Twelve inches, Blackthorn, Dragon Heartstring."
"Well, mine's..."
Amaryllis struggled to remember before a memory burst to life in her head as clear as water.
A dull jingle sounded as the door to the store swung open. Amaryllis trailed behind Cepheus as he casually strode into the shop as if he'd been doing it his entire life.
A head suddenly popped up behind the counter. Amaryllis nearly squeaked but refrained from doing so when Cepheus tightly gripped her arm.
"Quiet!" He hissed.
"Ah," the man began, scrutinising the twosome with his pale eyes. "I presume you have come to purchase a wand?"
"We have," Cepheus answered firmly.
The man- Garrick Ollivander strode out from behind his counter and came to stand in front of Cepheus.
"Ah, I remember your father when he came to purchase his first wand- Braxton Ashcroft. Eleven inches, Aspen with a core of Dragon Heartstring, surprisingly swishy."
"Now," Ollivander started. "Are you left handed or right handed?"
"Right handed," Cepheus answered.
Ollivander then measured his arm and did a few other measurements before disappearing behind his counter and then reappearing a few seconds later with a small square box. He pulled a slim mahogany stick out and handed it to Cepheus.
"Eleven and a half inches, Mahogany with a core of Dragon Heartstring, surprisingly pliable."
As soon as Cepheus had grasped the handle, a pot suddnely smashed to pieces.
"No," Ollivander cried. "That is not the correct wand for you, Mr Ashcroft."
Amaryllis was starting to get annoyed, Cepheus had gone through what seemed like fifty wands until one finally chose him.
"Ten and three quarter inches, Aspen with a core of Unicorn Hair, pliable and excellent for charmwork."
Anaryllis nearly sighed in relief whe Ollivander approached her. He then proceeded to do the appropriate measurements before bringing her a wand.
After what seemed like hours, she grasped a wand's handle and was surprised when warmth instantly shot through her arm.
"Eleven and a half inches, Ash with a core of Phoenix Feather."
Amaryllis let a smile grace her lips as her eyes beheld her wand. Her wand.
"Miss Ashcroft," Ollivander began. "Your wand is a rather strange combination."
"Strange?"
"The ash wand cleaves to its one true master and ought not to be passed on or gifted from the original owner, because it will lose power and skill. This tendency is extreme if the core is of unicorn. Old superstitions regarding wands rarely bear close examination, but I find that the old rhyme regarding rowan, chestnut, ash and hazel wands (rowan gossips, chestnut drones, ash is stubborn, hazel moans) contains a small nugget of truth. Those witches and wizards best suited to ash wands are not, in my experience, lightly swayed from their beliefs or purposes. However, the brash or over-confident witch or wizard, who often insists on trying wands of this prestigious wood, will be disappointed by its effects. The ideal owner may be stubborn, and will certainly be courageous, but never crass or arrogant. And the core, Phoenix feathers are capable of the greatest range of magic, though they may take longer than either unicorn hair or dragon heartstring cores to reveal this. They show the most initiative, sometimes acting of their own accord, a quality that many witches and wizards dislike."
Amaryllis blinked at the overload of information.
"Could you tell me about my wand as well?" Came a polite but blank voice.
"Of course Mr Ashcroft," Ollivander began. "As you know, your wand is Aspen. Wand-quality aspen wood is white and fine-grained, and highly prized by all wand-makers for its stylish resemblance to ivory and its usually outstanding charmwork. The proper owner of the aspen wand is often an accomplished duellist, or destined to be so, for the aspen wand is one of those particularly suited to martial magic. An infamous and secretive eighteenth-century duelling club, which called itself The Silver Spears, was reputed to admit only those who owned aspen wands. In my experience, aspen wand owners are generally strong-minded and determined, more likely than most to be attracted by quests and new orders; this is a wand for revolutionaries. And your core, Unicorn hair generally produces the most consistent magic, and is least subject to fluctuations and blockages. Wands with unicorn cores are generally the most difficult to turn to the Dark Arts. They are the most faithful of all wands, and usually remain strongly attached to their first owner, irrespective of whether he or she was an accomplished witch or wizard."
"Thank you very much," Cepheus answered.
"You are very welcome, Mr Ashcroft. Now, your wands will come to seven Galleons each..."
Amaryllis was suddenly jerked out of her daydream when Kayden tapped her on the shoulderr. He gave her a meaningful look. She blushed.
"Oh, right. My wand is eleven and a half inches, Ash, Phoenix Feather."
"Cool."
"Mr Blooming?"
Kayden's head snapped up when the teacher called his name.
"Yes?"
"Mr Blooming, may I kindly ask you to demonstrate?"
Kayden looked down at the matchstick that had mysteriously appeared on his desk, stupidly.
"Oh, right."
He glanced at his book, muttered the incantation and waved his wand. The matchstick only gained a pointed end.
Oh my God, Amaryllis rolled her eyes. "That's not how you do it! Watch!" She muttered the same incantation but for some strange reason, the matchstick completely transformed into a needle before she could finish the incantation. She blinked at it stupidly.
"Ten points to Slytherin for a perfect transformation, congratulations, Miss Ashcroft," Dumbledore's pleasent voice sounded.
Why did the matchstick do that? Amaryllis thought in puzzlement. She didn't get her answer, and suddenly, she felt holes being burned into the back of her head. She turned to see Abraxas Malfoy assessing her with his silvery eyes, and beside him, Cepheus sat, a calculating look flashed in his emerald depths, almost as if he couldn't figure something out.
For once, Amaryllis yearned to know what he was thinking, what was hiding behind his guarded persona. But she knew she never would for he despised her as did her father. She never did know why her father had kept her alive.
But she wanted to know one thing: Who was Amaryllis Ashcroft?