Chapter 100
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Rebekah was dressed in loose Muggle running shorts and a black sports bra with her robe thrown over her shoulders to keep the sun off of her back and shoulders. She had on black circle sunglasses as her CAPTAIN badge shone in the sunlight.
None of them dared question why she had a dark snake tattoo around her right thigh, mostly because she had already spread the rumour that she would hex and curse the first person that asked about it.
"Right," She addressed the group of students before her in the September heat, "If you're not Slytherin, off the pitch. Everyone is required to do a lap around the field. Divide into groups of ten by yourselves and then you're off."
It was strange to think that her own friends had to try out to stay on the team.
Rebekah was going to remain as Seeker, and Draco was dropping out of Quidditch to focus on his other tasks. He had too much to do to include Quidditch, he was barely doing his Prefect duties as it was but Snape let him off because he already knew.
Tracey, Blaise and Theo were there, standing as the oldest besides for Rebekah as many of the Seventh years were not bothering. They stood to the side of everyone, also a little behind them. Rebekah was the only one still on the Quidditch team from last year, many stopped playing because they had their NEWTs to focus on so she didn't blame them.
On the edge of the pitch, the rest of the Crown sat doing either work or whatever else their teachers gave them already to do.
Having the applicants do a lap was a great idea, weeding out the weak quickly.
After two hours, many complaints, and several tantrums, one involving a crashed Comet Two Sixty and several broken teeth, Rebekah found herself three Chasers: two new people from the year below, Urquhart and Vaisey, and Blaise. Replacing the old beaters from last year were Harper from two years below and Tracey. The Keeper position went to Theo while Logan cheered him on from the benches.
"That's my final decision," She said. "And if you're not happy, well, I don't care."
Regardless of her other responsibilities, she wasn't going to allow Slytherin's reputation of being the best at Quidditch to fall and break.
Reputations were a serious matter.
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As the weeks went on, the teachers expected more from the Sixth year students and that meant the Court was meeting up to practise Non-Verbal spells. It was a tiring affair for the Crown, and even more so for Rebekah who had to watch her friends split in fear of being associated with her.
They had all discussed it beforehand, planning it so it looked like to the outsiders that they slowly stopped being friends and became enemies.
Draco, Pansy and Theo couldn't be with her anymore, and that meant Astoria and Logan couldn't either. Daphne was starting to stray too, leaving Blaise, Tracey and Rebekah together.
In public, they were split, but in private, they were as close as ever.
As the weeks went from September, into October and soon into November, the Crown made plans and plots as the Hogsmeade weekend came.
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Tom Riddle just stared at her, eyes dark as he tried to figure something out but he wasn't going to expose just what he was thinking. He leaned onto one side of his high back chair, one hand cupping his chin as he just stared and the fire crackled before them.
She sat on the other chair, legs curled up on the seat with a sketchbook on one arm of the chair. She didn't pay attention to him, not any more than was needed as the black charcoal pencil worked across the page.
Tom noticed that, while her skirt was long and went down well past her knees, a long slit up the right thigh showed off a beautiful tattoo of a long snake. It wrapped around her thigh, details so well done that it looked like a snake had been flattened into her skin instead of simply drawn. She wore a black, spaghetti strap tank top that showed off her shoulders, collarbone and a portion of her cleavage.
Her scar was pale, paler than it was the first time they had met, and slightly faded in places but the edges seemed to become more jagged with time.
Her hair once again passed her bust, curling downwards with waves in a shade of either dark fire or the colour of sticky blood, not quite fresh but not quite dried. She had a middle part with strands that seemed to prefer to be in her face so she pulled her hair into a bun or a ponytail to keep it out of her way.
Her eyes were the shade of electric emeralds, too unnatural to be human yet fit the same shade as the killing curse. Perhaps the curse had changed her more than any knew. Black liner sharper than anything he had ever seen were accenting her eyes, lashes curled upwards as a dark grey was in her crease. She kept a natural lip but she wore lip balm to keep them soft.
Inch long nails clutched the pencil, all black in colour with the shiniest of stones. They were coffin-shaped and she wore them like a predator did claws, showing them off whenever to hunt or threaten.
Rebekah was sixteen, yet she was not.
Her Time Turning forced her mental ageing beyond years of her friends, letting her get wiser quicker with experiences of multiple situations. She had a couple more years on her friends, older than she should be but she didn't care.
Tom Riddle thought she was like Hekate, the mother of Witches and Witchcraft and Magic.
Maiden, Mother, and Crone all in one form.
Power seeped from Rebekah in small tendrils, her aura curling around her in protection.
As Tom split his soul, he began to see things mortals normally couldn't.
At the physical age of sixteen, and perhaps the mental age of who even knows anymore, her own soul was split in two. It was cracked jaggedly down the centre, carving a new path of power that could be used to her advantage.
Umbdrige's death didn't sever her soul in half, it had to be a Magical means of death and intent for it to split. Charlotte Travers' death did it, carving a line down the middle that would forever make the Witch before him more powerful than many he had ever seen before.
He knew this Witch would be dangerous to his alternate self, but he was not him yet, and so he helped her as needed. He was inside of her mind, part of the piece of Voldemort's soul she still hadn't realised she had.
He wouldn't tell her lest she try and get rid of him.
Whenever a larger crackle came from the fire, she would look up from her sketchbook and smile faintly, barely a curl of the lips to show she was content with what was happening.
Her eyes would flash an unnatural purple as the fire caught her eyes, while his would become red.
Instead of the pure green her eyes used to be when they both first began to converse, there were tiny specks of purple and gold in her eyes. They were barely noticeable and could only be found when she wasn't paying attention.
"What are you drawing?" He asked carefully, watching her expression as she paused.
She lifted her pencil from the paper, looking at it for a second before resuming. "A Snitch."
"Golden Snitch from Quidditch?"
"Silver," She said. "I'm not a fan of gold."
"Why are you drawing a Snitch of all things?"
"Well, I was thinking of getting it as a tattoo when I'm Of-Age,"
"But you already have a tattoo," He glanced down to the snake on her thigh.
She traced the head of the snack, the bit where it covered the top scar. "This one has a purpose. I use it as a way to transport Fidele, and it hides scars I don't like."
"I presume my alternate self put them there?"
"Yes. I can't get rid of them," She said, plainly. "It was a branding spell, usually used on criminals in medieval times. Voldemort carved this into my skin with the precision of a surgeon, I am inclined to return the favour when it comes to it."
He watched how the corners of her lips curled upwards into a smile, one that promised pain and a little bit of agony and a lot of everything else. Revenge was sweet like honey and bitter like a woman's want for justice.
"He will get what he deserves," Tom said, his eyes flickering between hers as he tried to figure her out like a puzzle but never getting close. "I don't doubt it."
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On the day of the Hogsmeade trip, Filch stood at the oak doors of the front of the castle, checking off the names of every person who had permission to go into Hogsmeade. In his hand was a Secrecy Sensor, allowing him to triple check everyone as they left.
Draco, Theo, Logan and Pansy were out in Hogsmeade a while before Rebekah and Blaise. The other three girls didn't go this time, making an alibi.
Rebekah sat alone at a table with Emperor sitting in her lap as the feline curled around her hand as the kitten sized napped. Blaise came back with two Butterbeers, sitting down across from her.
"They here?" He asked, referring to their other friends.
She sipped at the Butterbeer, putting it down as she nodded. "Corner nearest the bar and bathroom."
"Have you chosen someone?"
"Yes," She said reluctantly. "I've already told Draco and gave him the necklace. Rosmerta has it now. We'll finish our Butterbeers before going to the Weeping Willow. I want to check on Tatia and the other Thestrals. Tercet has been behaving badly recently, the Centaurs told me."
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Rebekah turned her back to the Weeping Willow as Tatia stood next to her as she fed some of the other Thestrals with raw meat with Blaise. Emperor played with tercet, both huge and made noise as they rolled around in the cold.
They heard screams soon after, letting their eyes trail over to the path that came over a hill. Katie Bell floated into the air, arms spread as though she was going to fly but a horrific scream came from her as pain rippled through her.
"Don't you feel bad?" Blaise asked, feeding another Thestral a piece of raw and bloody meat.
"No," Rebekah just watched as a scene was made around them, Hagrid coming over to Katie and her friend and finding the opal necklace. "Casualties of war cannot be avoided."
Katie's screams echoed over the hills but Rebekah turned back to Tatia, scratching her bony head with a soft smile before feeding her more meat.
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