Umm...we are...sorry, if this is a disappointment, but Siofra is currently nursing a cold, and I am very busy with RL, so we tried to get this out to you as quick as possible.
Thanks to all those who reviewed! It's always a nice surprise to open up emails and see lots! And to all those who faved/followed/added to Communities.
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WARNING: OOC, AU, MUCH AU, VERY AU, peasant bashing, Macbeth, Hamlet, and (insert whatever you find offensive here).
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"...to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune..." Hamlet, 3;1
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On the fourth floor, in a classroom that was once used for the Arts, three teenagers gathered, each with varying levels of disgust written across their face.
"This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard of." Theo eventually burst out. "An age line being the only thing that protects the bloody Goblet. What the actual…."
"Language, Theo." Luna interrupted, the normally scatty witch staring out the window, eyes narrowed at the approaching storm clouds. "By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes."
"You don't need to tell me that." Theo grumbled. "Ever since Fay escaped, the castle has been on a tighter lockdown. My permission slip for Hogsmeade was denied by the Headmaster on the basis of 'low grades', and my skin feels like there's ants crawling beneath it." He ran a hand through ash brown hair, mussing it terribly.
"Fair is foul, foul is fair, hover through fog and filthy air." Luna muttered.
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"Enough."
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Belladonna Vulpecula Potter stood from her seat in the corner, knife twirling between her fingers. Immediately, Theo and Luna snapped their attention to her. Belladonna preened a little (bowbeforemepeasants) before she gritted her teeth as the sticky feeling of stagnant magic washed over her, stifling in the way it curled around the room and clung to her skin. She hated this damn castle, with every fibre of her being, but that was nothing compared to the way Fay loathed every restriction that was placed on her.
"This is undoubtedly a trap."
"No kidding." Theo, in the most wonderful display of pureblood aristocracy manners, sprawled out on the beaten couch they had fixed, legs kicked up on the armrest. "But the question is, for whom? Surely they won't be as stupid as too…"
"Do not underestimate the collective stupidity of the Wizarding World, Theo. There are only a few exceptions, the most notable at this current time being yourself and Luna."
"You do not count yourself part of our world, then?" Luna queried. Belladonna gave a derisive snort.
"The fools wish I was part of their world. Weasley's and Granger especially."
Thunder cracked, and rain lashed against the windows, Luna smiling in a not so pleasant way.
"Those lesser often wish that they could be a part of something greater." She conceded.
Belladonna shook her head, and joined Luna by the window, Theo moving to stand behind the Ravenclaw, as they stared out across the turbulent waters of the lake. How much more could she take, could they all take, of this rank magic saturating into their bones, of the eyes that watched their every move (greensilverbluebronzeredgold), just waiting for them to slip up? The very act was exhausting; wearing a continuous mask during class, in her dorm, walking the halls, pretending to be their 'Golden Girl', tolerating the masses of peasants and spineless worms who dared to speak to her. How much more could Theo take, subjected to the cruel tauntings of his housemates and his 'father', no rest in between, bar these quiet moments that the Trio managed to secure, far away from anyone.
(The West side of the fourth floor is said to be haunted, Fred Weasley had once told her, George nodding beside him, haunted by the ghosts of students who never made it out of Hogwarts alive).
Belladonna knew why Theo's permission slip was denied, and it wasn't for the 'low grades' excuse that the Headmaster had spouted. It was the same reason Fay had left (achecoldmissingtrapped), the same reason Luna was always being watched by her housemates, and the same reason her own housemates tried to curry favour and made pathetic overtures of 'friendship' (lieslieslies). There had been whispers, whispers that she had heard from the gossipy peasants that she shared a dorm with, from the portraits, from teachers who thought that they had secured the area (not much to secure against if you were already there), about the…unnatural fire that coursed through her system, their systems. The burning hangings on her bed were all but Gryffindor legend by now, the stories from her second year when she had set Edgecombe on fire for bullying Luna, all accumulated into simple fact.
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Belladonna Vulpecula Potter was dangerous.
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And when most people were faced with something dangerous, something much higher on the food chain than them, they were faced with three options; flee, contain, or destroy.
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This castle was a cage, and she wanted out.
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"How long until the other schools arrive?" She asked, lightning flashing across her vision.
"The First Task will be in November, Champions picked on Samhain." Luna answered. "I anticipate that they will arrive end of September, or early October, to acclimatize."
"A bad omen, for champions to be picked on that date." Belladonna commented.
"Being in Hogwarts is a bad omen." Theo grumbled, moving away from the window to sit at the old piano he'd meticulously tuned, coaxing a sad tune out of the worn strings as the thunder rumbled once more, the windows vibrating at the sound. Belladonna had to agree with him there, despite the brunet's flair for being overly dramatic and pessimistic. Maybe it was something she should bring up with Professor Trelawney in her next tea-session (extra tutoring, Trelawney had told the old Headmaster, a gift like this can easily go to waste if it isn't cultivated); the canny Seer, whose predictions were few but no less true, knew a lot more than she let on, and who often fooled everyone with the air-headed and theatrical performance she put on. Professor Trelawney knew things, unlike the majority of the pathetic peasants posing as professors.
"Do you think it will be possible to arrange a transfer to a school this late in our education?" Luna sounded hopeful (this place was Hell, and they all knew it). Theo shrugged, the song taking on a darker tone.
"Beauxbaton's might; their Headmistress is said to be one of the best in the world, ranked after Mahōtokoro and Uagadou. Durmstrang is led by one of my father's old…colleagues, Karkaroff, and have stricter rules on entrance and transfers. With Hogwarts current educational standards, we'd either have to attend a rather rigorous summer school, or start in the age group two years below ours."
"You've done your research, Theo." Belladonna gave him a sharp smile. Clever peasant. "Have you been planning this for a while, now?"
"I knew that as soon as the Headmaster announced the blasted tournament, you'd want to figure out if you could transfer or not." Theo admitted. "Let's face it, you're not exactly discreet about your opinions on being here."
Belladonna gave him a look, but Theo only rolled his eyes, and stopped playing.
"Belladonna, we are your friends." Luna spoke up. "We do notice more than others, bar Fay. Please understand, we are all trying to get out of this festering pit."
"Especially since the esteemed Headmaster makes a point of flaring his magic during meals." Theo shuddered. "It's enough to put me off eating. Beauxbaton's will be our best bet for getting out of here, and it's practically a gateway to the rest of Magical Europe."
"Will it be far enough away from England, though? Or will the Headmaster's reach extend even there." Belladonna mused. "Theo. I need you to look into the rules surrounding withdrawals from Hogwarts. If there is fine print, I want to know it."
"Consider it done, I'll have it for you by Friday."
"Luna, let me know if you See anything."
"I will."
Belladonna nodded, and made her way towards the door.
"Where are you going?" Theo asked, scrambling to his feet. Belladonna turned, and gave him a sharp grin.
"To consult the Oracle, of course."
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Silver flashed, red spilled, and Death hovered in the air.
'Trap, visitors from far away, and death.' Belladonna mused, headless of the blood and entrails coating her hands. 'How perfectly…obvious. As if I haven't been seeing this for months.' The rat on the table in front of her said nothing. Belladonna sighed. She excelled at Divination, enjoyed the rush of blood spilling it's secrets onto the table, but…it had its drawbacks. Theo could read Runes (bloodchancemagic), but they weren't much clearer, and Luna could See (cloudyobscuredmisty), but there was never anything concrete. 'Trap' was obvious; the castle was a cage, and the trap had been sprung long ago to keep her here, and now it was just a matter of dodging the smaller ones, like that damn test in her first year (weaksimpleinsultstupid), and perhaps this whole Tournament thing. 'Visitors' clearly referred to the visiting schools, or perhaps this year's Defence Professor, who proved to be as useless as the other peasants that preceded him, or maybe it meant that someone else was going to visit, and that was unplanned (maybe someone would rescue her from this Hellhole).
'Death' was a little trickier; she could only hope that it meant the Headmaster, or perchance some other irritating little peasant that she despised (allofthemwillburn). She had been hoping for something different, a slight divergence from the norm in the entrails, but it seemed that those three particular messages were all she was going to see (rageangerirritation), and they were the only three omens that she'd been seeing for the past four months (boredomsuspicioncages), even when she'd managed to sneak past the pigs and the giraffe to go rat hunting during the summer (toohothotroasting).
Haruspicy was an exact art, but…it was often unclear, and Belladonna hated it.
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She hated everything about this damn place.
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Red sparked, and the rat corpse in front of her disintegrated, the flames licking at the table beneath and trailing up her arms. Belladonna gave a sharp inhale as warmth flooded her veins, and there was something just beyond her grasp….
Pain split her head, and she dropped to her knees as her vision went white, groaning. She tried to reach for the warmth once more (healingyellowgoldwarm), only for the pain to increase. She resisted a scream, and settled for curling up in a ball (agonyhurtshurtshurts), hands clutching her head as one of the most monstrous migraines set in. She knew she couldn't go to the Hospital Wing; the Nurse peasant (notmynurse) was too far deep into the Headmaster's pocket, and they didn't stock her medication (useless peasants), and the giggly peasants she shared her dorm with were insufferable (the bushy one especially), and would only tell her to go to the nurse peasant.
Belladonna found herself thinking of bright hair (like the street peasants that had welcomed her into their fold over summer) and the sun, of a golden yellow that would chase away hurts, before another wave of agony invaded her skull, and she let out a broken moan before she could stop herself (weakweakweak). She could have lain there for hours in agony, or it could have been minutes, before the migraine receded, and she could see straight once more. By the light coming in through the windows, she could tell that she had missed dinner, but she wasn't feeling particularly hungry (nauseatrappedtrappedpain).
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"I want to go home." The whisper dropped into the empty room with naught but the spiders and dust to hear, and Belladonna closed her eyes at the peasant-like admission.
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She wasn't sure that she knew where that was, anymore.
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Omake
Lussuria was born into the slums of Thailand to a destitute gambler and a prostitute who was desperate, and later abandoned at the foot of Wat Acha Tong*, a Muay Thai monastery, where they were raised and taught their beloved art. It wasn't until Lussuria, then named Kiet, turned twelve that the temple was attacked by a low level Triad group, and they was kidnapped, and tossed into the fight rings to make money. It was also then that they discovered a very important fact about themselves- they were a girl, stuck in a boy's body. But treatment to fix that sort of thing wasn't heard of by Kiet, so they suffered, and made others suffer, helped along by the golden flames that sparked and glittered beneath their skin.
Kiet planned, and plotted, and eventually managed to escape one night, dragging along a spitfire of a girl who had been sold as a sex-slave to the ring owner. The Iranian, Parisa, had led them across their homeland, remembering the routes that the slavers had taken her over and guiding them through dangerous terrain, blood red dancing through her eyes every time the Triads caught up with them, leaving no bodies left to trace. It had been a long, hard seven months, before they were dragged, kicking and screaming, to the Varia by the then Mist Officer; a slimy, officious Lūkkhrụ̀ng** who, after examining them with his solitary eye, tossed Parisa towards Vongola to marry her into some Allied Familigia to pop out Flame users, and shoved Kiet towards the Sun Officer, a loud African called Nubia, who had glared at the Mist and slammed the door after dragging Kiet inside. It was Nubia who taught the ex-street-rat-ring-fighter-now-assassin how to read, plied them with books upon books of human anatomy and psychology (we fix up the broken, Nubia had explained, and we provide the warmth to nurture growth), and taught them chess and strategy and how to protect others. Nubia had taught them how to fight dirty, encouraged them to keep up with their Muay Thai, taught them languages and Flames exercises and how to shoot and how to kill a man (when our own are threatened, Nubia had panted during a spar, we scorch all those who are against us).
Kiet in turn told their mentor about Parisa, and how the girl had saved their life numerous times only to be shoved back into where she had fought tooth and nail to get out of. About the red fire that had burned away the Triad members who had tried to kill them, about the rings, the temple, their parents, how the Mist Officer had betrayed them (hatehatehateDIE). It was then that Kiet had learned the Important Rules of the Varia: once you kill an Officer, you replace them. Kiet was a Sun, meaning he couldn't kill the Mist. He could only hope that someone else did it for him.
Kiet was finally Named, after a long, tiresome mission during which they chased their target through three different countries before they managed to corner them and poison them. However, during the process, their eyes were severely damaged, and it took them twice as long to get back to Varia Medical, Nubia scolding them as they fixed their eyes. However, the scarring around them was unhealable and made others uncomfortable, and the deep black that their sclera had turned into, along with the glowing daffodil yellow iris' unsettled their compatriots, so Nubia gave them glasses to hide (you should only show your target's your eyes, he'd smirked, then see what rumour makes of it) their most striking feature. The newly dubbed 'Lussuria' was then promoted to Sun Division's Second, and beat anyone who dared to protest into the ground (constructive character building, Lussuria had told Tyr when they'd been called up about it, to nurture them to their greatest potential).
Most of the Varia and various other clients thought that their name meant lust, referring to sexual lust. Lussuria wanted to laugh when they found out. It wasn't for that kind of lust at all.
It was for bloodlust.
So it made more sense when the Sun decided to play things up; pretend to be attracted to corpses, creep a few people out, be overly flamboyant and be mocked and harassed for being an 'okama', and pretend that their name did refer to sexual lust, because it was so much easier than hiding (darkeyeshurteyestearsofblood) and pretending that their eyes didn't pain them and migraines didn't lay them flat once they kicked in. Feather boas, bright hair, piercings, irritating nicknames; Lussuria threw themself into the role, and Nubia had only shaken his head (I hope you know what you're doing, he'd commented, while helping Lussuria with the neon green dye. So do I, Lussuria had replied) and helped Lussuria find strange outfits and develop their own style of assassination.
Then Nubia had died on a mission, and Lussuria found themselves panicking as the weight of responsibility had come crashing down upon their shoulders (notNubianotmymentornotmyfatherno), and they weren't sure that they could have handled it, until the new Head, Squalo Superbi, had taken them aside and doused them in enough Rain (calmsoothingblueserene) to bring them back to their senses so that they could think clearly (VOI! Shitty Sun, breathe, I already have to deal with hysterical Lightnings, don't make me deal with hysterical Suns as well. Be fucking Quality!), and start with a roster of who was on missions, who was assigned to what squad, who needed their vaccines. They threw themselves into their work, and healing the idiots that had gotten in the way of one of the more volatile Storms, and it wasn't until they were holding back Prince the Ripper (bloodragescorchedgrief) that Lussuria remembered the Mist Officer that dragged them here, and they met the cool blue of the Mist, and they smiled (you're next, a Sun had translated the smile to a Storm, the Sun will scorch the Mist eventually).***
And then the bloodthirsty Sky had waltzed into their life on the arm of the adorable swordsman, and Lussuria had made a comment about the feathers (bloodragecautionpassion), and the Sky had made a comment about the feather boa attached to the Varia jacket, and they had both Bonded (warmthwrathhomeskybelonging) over the ridiculous fashion statement the Mafia had set (too much suits, Lussuria had complained, drunk and giggly, so sombre, so boring. At least add some colour! No, boss, red from blood doesn't count!), and a mutual desire for seeing the blood of enemies shed (bloodwrathragesatisfaction).
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(It was no wonder they had all Bonded to the Wrathful Sky, the Second in Command for Storm Division had laughed, bloodthirsty monsters, the lot of them, and all a little psycho).
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Then their Sky was frozen (they were frozen, only the sting of a bullet drew them out of their shock), and Lussuria decimated all those who stood in the way of their retreat, dragging the injured Rain Officer out of the cursed room (VOIMYSKYLETMEGO) before they lost anyone else. Belphegor vanished for months, Squalo himself going to track down Prince the Ripper, and bringing back a shattered Storm (they were all tired, run ragged, trying to find traitors) who paired up with them on missions (I hate this, said the Prince to the peasant. So do I, said the Sun to the Storm) sometimes, who would drop by Medical for no reason other than to share warmth, the Mist Officer who would float in and discuss funding and budgets and charge minimal fees (for them, anyway) and, if the small Arcobaleno was feeling in a particularly bad mood (frustrationtiredsoresmierable), would allow Lussuria to cuddle them for a few hours and let their Sun soothe the aches. The Rain…Lussuria won't deny that they mothered Squalo during the months after their Sky was frozen (frozensmilesfrozeneyes), ensuring that the now interim-Head-of-Varia ate, slept, remembered to shower, and had even taken some of the masses of paperwork off the exhausted Rain (coolsoothingpaindelugegrief) to ease the load (voi, why are you doing this, said the Rain to the Sun. Because we share a Sky, answered the Sun, because you are a Guardian, and a friend. Friends help each other). The Rain had even let them touch their hair (s'nice, the Rain slurred, comforting), and tie it back as it got longer, adding feathers to honour Boss.
Lussuria blamed themselves when Belphegor disappeared. They had gotten so careless, and Belphegor had paid the price. If only they had paid more attention, if only they had gone with the Prince, if only, if only…
Lussuria had changed, then. There were more important things to worry about than fashion statements or freaking out people. They dyed their hair a darker green, added black feathers (balanceprotectioncunningdeath) to honour boss, and went about reminding the underworld why they were to be feared. They were Quality, the Sun Officer of the Varia.
The young things that came into their office (and sometimes, the older ones too) called them "Lussuria-nee-chan" or sometimes even 'Onee-chan'. Older sisters could be nurturing and caring, and as the Head of Varia Medical, Lussuria strived to be so. However, older sisters could be vicious too, in protection of their own. And Lussuria would be damned before they let anything happen to their little siblings again.
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For they were the Sun who provided warmth and nurture for things to grow, but when pushed, they were the unrelenting Sun who Scorched all who harmed their own.
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*- This place exists. Liberties were taken, sorry if we offend anyone.
**- According to Google Translate, it's Thai for 'bastard'. Take it with a grain of salt, and corrections are welcome
***- It was never proved who actually killed the Mist Officer that preceded Mammon. Some rumours say that the Arcobaleno drove the Mist Officer to insanity, and then the Sun Officer slaughtered them in retribution for a past slight. But, then again, those are just rumours….
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Um…pretty bad, I reckon, but I wanted to get this chapter out of the way. Lussuria snuck in there, but I don't want to tell them what to do.
Next up, the schools arrive, and Belladonna meets two very interesting people.
Sayonara,
Victoria