Here's the next part! The next chapter will be up before the end of the week. So don't forget to follow and favorite, and leave me a review to tell me what you think.
Much love,
JJ
xxx
Chapter 3
The very first time he'd seen her had been when he'd boarded the Express. She was sat alone in one of the compartments wearing her school robes and a simple pair of leather Mary Janes. Her baby blue eyes were underlined with dark circles as if the girl hadn't slept in weeks. Her long, inky black hair seemed to contrast too sharply with her pale skin, almost like it was the wrong color for her complexion. She sat with her ankles gently folded, using the window sill to prop up her arm as she used her hand to rest her chin. He noticed that her features were soft and her body was short in comparison to his. He'd always been tall for his age, and if she stood next to him he imagined she was a few inches shorter than his shoulders.
Almost as if she'd felt his eyes on her, she'd turned her head ever so slightly in his direction. Her expression didn't change, and she barely glanced at him for a few seconds before turning her head back to the window. It was as if she'd not even seen him and looked right through his body, like he wasn't even there.
Tom furrowed his brow. He didn't like being ignored. Not only was it extremely rude, but he wasn't a piece of furniture and acknowledging that he was there wasn't asking for a lot.
Squaring his shoulders, he clutched the handle of his suitcase tightly before marching forward and dropping himself into the opposite seat. The girl jumped at his bold action, before her surprised expression morphed into either one of annoyance or anger.
Tom didn't react to her obvious displeasure at him being in the same compartment, he merely gazed back with unmasked curiosity and like he'd predicted, she spoke first.
"Yes?" She glared, her face now a clear display of annoyance.
"I'm Tom." He offered. "Tom Riddle. And you're rude."
Her eyes widened in shock at his brashness before her expression hardened once again. "And I also couldn't care less who you are. Now get out." She glared at him.
"Looks like someone knows how to make friends." A voice laughed from the door. They both looked to see a group of four boys and a girl smirking in at them. "And people say that first years are always shy." The tallest one cackled. The group sniggered along with him. He was obviously the leader. "Come and sit with us, mate." He offered. Doesn't look like you're all that welcome in there anyway."
Tom turned to look back at the young girl, to find that she was still glaring at him.
"Well? Go on." She barked, her finger pointing at the door. He huffed in disgust at her rudeness before grabbing his suitcase and marching over to the group. The tallest patted him on the shoulder in greeting before turning into the compartment right opposite the girls'. They all sat down and Tom glanced over his shoulder to take another look at the dark haired girl. She was now looking down at her lap, twirling a small bottle of shimmering, silver liquid between her fingers. Almost like she'd felt her gaze on him, her head snapped to the side to return her seemingly permanent glare before she shoved herself to her feet and yanked the compartment door closed with a loud slam and pulling down the blind to block her from view.
"Like I said, mate. You sure know how to make friends." The same boy from before laughed, the others joining in. "I'm Lestrange. This is Avery, Nott and Rosier. And this is my younger sister Luciana." He nodded to each one individually. "And you are?"
"Tom." He replied. "Tom Riddle."
"Stick with us, Tom. We'll show you the ropes." Nott grinned. "The first year is always the scariest. But by the time you've hit your second, everything is an absolute breeze."
"You're all second years?" Tom asked. He could tell this group had every intention of taking him under their wing. But as if he'd let that happen. He'd learn a few things from them of course, but like everything else they'd soon be of little use to him.
"Me and Nott, yeah." Lestrange replied. "Avery and Rosier are first years like you. Our families are pretty close, old money and all. My father's an advisor to the Ministry, Nott's dad owns half of Wiltshire and Avery and Rosiers' dad is a Chairman for the Ministry. What do your parents do?"
The whole group turned their gaze on him, and he couldn't help but feel nervous under their stare. "I don't know." He confessed. My parents died when I was younger. I know they were both magical though. Why else would I be here?" He shrugged.
"Unless you're one of...those." Avery shuddered. A quiet collective murmur went through the group.
"One of what?" He asked.
"A Muggle-Born." Luciana spat the word with such disgust that Tom could barely resist the urge to flinch.
"What's that?"
"A dirty, filthy excuse for a witch or wizard. Someone whose parents are non-magical and they end up either being a witch or wizard themselves. It's beyond sick. Magic should stay in magical families if you ask me. Anything outside of that is a freak of nature." Avery sneered at him. "You're not one of them are you?"
Tom fiercely shook his head. "No! No! I'm not one of them. I know my parents were magic. Dumbledore said so himself."
"Dumbledore told you?" Avery frowned at him.
"Yes. When he gave me my school list and letter." Tom said.
"Wow. In person, eh? Must've felt you were important. Guess you must be pure then. Otherwise why else would he bother?" Rosier shrugged before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a licorice wand to munch on.
Tom glanced over at Luciana to see she was regarding him with unmasked interest. A smile across her face. He frowned. What was she looking at?...
Stepping off the train and onto the platform, Tom followed behind the group, watching as they waved to school friends they hadn't seen since the start of summer and nodding politely to teachers that had come to supervise. He had sat quietly whilst the others had joked and laughed on the train ride. He had also, tried to avoid looking at Luciana too often. Any time he accidentally met her eyes, her gaze only seemed to grow more intense. What was with her?
He was pulled from his thoughts when a familiar head of inky black hair caught his eye, and he looked up just in time to see the girl from earlier step off the train. He also watched as she slipped the same small bottle she had before back into her pocket. He didn't miss however, that it was now empty.
"We're riding in the carriages, Tom. You're a first year so you'll go with Luciana, Avery and Rosier in the boats." Lestrange stated, spinning on his heel and marching towards a row of carriages, seemingly being pulled by...nothing? How peculiar.
He followed the group of first years over to the lakes edge, finding himself strangely eager to climb in. He didn't miss however, that Luciana seemed to be glued to his side.
"Isn't it exciting?" She grinned at him. "We're finally first years and we're going to be sorted into our houses tonight! I hope I get Slytherin. I wouldn't mind Ravenclaw just as long as I don't get Gryffindor and don't even get me started on Hufflepuff." She scoffed with disgust. Tom had no idea what she was talking about, so he chose to tune her out and instead, turn his head back to look at the girl from before. She was stood alone by one of the boats. She seemed, he noted, to rather like being on her own...
Penelope sighed to herself as she stood by the waters edge. She knew she should never have let Aunt Geraldine talk her into attending Hogwarts. This was a huge mistake. And having already taking her suppressant, she was beginning to feel rather jittery. It had only been a very small and weak dose, but it was all she had with her. And she could feel its effects beginning to waver already. Her jaw was starting to ache again, and she could feel her gums twinge in her mouth as her fangs pressed from their place under the skin. It wasn't enough pressure for them to completely puncture through, but it was still extremely uncomfortable. Her wig was also starting to really itch, and due to her god forsaken Veela hair having magical properties, charming it a different color was impossible. Even muggle hair dye had no effect. But she would have to endure the scratching from the wig. She couldn't let them see what was under it. They'd instantly know what she was. Penelope felt close to tears. There was no way she could do this. Her aunts' words about her schooling being a perfect distraction had been an absolute load of rubbish! 'Learn about your fathers heritage' indeed. No. She refused to submit herself to this. She wanted to go home, right that second. As soon as she was off the boat, she'd go and see whoever was in charge and get them to send her back to London. All she wanted to do was lock herself in her room and be left alone.
'Hungry.' A voice moaned from inside her head. 'So hungry.'
"Oh shut up! No one asked your opinion." Penelope hissed back mentally. Yes, Hogwarts could help with her magical heritage, but for her Veela heritage, she was very much alone...
What was she thinking about? Tom wondered as he regarded her. He watched as she stared at the ground, chewing viscously on her bottom lip. She almost looked frustrated about something. And Tom found himself very curious as to what it was.
"Do you know her?" A voice asked from beside him. Tom looked down to see Luciana glaring at the dark haired girl.
"No." Tom shrugged nonchalantly.
"Oh. I wondered if you did. You were sat next to her at first on the train. Now you keep staring at her." Luciana frowned up at him.
He shrugged again. "She wouldn't tell me her name."
"Huh. Snooty mare." Luciana scoffed.
Tom was surprised when Luciana marched up to the girl, a hand cocked on her hip. He watched as the dark haired girl glanced up at whoever was approaching, before a familiar glare settled on her face. A few of the other children had stopped talking, and were regarding the two girls with keen interest.
"What's your name?" Luciana demanded, her stance unchanging.
The girl glared back with matching disgust. "Who wants to know?"
"A friend of mine." She grinned. But Tom scoffed to himself. He didn't have friends. He didn't need them. "And I'm curious myself."
"It's none of your business. And certainly none of your friends either." She spat back, flicking her eyes over to sneer at Tom.
Luciana laughed. "I was right you are a snobby cow. You might be trying to fool everyone with those expensive shoes and school robes but you don't fool me. You're a fake. You dress the part of a spoiled little rich princess but yet you stand over here by yourself, because you know as soon as you try to make a friend we'll figure you out. Like I said, darling, you're no more real than those fake Daniella Diabolyns on your feet." Luciana finished smugly.
Had he blinked, Tom was sure he would've missed it. Something strange happened to the girls eyes. Her pupils seemed to expand from the center, the black spreading out to swallow up the blue of her iris and the white of her sclera. Her eyes became pitch black orbs and returned back to their original blue as quickly as they had changed in the first place. Like he said, if he'd blinked, Tom was sure he would've missed it. He even contemplated for a moment that he'd actually imagined it. It had been over so quickly...
An eerie quiet had settled over the large group, and Tom noticed a few children glance at each other nervously. Maybe he'd not imagined it after all, for it seemed he hadn't been the only one to notice.
He saw as well that Luciana now looked rather hesitant. The girl was probably wondering if she'd bitten of more than she could chew in this fight.
He watched as the girl took in a deep breath, before a small smirk graced her lips, a dark chuckle resonating from her chest.
"You know what?" She began. "You're not even worth the effort. Coming over here to get a reaction out of me, simply because you're bored and trying to impress a boy you barely even know. Huh." She scoffed. "And you had the nerve to call me a fake. But you're actually worse than that. You're not only a fraud, but you're also pathetic. It's rather sad actually and I almost feel sorry for you. Almost." The girl quirked an eyebrow before folding her arms over her chest. A few giggles came from around the group, a couple of girls whispering behind their hands, no doubt laughing at Luciana.
Tom almost found the expression on Luciana's face humorous himself. Her skin had gone bright red and a vein was beginning to protrude from her temple. Her breath came out in barely restrained pants of air and her fists were shaking by her side.
"Mark my words." She hissed in a whisper. You've made an enemy of me today. You'll pay for this." Luciana scowled before storming back over to Tom and continuing to seethe by his side.
He found he held no pity for her. She had gone over with every intention to start a fight and had lost. The girl was right. She was pathetic.
He couldn't help but smirk back at the girl, her expression fading into a scowl once again before she turned to stare over the glassy black surface of the water...
How dare she? Penelope sneered to herself. That pompous, self entitled brat had come over to deliberately start a fight. What on earth was she playing at?! Penelope had done absolutely nothing to her to deserve a confrontation, but once she'd seen the dark haired boy staring at her, it all made sense. She was doing it all to impress a boy? Good heavens she really was pathetic. Penelope wanted to laugh to herself. But she resisted the urge. She'd very nearly slipped up earlier. Her eyes had shifted before she'd managed to stop herself, luckily however, she managed to regain control almost as quickly as she'd lost it. She couldn't afford for it to happen again though. And if she started giggling to herself, the entire student population would start to think she was batty. But she supposed it didn't really matter in the end. She'd made up her mind. She was definitely going home...
The feeling of walking through those doors was something he'd never forget. That warm and safe feeling one can only associate with the feeling of being home washed over him like a tidal wave. All his senses came to life in one singular moment, the sensation almost knocking the wind from his lungs. His nose picked up the smell of dust that seemed to linger in the air, his eyes greedily drank in the sight of brightly colored stain glass windows, and the feeling of his fingers running up the stone bannister would be something he'd remember to his dying day.
All of a sudden, Dumbledore appeared from nowhere, before he began talking about some gibberish about Hufflepuffles and Slitherdors. Tom scoffed in response. What a load of rubbish. He didn't care about houses and house unity. He wanted to know how to properly use his magic. To learn exactly what he was truly capable of. But he waited patiently nonetheless as Dumbledore prattled on.
They were eventually led through two enormous, wooden doors, and entered into the largest room he'd ever seen in his life. Four impossibly long tables lined along the length of the room. The prettiest starry night sky shone from above his head, along with another large table along the back window that held the Hogwarts Faculty. And he didn't miss how every student already seated stared at the group of first years with open curiosity.
He paused along with the others, in front of a small stone staircase. For some reason everyone had been stopped in front of a stool, a very old and grubby looking hat perched on top. He watched as Dumbledore pulled out a long roll of parchment from his robes.
"Once your name is called, you may seat yourself on the stool, and you will be sorted into your house." He explained. "Antoine Avery." He called.
Tom watched as Avery walked up the stairs before seating himself on the stool, and Dumbledore placed the hat onto his head.
For a short while, nothing seemed to happen. He almost jumped when a deep voice that seemed to resonate from the hat itself, boomed out around the hall. "SLYTHERIN!"
A thunderous round of applause came from the farthest table as Avery practically beamed with glee and almost ran to sit with the other students.
"Brian Barkwood..."
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
"Bianca Covert..."
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Tom waited patiently for his turn. He frowned when he saw the feisty, mystery girl from earlier near the front. She was staring down at the floor, a blank look on her face. She was looking directly at the bottom step, but she didn't seem to really see it. It was like she was staring into thin air. If it was possible, she looked even more exhausted than before. The dark circles under her eyes were impossibly darker and her skin was a scary shade of white. But Tom couldn't help but smile to himself. He'd finally find out her name once it was called out...
'Home soon... Home soon... so hungry... need... sooo hungry...must...find...feed...' Her inner Veela refused to shut up from the darkest inner corner of her mind. Yes. She knew she was hungry. But she'd have to wait for now. She needed to find a teacher to point her in the direction of the nearest Floo. After she'd had a dose of moonwater of course. Her head was really starting to hurt and her fingers were beginning to twinge from where her talons threatened to pierce through. She'd wait for the sorting to be over and then she'd make a quick getaway. It's not like she cared what house she'd be sorted into. She wasn't staying.
But for now she concentrated on keeping her focus. She was starting to feel very tired, and knew if she didn't get some moonwater into her body soon, she was definitely going to pass out. She didn't miss how Dumbledore cocked a curios eyebrow at her exhausted appearance. She returned his gaze with the same intensity. The man baffled her. He knew exactly what she was and he'd somehow managed to convince Headmaster Dippet to allow her to attend the school. She remembered very vividly the two hour long meeting she'd been forced to endure with her Aunt. Geraldine doing everything she could to convince Dippet that Hogwarts was the best solution for her. And every time Penelope had opened her mouth to protest, she had been rewarded by a viscous pinch to her thigh under the desk. Geraldines discrete way of telling her to keep her mouth shut. She didn't even see the point. She didn't need to learn about the magical skills she'd inherited from her father. Veela were perfectly powerful on their own. She didn't even think she could ever recall her mother ever even using a wand!
Speaking of wands, she hated hers. The weight of it was unwelcome in her pocket, weighing her down like a bag of bricks. It didn't feel right to her. Just another farce. Another part of her disguise she had to wear. She didn't need it. Nor did she want it.
Geraldine had taken her to a wand maker in Albania named Igor Ivanaj. A man who only used rare and unique materials in his wands. She'd stood in the shop for over an hour. Trying wand after wand after wand. The entire process was absolutely exhausting and in the end, very much pointless. She had waited for the sudden rush of power and exhilaration her father had always described. But she felt nothing. Numb. Like always. In the end, she lied to Igor, pretending to bounce up and down with excitement and 'finding' her wand. It was nothing special in her eyes though. Neem tree wood with a core of mermaid scale. She was sure Igor and Geraldine had seen right through her. She hadn't cared. She was beginning to wonder why she'd allowed Geraldine to appirate her halfway across Europe in the first place.
"Penelope Gracey." Dumbledore called. It was her turn.
Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, she steadily made her way up the steps. A very microscopic part of her was nervous. Her father had been so proud a Gryffindor. Their traits were bravery, nerve and chivalry. And some part of her wanted to be able to share in that with him.
'You weren't brave enough to save your mother though, were you?' A voice hissed in her head.
"Go away. Leave me alone!" She thought back. She was careful not to say it out loud. For sure knew she would've shouted instead of whispered.
'I'm part of you, Penelope. The sooner you accept it, the happier we'll both be.' It jeered.
Letting out a deep breath as she sat down, Penelope allowed her mind to go blank, the voice quieting down until there was nothing but beautiful, black silence in her mind.
She sat down in the stool, before Dumbledore gently placed the hat onto her head.
'Hmmm. Now then. What do we have here...' a voice murmured inside her ear. Had the voice been female, she would've thought she'd been less than successful in shutting up her veela counterpart.
'Lots of bravery yes, yes. Good for Gryffindor, yes. There's cunning in here too, definitely. Hmmm... How interesting...I see...loneliness...'
'Who are you?' She thought.
'I'm no one. I'm a hat.' It snidely remarked.
'Well who, or whatever you are, sort me into a house so you can stop rustling about in my head! Don't you know it's rude to read someone's thoughts without permission?' She growled mentally.
'Quick wit.' The voice murmured.
'Don't be rude, Penelope.' Her veela tutted. 'Let the hat do it's job.'
'I told you to go away!'
'Technically I can't do that. I'm in your head, therefore I'm part of you. I can't exactly go anywhere. Maybe the hat can convince you better than I. You need to let me in, little girl. You know you can't keep taking that potion forever.' It mocked with a cackle.
'Make it stop!' Her thoughts pleaded. 'Just put me anywhere! Ravenclaw is fine, I don't care, just...please! Shut her up! Shut her up!' She begged.
'RAVENCLAW!' The hat bellowed.
Loud, booming applause rang out from one of the tables and Penelope practically sprinted from the stool and shoved herself into the closest available seat, ignoring the many hands the reached out to shake hers and flinching when she received congratulatory pats on the shoulder. She couldn't care less that they sent affronted glances her way, and she pretended not to see the way that Dumbledore regarded her. The way he looked almost made her think that he knew exactly what had happened in her head. But how could he? Only she knew. Only she had to put up with her Veelas incessant nagging and whines to be set free. No. Her Veela would stay exactly where she was and she was never coming out...
Slytherin! He was in Slytherin! Tom couldn't help but feel tickled with glee and pride as he sat by his housemates at the table. He had also felt a little smug that he finally knew who the girl was. Penelope Gracey. And he hadn't even had to drag it out of her, there was something very satisfying about being given the information so easily from Dumbledore.
Before he knew it, the sorting was over and he was listening to who he now knew was Headmaster Dippet, prattle through a welcome back speech. Tom tuned him out, his gaze turning to Penelope across the room. She happened to catch his stare as she looked up, and sent him her signature scowl. He chuckled to himself. He was beginning to find it less threatening, and more so... amusing. He watched as she was the first to look away, her gaze dropping to the table to begin scooping food onto her plate that had suddenly seemed to appear from nowhere. And what a glorious spread it was. Tom had never tasted such delicious food. Even the annual Christmas roast at the orphanage hadn't tasted anywhere near this good. He feasted on grilled chicken, along with baked potato and vegetables, finishing up with the creamiest chocolate mousse he had ever sampled, followed by a second helping.
"Slow down, mate. Plenty to go around." Lestrange winked at him from across the table, Nott chuckling along with him. Rosier had also been sorted into Slytherin, as had Luciana. Who was presently and regrettably, once again glued to Tom's side like some needy little lap dog. It was beginning to irritate him.
Penelope's inky black hair caught his eye over Lestrange's shoulder. Tom frowned. She wasn't eating. She had in fact, placed food on her plate, a slice of meat and a few peas, but was merely pushing it around disinterestedly. Odd. The girl looked rather skinny from what he'd seen of her. Maybe her parents were poor and couldn't feed her. So if that was the case, why wasn't she eating? She must've been ravenous.
Lestrange frowned when he noticed Tom fixated on something behind him. "What're you looking at, Riddle?" He asked, turning in his seat to follow his eyes. "Ah." He grinned, elbowing Nott in the side. Nott grunted in annoyance at being disrupted from what happened to be his fourth helping of raspberry trifle. "Puppy love." Lestrange chuckled at him.
Tom ignored him. What a ridiculous notion. He would admit he was very curious about her, almost...intrigued. For it wasn't often he met someone more closed off and guarded than himself. Intrigued indeed.
She didn't know how long she stared at her plate, but it must have been a while, because the next thing she knew, people were standing and following prefects back towards double doors. Brilliant. Everyone was going to bed. This was her chance. She jumped up from her seat and made to move around the table, before she suddenly bumped into a wall made of soft robes. A slight smell of sherbet lemon and licorice met her nose, and she looked up to see a smiling Albus Dumbledore looking down at her.
"Eager to be off to bed, Miss Gracey? You're in quite the rush." He teased. She didn't know how, but she realized he knew exactly what she was up to. She glanced around nervously, to see a few of the student turn their heads to watch with unveiled interest.
"I want to go home." There was no point in lying. "I don't want to be here and I never did. I just want to go back to London." Penelope could feel tears stinging from behind her eyes. The day had been far too long, and her exhaustion was beginning to catch up with her. Dumbledore kept his eyes on her face and waited until the last of the students had left before he spoke.
"Have you taken your Moonwater today, Miss Gracey?" He asked calmly. Penelope frowned. He asked her so casually, like he was asking her about the weather...
"Um...yes..?" She was still very unsure where he was going with his line of questioning, and when he shuffled his weight from one foot to the other, she noticed another man stood behind him, regarding her with a kind smile.
"How much have you taken exactly?" Albus continued.
She shrugged. "The recommended dosage. I went to the apothecary before getting onto the train this morning, but she didn't have any vials that were ready. She had to mix up something quick on the spot."
"Ah. A substitute then." The man behind Dumbledore spoke up, walking forward towards her.
"I guess..." she shrugged again.
"Miss Gracey this is Professor Horace Slughorn." Dumbledore gestured. "He's the potions master here at Hogwarts and also the head of Slytherin House. He is going to be preparing and supplying you with your Moonwater during your stay at Hogwarts."
"I'm not staying." Penelope stated. "I want to go home. So if you would please direct me to the nearest Floo, I'll just be leaving."
Dumbledore regarded her for what seemed to be a very long time, his smile unfaltering and his eyes unblinking. "Very well." He suddenly said. "Follow me. We can use the Floo in Headmaster Dippet's office." With a perfectly even stride, he made his way towards the double doors, Penelope struggling to keep up with her much shorter legs. She didn't spare back a glance for Professor Slughorn, her mood suddenly greatly improved at the prospect of being able to go home. She almost felt a smile tugging at her lips.
She followed him down many corridors and he finally stopped in front of a very large eagle statue.
"Bertie Botts." He said. Penelope watched as the eagle rose and span up from the floor, a stone staircase ascending from underneath it.
"Up we go." Dumbledore smiled, as Penelope walked up behind him. They walked into an immensely large room, strange instruments and large bottles filled with all sorts of potions. But the thing that caught Penelope's eye was the large fireplace. In a few moments she'd be home!
Her eyes farted around the hearth, looking for the powder she needed.
"Here you are." Dumbledor presented her with a large pot of Floo Powder. Her hand reached eagerly for the pot, when a sudden thought passed through her head, and she paused.
"You're letting me go rather easily." She frowned.
Dumbledore nodded. "You want to leave don't you?"
"Yes...and you're letting me go? Just like that?" Something wasn't right. This was too easy. "No grown up lecture about how it's late at night and I should at least wait till morning?"
"I see no point in trying to convince you to stay. You've obviously made up your mind." He smiled gently with a small shrug.
"Yes. I have." Penelope agreed. She took a handful of Floo Powder before stepping into the fireplace.
"But..." Dumbledore started. "It would be a shame if you didn't stay."
"Oh?" She frowned. Guess she was going to get a lecture after all.
"Yes, as you know, your father was a student here at Hogwarts himself. An excellent student in fact. He was very gifted at Transfiguration you see, which just so happens to be the subject I teach. I believe, that his talent lies within you as well."
Penelope scoffed. "I doubt that very much."
"I don't. Your father was a very talented wizard, talent like that definitely runs in the family. And I know for a fact it's running through your veins right now." Dumbledore smiled.
She couldn't help but sigh. "Unfortunately, magic isn't the only thing in my blood, Professor."
"I'm very well aware of that, Miss Gracey. As is Headmaster Dippet and Professor Slughorn." He nodded.
She pursed her lips in response. "Exactly how many people know what I am?"
He shrugged. "Only the people I have just mentioned. The school nurse as well of course. In case of an emergency. Anyone else you wish to tell is entirely up to you. The idea of bringing you to Hogwarts, is something I know you are not at all comfortable with. And I also know that you have had to go through so much more than anyone should ever have to endure, let alone a ten year old girl. But the purpose of bringing you here, was to make sure you felt you had control of something going on in your life." His eyes had turned very soft and gentle as they looked at her.
"Control? I'm perfectly in control!" She snapped.
'Liar.' A voice sniggered.
"Do you ever shut up?!" She shrieked. She paled when she realized she'd actually shouted out loud, and Dumbledore was giving her a look that could only be described as amused.
"Yes. I can see how controlled you are." He chuckled. "I won't lie to you, Penelope. I won't pretend I understand what you're going through. I won't act as if I know exactly how you feel. Only you know that. But I do know you are terrified and feel very much alone. I can see it in your eyes. But you can't help what you are, and it's not your fault, or even a problem. You're here because I want to help you. Your Veela blood is diluted with magic, and without proper training, and with you continuing to suppress who and what you are, that will, I'm afraid, have disastrous consequences." He sighed sadly, placing the pot back on the desk and folding his hands in front of him.
Penelope couldn't help but to huff at him. Her mother would be appalled at her behavior, but right now, in her eyes, it was justified. "I know. Everything you're telling me I already know. I don't want to be what I am. I saw what being...this...did to my mother. It got her killed! Just because some drunk Muggle thought she was pretty. And as for my father..." she sobbed. "He couldn't live without her! But he could live without me! He left me! He left me behind!"
The Floo Powder tumbled from her hand to the marble floor as she placed her hands over her face, and cried. She cried because she missed her parents. She cried because she hadn't been able to help her mother. Because she hadn't been able to stop her father in time before his suicide. And because everything Dumbledore had said was true. She was absolutely terrified and feeling very much alone. Her aunt didn't understand. Geraldine loved her unconditionally of course, but she was clueless about her niece's Veela heritage. She was eleven now and already struggling.
And it was only going to get worse as she got older. Or at least until she found her mate. But she didn't want to find him. She didn't want to know who he was or what he even looked like. She refused to bond herself to a person and condemn them to death should anything happen to her.
A soothing hand was placed on top of her head, smoothing over the black fibres of her wig. She looked up with watery eyes, expecting to see Dumbledore, but was very surprised to find Professor Slughorn looking down at her with a soft smile. Where had he come from?
"Come now, dear. Dry those tears." He soothed, handing her a small handkerchief. She took it gratefully, dabbing away at her eyes.
He smiled kindly when her her face was dry and pulled a small bottle from his robe pocket, filled with a very familiar silver liquid. "I think, you could do with a good dash of this." He handed her the ampoule, and she chugged it back greedily.
The relief was instantaneous. Her jaw immediately stopped aching, her gums no longer felt raw, her fingers didn't feel like they were protruding glass shards, she felt wonderfully awake, and the voice in her head, was beautifully silent.
"Wow!" She gasped. "Was that really Moonwater?"
Professor Slughorn chuckled with pride. "Oh yes indeed, my dear. With my own personal touches of course."
"Thank you." She beamed up him. "Thank you!"
"Better?" Albus grinned.
She nodded her head vigorously. "Absolutely."
"And the voice?" He asked.
"How did you-"
"Well it certainly wasn't me you shouted at earlier was it?" He laughed, Slughorn joining in.
"Seeing as its only the three of us in here, I'm sure you'd like to take that wig of, my dear. It doesn't look entirely comfortable." Professor Slughorn offered.
She smiled, reaching up to grasp the wig. "You're right. It's not." As the wig came away from her head, she felt her platinum locks tumble down her back in thick waves, stopping just above her waist. She rubbed a soothing hand through her scalp. The wig was unbelievably itchy and her head was certainly grateful for a break.
"My word." Slughorn gasped. "Dumbledore, you said, but...now I truly believe you. A pure Veela."
She frowned. "Not pure. Close enough though." She jumped when Professor Dumbledore suddenly clapped his hands together.
"Goodness. Is that the time already? You'd best be off, Miss Gracey." He gestured towards the hearth.
Penelope turned her head to the fireplace, a contemplating look on her face as she chewed her lip.
"Only three people know what I am?" She asked him. He nodded back. "And Professor Slughorn will provide me with Moonwater during my time here?" He nodded again. Only now he wore a knowing smile on his face.
Penelope sighed in defeat. "You win. I'll stay."
Tada!!!! I hope you enjoyed reading the latest update. The next part will be published before the weeks over. Don't forget to favorite and follow and leave me a review.
Much love
JJ
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