Author's note: Hey guys, here comes a new chapter again! I absolutely did not re-read it but it's 11pm where I am and I want to go to sleep, so please bear with me! Also, since argenteusvipera raised some valid points in their comment, I thought I would just copy/past my response if anyone had similar questioning:
1) Yes, Alastair is gay. When I started writing this story his sexual orientation did not really matter and I did not want to fall in the trope of "the female main character's gay best friend" but eventually that's how it turned out and made the most sense to me. It's the 40s and I suppose being a gay man in that time is not easy, to say the least, and this might serve as some leverage later. I briefly mentioned it in chapter 19 if I remember correctly.
2) It's a good point and there are plenty of reasons for it. One could be that through marriage, Annabel's parents hope to extend their network and either the Rosiers don't have much to offer in what they're interested in, or both families are already close enough to be certain that there would be loyalty without a wedding. My first thought is that Annabel's parents initially hoped to find someone who would accept a position at the Ministry to work with her father, like briefly pointed out in last chapter, and the Rosiers might have their own plans for their son.
Hope that clarifies a bit :)
Sorry for the disruption above the chapter, wish ffnet offered some alternative for authors' note but here we go. Hope you'll enjoy this one chapter :) Wish you a great week!
April 1944 - There was only water
A girl with chestnut-brown hair was sitting on the velvet booth seat, her body gently rocking back and forth. Torrential rain was hitting the window of the compartment in which she was sitting, the fog withholding any nosy glance to the outside world. She was on her way back to school after an unpleasant stay at her parent's home, two weeks of solitude that was tinged with resentment. She had been informed of her somber future during her stay: leaving Hogwarts for Ilvermorny, relocating across the ocean to follow her betrothed in America.
America…
What a remote land, she thought, so foreign, so distant from all she knew.
How terribly betrayed she had felt, after her parents' announcement.
Annabel had never truly accepted being a woman, which granted her with a womb that allowed for her to carry and to bear. Yet, despite how fearful she was of getting married, worse, of letting anyone so close, of having to depend on someone, she had, up until now, tolerated her parents' decisions.
Had she not been a dutiful daughter? Had she not been the child her parents wanted, beautiful and well-read, quiet and polite? Had she not kept silent about the dirty secrets her family tried to conceal, which could have stained her bloodline, only to spare her parents' honour, to protect the dynasty? Sure, she had rebelled herself a bit, but was her mild unruliness liable to such a harsh punishment?
She sighed.
Past the announcement, the girl had racked her brain day and night, scoured the family library for hours to find a way to thwart her parents' plan. To the exception that widows had much more rights than married women, Annabel had found close to nothing…
Hopefully, Hogwarts would be a better place to carefully plot her revenge. Perhaps she could find some powerful spell in the Archaic Druidic Magic or in the Witchcraft of Ancient Egypt.
The last words reminded Annabel of her grandfather.
She often dreamt of his tall and gnarled figure lately, the way he used to sit in his office behind his desk made of walnut tree.
Why now?
Did it have something to do with her looming marriage?
One particular memory often resurfaced at night, tormenting, for it was by far the most harrowing. She must have not been older than eight years old, spending the torrid summer in Cairo. That day, she had been laying almost bare on a hay mattress, her cheeks taut and sticky from blood and tears. She recalled how she had heard hurried footsteps up the stairs, causing her to shut her eyes, out of panic and out of shame, but the voices she had been scared to hear were long gone.
"At the beginning of time, there was only water" was how all the stories started, the ones the plump little maid used to narrate about the Egyptian gods, merciless creatures whom they were to worship and fear. It was her voice she had heard that day, that had pierced the stifling air, for the woman's mouth had yet to whisper the sweetest tales and let out a strangled howl instead.
It still made Annabel shiver, that scream, for the young woman had fallen to the ground and wept, wrapping her chubby arms around the girl's puny body.
"Why" she had yelled, cradling the child while salty drops wetted her face. "Why" she had screamed again, cursing against this world, in which little girl's bodies served as a tool for reprisal.
The maid had struck a conversation with her grandfather right after, leaving the girl in a blanket on the velvet sofa near the door. The complete house was upside down, papers and items scattered all over.
"We need a healer" had stated the maid, only to be met with the man's apathy. A pause in his tone had had Anna imagine the man's stern features.
"She'll survive this" he had said, with the miffed tone he used whenever people dared bothering him with the mundanities of everyday life. "They seem to have spared her virtue. We shall be relieved that her innocence remains"
Days later, when the maid had been dismissed from her grandfather's service, for she had disobeyed and brought the girl to a healer nonetheless, she had hugged Annabel and whispered in her ear.
"You have been stained but you haven't been spoiled. Remember it, if you ever foster revenge. Unsullied blood is a powerful tool"
A sudden jolt from the train interrupted Annabel's thoughts and just with the train's tremor, it struck her.
"Unsullied blood is a powerful tool"
—
The girl reached the castle's main door in great haste, each step chasing the next.
Suitcase in hand, she headed straight to the first floor. She could have gone to her dorm, but she assumed her friends would be there, pestering her with questions about her stay, why her parents had insisted for her to spend Easter at their place while she could have stayed in school, like them, carefree girls with functional families.
She needed to be sure before she could contemplate any further step. If the little maid had been right, she might have a plan.
Annabel reached the female toilet on the right side of the staircase, the one that was well-lit in the late afternoon for the high windows allowed the tiled room to be bathed in a warm yellow light. For what she intended to look at, the girl assumed she could use as much brightness as she could find.
With a racing heart, she opened her suitcase and fumbled inside in search of her toilet wash from which she get out a compact mirror. The girl pulled down her knickers and lifted her skirt, tucked the hem of the latter behind the elastic band when she figured she would need to use both her hands. Annabel placed one foot on the porcelain seat behind her and with fidgety fingers, she placed the mirror between her legs.
The girl winced when her private parts appeared in the mirror and for a second she looked away, until she remembered that her goal was by far more important than a slight embarrassment. She was alone in this room, who else was she trying to conceal her genitalia from? Gathering all the inner strength she could find, she spread her nether lips with two fingers, positioning the mirror in such a way that she could have a proper look at her entrance.
There.
There it was.
Her heart skipped a beat as she spotted the thin membrane that sealed her, untouched, proof of her chastity to the exception of a tiny hole that permitted the blood to flow. She closed her eyes, feeling like everything was reeling around her.
How ironic, her grandfather's words now.
She was not relieved, though. If anything, she felt a tinge of bitterness at the thought that it was mainly cowardice that had prevented her grandfather's political opponents to go all the way. Raping the grand-daughter of the president of the International Confederation of Wizards was certainly nothing someone could go around and brag about.
Annabel stood up and shoved the compact mirror in her suitcase. She pulled up her knickers and it was with a great determination that she headed to the library.
—
Not a living soul was in sight at the library for the sky had cleared, and most students were enjoying the sunny spell in the park. Annabel paused for a second as she stood in the middle of the shelves that overflowed with books, deep in thought. She had about an hour before she would join her friends for dinner. Like the true Ravenclaws they were, most of them were regular like clockwork and she knew she would not find them in the Great Hall before 19:30. It sure did leave enough time for her to start with her research.
Certainly, she would find very little about blood magic here, much less about virgin witchcraft. For one, the Ministry had ruled out such sorcery a while ago, pointing to its potential dangers. Also, and perhaps more importantly, such forms of archaic divination were far too capricious to be placed in young and inexpert hands… Besides, the teaching staff was already busy enough trying to ban the use of love potions in school, no need to encourage the students to start considering sex as a potential weapon.
Surely, Annabel would be able to find more in the Restricted Section but heading to Wingly or Slughorn now seemed a bit premature. She was a smart girl, she told herself. She would first give it a try on her own.
Annabel headed to the women's department. She read a few abstracts, glanced at a couple of indexes and peeked at numerous tables of content. Other than child-bearing and child-rearing, the section had little to offer. She walked over to the physiology alley, only to reach the same conclusion after a while. Perhaps would the historic section be more appropriate? She had heard of the Vestal Virgins, priestesses in Ancient Rome who found themselves immured or buried alive would they break their vows of celibacy. Or how about the religious one?
The clock was ticking, indicating close to 19 o'clock now and Annabel yawned while she stared at illustrations of the Virgin Mary, the woman's calm and peaceful expression being the exact opposite of her own. She knew little about Muggles' spiritual beliefs, but she had heard of the woman who had supposedly remained untouched despite carrying a child.
Her chin nested inside her palm, Annabel glanced at the sky through the arched windows. Her eyelids were drooping and she allowed her thoughts to drift. After sleepless nights at her parents' house, she found herself soothed to be back in school. She could afford to close her eyes for five minutes, she thought. Only to recharge her batteries.
And soon enough, the Ravenclaw was in the arms of Morpheus.
—
The girl sneaked in the kitchen and her silvery eyes moved to the maid who was standing with her back to her, busying herself over the stone kitchen counter. She was vigorously chopping some vegetables, her plump body moving with every move. Annabel thought she could help her with a spell, for the poor woman was bad at magic, but her attention was already drawn by the dried fruit platter that stood in the middle of the table.
Annabel had been practicing levitation for weeks, her favourite exercise being to nick whatever food was being cooked in the kitchen. It was particularly easy, for the maid always pretended not to see the child's little tricks, just like she ignored the stains that adorned Annabel's mouth afterwards.
Yet, the woman must have known she was there, for she began to recount one of her stories.
"At the beginning of time, there was only water…"
The girl peeked at the maid, and took advantage of her inattention to snap her fingers. A dried piece of ananas gently rose in the air.
"Until Ra, God of the Sun, came into being. Born just like a king, he surfaced from the sand. How majestic was the Sun God, who had come to bless the world with his light. Yet even deities are lonely, and his solitude was wiiide like the ocean. So to keep him company, the Sun God bore children"
"Shu, god of peace, and Tefnut, goddess of the rain" whispered the girl whose eyes were still fixated on the fruit that was now sluggishly moving towards her.
"That's right" said the woman and Annabel heard the maid smile, but she knew better than to avert her eyes which would inexorably lead to the failure of the spell.
"Tell me stories about Nephtys and Isis" asked the girl, to distract the woman's attention a bit longer, even though she knew the woman would look elsewhere until the girl had succeeded at her spell.
"You want to hear about strong women I see" giggled the maid, her laughter making her body quiver even more.
"Have I ever told you about Nephtys' revenge?"
Annabel shook her head, mindful not to lose sight of the fruit which was now at arm's length. She remembered she ought to talk, for the maid was not looking at her, and she responded by the negative.
"Isis and Nepthys - daughters of Geb and Nut, granddaughters of Shu and Tefnut - had two brothers, Seth and -"
"Osiris"
"That's right. Osiris, the beloved god of life, leader of Egypt. He was praised by many and ruled over mankind. Yet Osiris, had some coldness in his heart"
The pause in the woman's telling made Annabel want to turn her eyes, all absorbed she now was in the story.
"Isis and Nepthys were sisters, powerful deities who mastered witchcraft, both lovely, yet so different. Isis was as pale as Nephtys was dark and Osiris, who liked the night more than the day, courted Nephtys first, and bewitched her. He told her the sweetest poems, sang the prettiest songs but the male sex, you see, needs to rule and conquer, and Osiris wished to own Nephtys in a way no one had ever owned her before"
"Nephtys who was shy and pure at heart, refused, saying she would only give herself to him if he married her. 'Come back to me in three moons' she had said, willing to test her beloved's fervour but Osiris was proud and impatient. Vexed to having seen the woman he loved refuse herself to him, he beguiled Isis, Nephtys' sister, who gave him what Nephtys had forbid and to reward Isis for her devotion, he married Isis"
"Saying Nephtys was mad would be like calling the Nile a small stream. Her pain was so great that she planned to avenge herself"
"What did she do?" asked the girl who opened her hand, finally closing her fingers on the fruit that just landed in her palm, so entirely lost in the story that she forgot to eat it.
"She went to Seth, the chaotic god, ruler of deserts and storms, whom she knew wished to rule in place of his brother. 'Help me punish Osiris, for he is nothing but a trickster god' she had said. 'I'm a witch' she had added. 'I will give you what I promised another and that sacrifice will seal my vengeance. Your seed carries chaos and hate, give it to me and I will make sure to see Osiris fall'. So Seth married Nephtys, and she did as she had sworn but her thirst for revenge was yet to be satiated"
"Some time after her marriage, Nephtys, with her husband's assent, disguised like her sister and waited for Osiris in the marital chamber. Osiris, convinced that Nephtys was no one else but his wife, united with Nephtys, who carried in her womb the deadly seed of Seth. Such powerful source of chaos could only weaken Osiris, whom Seth struck the final blow some time later"
"And?"
"That's it"
"That's it?"
The little girl frowned.
"What's the moral of the story?" she asked, finally shoving in her mouth the dried fruit and chewing loudly.
The maid laughed.
"It's up to you to figure it out. It would be too easy otherwise wouldn't it?"
—
Annabel opened her eyes, her lashes fluttering multiple times as her limbs slowly came back to life. She stretched her legs under the wooden table before she rubbed a droopy eyelid with a knuckle. Her shoulders were covered with her jacket, which she had not remembered doing but she shrugged and glanced at her watch.
Right on time for dinner.
—
After two weeks of seclusion and silence, the hubbub of the students' conversation startled her. She spotted her friends, who waved at her with a grin from the blue and silver table.
"We missed you" confessed Sophia who hugged her before Annabel could even sit.
"How was your stay?" asked Elena who wrapped an arm around her back and kissed her cheek.
"You know. Parents" simply said the chestnut-haired girl before she poured herself some lentil soup. Her heart constricted about the lie, but she could not tell them the truth, could she?
Her thoughts began to wander, and she remembered her dream, and the little maid's words the last time she saw her.
"Unsullied blood is a powerful tool"
Surely that woman had a soft spot for riddles. Annabel got the gist, though, a maiden offering her virginity to someone, just like Nephtys did, was a potent source of magic. Yet, it was not like she had anyone she could give herself to, did she?
Of course, she could find some random boy in school. She supposed, with an assurance free of pretension, that she looked good enough to stand a chance with a few young men. If she was to 'sacrifice' her virtue to some boy in school, who would she ask?
Absentmindedly, she played with a strand of hair as she watched the Quidditch captain enter the Great Hall, dressed as usual in his sports outfit. She had not thought about him in a while. She had little doubt that he would accept bedding her, that nitwit who had the fortitude of a cockroach. When the memory of him dumping her by owl came to her mind, even though she had let him grope her more than she ever wished to, she could not help but let out a snort. Not him. Certainly not him.
Then who? Her betrothed?
Her stomach churned as she remembered the young man's lips on hers, the complete absence of desire she had felt for him that day.
Had she ever felt anything for anyone anyway? Even just a semblance longing?
Her eyes grazed the Slytherin's table in front of her to stop on Tom Riddle.
Ah, Tom Riddle.
He was listening to one of his numerous friends, his brows slightly furrowed, as always when he seemed to care about his conversation partner. Soon enough though, his attention was being interrupted by a girl who stood right behind him, tugging on his sleeve with a child-like pout.
She knew that girl, a Mary-something, a girl her age, a Ravenclaw.
With a growing lump in her throat, Annabel observed how the girl bent to whisper something in his ear, how Tom's own lips moved in response and forced a wanton smile on her face. That girl might share the Madonna's name, but she sure did look like she easily spread her thighs. She certainly did not mind being pinned against the wall…
And just like that, it struck her.
Was she jealous?
Really?
"So, I talked to the girls during the holidays and I decided that I'll have a gigantic party for my seventeenth birthday in October" said Elena, who suddenly interrupted Annabel's train of thoughts.
"Obviously I'll have to celebrate in Hogwarts, and I'll have to smuggle as much alcohol as I can, but I can count on you too to help, right?"
Annabel met Elena's glance.
"Can I… count on you?"
"Of course" replied Annabel with a forced smile, her palms now sweaty.
"Of course you can count on me"
Her eyes wandered to the Slytherin table once more and just like if her friend's fervour had given her strength, Annabel made a decision.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
She would try that sacrifice, and she would ask Tom.
She would ask him to be her first.