Eleri the Evil
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Years passed since Eleri first made the acquaintance of a girl introducing herself as Emma the Chimney Sweep of Normandy, a pureblood witch who had come to London in search of work. To her, Emma presented herself as a curiosity although that was not without the odd wonderment or two. Emma had about her a raw power that was unfitting for an orphan girl, and Eleri found herself often backing down from her habitually blunt way of questioning people when it came to her stare. It must be her lineage, for Emma was pureblood. Her line had to lead back to a great wizard, as powerful as the entire Danish fleet.
Eleri was born in Tweek, her parents of average standing in their humble community. Tweek is a small community, odd from its neighbors in its geographic isolation and the local muggle people's high tolerance for magic. This harmony existed in part because the population was small enough that the magical inhabitants could trade small tasks in magic for those without the ability, without it being a burden or hassle. Intermarriage was not looked down upon, but Eleri's parents were proud to be able to trace their family history down through generations of wizards and witches of Tweek before them.
The move to London sent the young Eleri into fits that lasted for months. She did not appreciate the city landscape, nor the crowds of muggles that suddenly she had to be cautious of. Why should she, as a witch have to live in the back alleyways of Diagon, and only leave when she dressed and acted as though she were normal? Wizardkind was meant to be greater, stronger, above.
With Emma at her side, she came to detest the other muggle children in London even more. The slightest of sights that upset her would set off her magic, which often manifested itself as sudden freak disturbances in the weather. There was little incentive for her to learn to control her 'rages', as her father called them lovingly, for the result to Eleri was justified and often the cause of her delight (as long as her parents were none the wiser). The muggle children's mutt on the street corner had deserved to be blown by a strange wind into the cart traffic on the street; the old laundry maid had deserved to slip on the patch of ice that formed in mid-summer.
But Eleri was far from the cold, determined apathy that would mark her future henchman Tigernus. For her it was the re-establishment of the great and almighty equilibrium of magic over man. She was not lacking in passion for her ideals.
Frequently Eleri would spend her afternoons with Emma ranting over the state of magic over Britannia; the Peverells returning to conversation time and time again. They were a family to the north, of status and with a large region of land they governed with the aid of their magic. Muggles were actually supported, unbeknownst to them in times of trouble by the family's magic. This practice had extended for generations, and in Eleri's mind was the point and cause of the reason those of magic were not able to show themselves.
Their unworthy association with those below them had muggles utterly spoiled, at the cost of witches and wizards. Further, the Peverells were rumored to have a family talisman, the likes of which were supposed to have kept the family in fortune since its creation. Eleri refused to admit she was jealous of it, even to her new confidant.
Emma, however, grew distant until the only way the two were in touch was over carefully written letters. It was easier, she had written, when she had so many chores at the orphanage to be able to write a letter by the soot of the dying fire after the caretaker had gone to sleep, than to risk being caught not working in daylight.
Eleri began to spend her days reading the manuscripts that were piled high in the back of her father's shop. It provided her mainly with a history of pureblood accomplishments and dogmas- but it was on the night of her sixteenth birthday that Eleri came across a passage that enchanted her into the greatest rage she had ever thrown. It killed her father, who had unwittingly been in the shop, and injured three bystanders who had been in the street beyond.
She was imprisoned by muggle officers accusing witchcraft, for Eleri's father's shop had been located in a muggle inhabited area of London. Her grief stricken mother was told there was no chance of her daughter escaping the trail without a death sentence, and until the first moment of the proceedings all looked to be over for Eleri the Evil.
Queen Emma was not aware of the names of those being tried for demonic practices each day, but she had the habit of attending the trails as her husband delivered their sentences for burning or hanging.
It took all of Eleri's unpracticed will not to explode on the spot when she recognized the Queen as Emma, the same orphaned witch she had met years ago. Perhaps it was that Emma took notice of the steam billowing from Eleri's ears, and knowing the potential ruin she could stir, called a recess in which she met privately with the girl charged for the murder of her own father.
Furious at being misled, Eleri threatened to make it known during the trial to her entire court that their Queen was in fact a witch— a fact she had years of written documentation proving. Equally incensed, Emma was able to keep herself the picture of calm. She agreed to let Eleri go, under the condition that she would not backslide and seek harm to herself or title once free. Unable to trust either by swearing over their gods, they settled for being bound in an unbreakable oath. Neither would seek harm to the other.
For the moment that was enough to satisfy Eleri.
Once free she fled to France, where she was eager to unearth more about the passage that had led to her inadvertently bringing about the death of her father. She had read of a wand of power, the greatest wand ever fashioned. Fabled to win against any foe, it possessed the magic of death and creation, bridled in elder wood. And at the moment this wand was without a master. It lay dormant in a monastery in Neuillay, guarded by the likes of muggle monks, who believed it to be a holy relic.
If there was a wand which could control her rages it would be this wand; it would be capable of directing her mania with the force of a thousand sieges. The possibilities would be endless…
Taking the Elder wand had been easier than expected. She left in the same season she had come, traveling next to Scotland, where she had received word from her Queen that the opportunity had arisen for them both to rid Britannia of the Peverells once and for all.
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