BEGINNING A/N: right, so i just realised and fixed all the block/coded text. sorry about that! i hope you enjoy this chapter and warning for racial slurs because people are cruel and stupid.
Chapter Summary: Ianthe has a friend in Miss. Nirmala, the Dursley's are as horrible as ever and apparently Ianthe can talk to snakes!
Chapter 2 - the snake and the vanishing glass.
"For goodness sake Isabelle, no, I am telling you, Will was down there with that little hussy - what's her name? - Nirm-something-or-the-other. Foreigners, they're taking our jobs, and they'll take your husband too if you're not careful, Lord knows, I'm stuck with one in my own house, nasty little vermin…"
These were the bases of Petunia Dursleys' day to day gossip calls, and it was for this reason that Ianthe decided Aunt Petunia must live a very boring life, filtering inane pieces of meaningless chatter about Neighbour No. 4 and Miss. Nirmala Chakrabarti (who was really nice, and always said hello to her, who kissed her head and said mashallah when she saw Ianthe's waterfall of tangled, curly hair, and gave dirty eyes to the adults that treated Ianthe like a piece of dirt, who always gave Ianthe a either a Cadbury chocolate or even a newly-invented sweet to taste-test - because she was a confectioner - and even an Indian sweet called a Jalebi that Ianthe decided was her new favourite.) and her alleged interest with her friend Isabelle's husband, Mr. William Smith (who was stuffy, and horrible, and who always laughed the loudest when Petunia and Vernon made racist jokes, who always looked at the 13 - year - old's walking home from St. Mary's Girl School with a strange look in his eyes, and who always asked why the Paki Girl was still in the house.) but Ianthe knew that was false, because Mr. Smith was a nasty man with an even nastier temper, and he was probably telling Miss. Nirmala to leave their country, but Miss. Nirmala gave as good as she got (one time, she gave a big dressing down to an old lady who called Ianthe Paki Invader (the old lady probably got it from Mr. Smith), and afterwards, when Ianthe had finished four jalabi's and working on her fifth after an hour of crying after she learned what the word meant and Miss. Nirmala letting Ianthe hug it out with her, she told Ianthe that she should be proud of who she was, her waterfall of curly raven hair, her beautiful green eyes, and even her odd abilities that sometimes manifested when she was angry (once, she turned a customer's caramel hair a horrible bogey green after she got rude to Miss. Nirmala, but Miss. Nirmala only laughed and said Well Done, making Ianthe feel all gooey inside.) Miss. Nirmala looked like she was so sad, and Ianthe realised that Miss. Nirmala probably got called nasty-names too from stupid people that were too narrow-minded and cruel, and Ianthe felt like she was about for cry because how could someone call nice Miss. Nirmala nasty names as well? And so Ianthe hugged Miss. Nirmala said, "I'm sorry they hurt you." and suddenly they were both crying and letting all the hurt out from inside.)
There was also the fact that Ianthe knew Miss. Nirmala liked the girl down the street who had hazelnut-coloured skin and great big braids with beads in them, and when Ianthe said they were pretty, she came the next day and braided Ianthe's hair for her and put in the beads, but she also always came to get her milk mishti, (Ras Malia, corrected Miss. Nirmalla) for her Sunday family dinner (but Ianthe just knew that she came to see Miss. Nirmala!) but when Ianthe told Miss. Nirmala this, she just gave a weak laugh, an embarrassed blush, and said, "You're too young to know, meri jaan. Miss. Eshe is just a very kind customer."
And so, Ianthe decided that to Aunt Petunia, whose day was spent caring for Dudley and Uncle Vernon and entertaining herself with the latest interior cuts compared Miss. Nirmala who spent the day inventing and selling sweets, spending an hour each day with Ianthe after school or even telling Ianthe stories about her home back in India, these pieces of gossip would be akin to the Holy Bible itself.
Of course, Ianthe couldn't tell her this or she'd get a knock around the head, but she thought it all the same and in the end that was what mattered.
Nevertheless, despite being a nasty little vermin , Ianthe was forced by Aunt Petunia to wake up two hours earlier, (disrupting her dream about a flying motorbike) than Dudley or Uncle Vernon and help her Aunt arrange all the presents and cook a breakfast of pancakes and chocolate milk for Duddikins
Placing the plate on the table, Ianthe let out a sigh, moving towards the sink and turning on the faucet, allowing the steady river of water to clean her hands of any excess pancake batter, the water washing it down the drain. The kitchen door creaked open, allowing a portly Uncle Vernon to make his way through the kitchen, casting a glance to Ianthe at the sink, he let out a bark of, "Brush your hair, girl." by way of a morning greeting.
A large thundering could be heard from upstairs as Dudley stomped down the stairs, a pause - and then the ritualistic thumping on the stair directly above the cupboard that Dudley did in hopes of covering Ianthe in saw dust. It never worked of course (Ianthe had learnt to rise early, one of the reasons Aunt Petunia got Ianthe to help her) but it was a pain to clean her blanket and bed sheet every night in case of the dust, as it caused Ianthe to become all itchy. Dudley burst through the door, a mop of blond hair and watery blue eyes and a rotund belly much like his father. Aunt Petunia often proclaimed that Dudley looked like an angel, whilst Ianthe would dispute that Dudley was more similar to a pig in a blond wig.
Ianthe passed a look over at the presents dispassionately the same time as Dudley, though he performed it with much more vigour, noticing that Dudley had gotten the new computer, the second television (for the kitchen, he had insisted) as well as a brand new just-on-the-market racing bike. Ianthe was at a dilemma over why Dudley wanted the racing bike when he was very fat and hated exercise - that is, unless it involved punching people, and as it so happened, Ianthe was his favourite punching bag, it was actually during these escapes from her weekly punching time that she was rescued by Miss. Nirmala, who saw Dudley and his gang chasing her, offered her entrance to her shop.
Dudley however, keen in breaking her reminiscing, had finished counting his presents and was turning an interesting shade of red as Ianthe stood to pour Uncle Vernon's coffee, before retreating to her seat and slathered an unhealthy amount of jam on her toast.
"Thirty-six," he said, mouth quivering as his grubby hands clenched together, "That's two less than last year." Ianthe sensed the temper tantrum sure to come, and set in wolfing down her toast in case he upended the table, however, despite however much Ianthe despised Aunt Petunia, it seemed they possessed the same talent of sensing when a major Dudley tantrum was about to make an appearance and was quick to reassure her son, "You haven't counted Aunt Marge's present from under Mummy and Daddy's, sweetums, but we'll still get you another two presents today, at the zoo, is that alright, popkins?"
Dudley thought for a moment, his face turning back to his usual peachy skin tone unlike Ianthe's golden-bronze or Miss. Nirmala's caramel-brown. "So that'll be thirty...thirty..." he said at last, a pensive expression on his face, Ianthe wanted to cut in, say thirty-nine , but she knew that the Dursley's would hate her showing up Dudley in anything, "Thirty-nine, darling," Aunt Petunia cut in, a warm smile on her face as she kissed Dudley's forehead as he sat down heavily in his chair, and for a quick moment Ianthe wondered if her mother would have done that, before Dudley said, "Alright then," before grabbing the nearest parcel, a mint green box wrapped in red ribbon, and ripped it up without care.
Uncle Vernon chortled, patting Dudley's back, as he set down his newspaper, "Little tyke wants his money's worth, just like his father. Atta boy, Dudley." The telephone rang as Aunt Petunia hurried away whilst Dudley was opening presents watched by a indulging Uncle Vernon and a reluctant Ianthe, who despite not wanting to, wondered why the Dursleys were so cruel as to get her to watch their son open his mountain-load of presents when she knew that she would receive one of Aunt Petunia's clothes hangers at best.
After Dudley had unwrapped the racing bike, a cine-camera, a remote-control aeroplane, sixteen new computer games and a video recorder, Aunt Petunia came back in just as Dudley was half-way through unwrapping a golden wristwatch. "Bad news, Vernon," she said, setting down a hand on her chair, "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take her." she finished, jerking her head in Ianthe's direction as the said pre-teen let out a breath of relief. Every year, without fail, Aunt Petunia would drop Ianthe off at Mrs. Figg's place, a batty old lady who lived with her cats for company and age old chocolate cake in her fridge while The Dursleys, as well as Dudley and a friend would head off someplace fun, like the cinema, hamburger bars or even adventure parks. This year was the zoo and while Ianthe supposed she should feel sympathy for Mrs. Figg, she couldn't bring herself to as it would be a whole year until she would have to look at Tibbles, Snowy, Mr. Paws and Tufty again.
"Now what?" asked Aunt Petunia, sending a furious glare Ianthe's way as if Ianthe had caused it, and she would have, in the eyes of the Dursleys'. Dudley's mouth had resorted to hanging open in horror as Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon talked over the length of the table, "We could phone Marge." suggested Uncle Vernon, but Ianthe recoiled in horror, not imagining that she would be able to take a whole day of dealing with Aunt Marge's petty whining and unwanted opinions about how useless she was and how thankful she should be to her Samaritan brother and his wife.
"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the girl, and for good reason." Aunt Petunia snapped, not noting Ianthe's sigh of relief. The Dursley's often talked about Ianthe this way, as if she wasn't there -or rather something nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug, but Ianthe was too used to it to be actually bothered. In her opinion, if they ignored each other for the rest of their lives, it would by far the best birthday present Ianthe had ever received, but unfortunately, that dream of hers wouldn't be happening anytime soon, at least, not until Ianthe was old enough to move out.
"What about what's-her-name, your friend - Yvonne?"
"On holiday in Majorca." She informed him.
"You could leave me with Miss. Nirmala." Ianthe cut in, hoping beyond hope that they would agree, a perfect trip for Dudley and Ianthe out of their hair was perfect, but what surprised Ianthe was what Petunia said next, "What, and leave you with that hussy? It's bad enough that you already spend an hour after school in her blasted shop, but leave you with her after finding out she played moves on poor Will? Ha! What would the neighbours say? Our reputation would already be in tatters." Ianthe saw red and stood up, the chair toppling over, "Miss. Nirmala is not a hussy." she hissed, "And she certainly does not make moves on stupid William Smith!"
Petunia's eyes narrowed as Vernon and Dudley watched in apprehension, wary of the situation. Despite being married together for a good many years, Vernon Dursley had rarely had many tiffs with Petunia who agreed with him on principle, but Petunia had a great many loud (and explosive) arguments with Ianthe, who, if Petunia's angry muttering were to be believed, had her mother's same explosive anger and Petunia's own vindictive streak.
"Mind your tongue, girl, you'd do best to listen to me. You don't know what's good for you, and it certainly isn't that foreigner feeding you these dangerous ideas. William Smith is a good Christian man, who has a stable job, provides for his family and goes to Church every Sunday. There is no place for the word stupid in that description, girl." Ianthe fumed, a brazen fire lit in her eyes as Petunia looked away, the sight too familiar for liking, "Vernon, you understand we can't leave her with that foreigner, yes?"
Vernon gulped and muttered a quiet, "Of course, Pet." and tried his best to ignore the blazing hellfire-lit green eyes that still had the ability to burn even after being subjected to it many times. Really, the only one who had the ability to withstand it was Petunia. Demonic really, Vernon thought, a part of being a freak but still very effective.
Petunia nodded resolutely and turned to her niece, "You're coming with us. There's no need for you to go anywhere near that hussy, you understand, girl?" Ianthe didn't deign to respond and marched out the kitchen, bending down to enter her cupboard and slam the door shut just as the doorbell rang shrilly.
Petunia tutted and made her way over to the door, exchanging greetings with Piers Polkiss' mother and ushered Dudley's friend inside. Petunia turned to them and spoke, "Dudley, why don't you and Piers watch the telly. We leave in an hour."
Piers watched her leave, her back taught and her heels making sharp clicking sounds. Piers turned over to his best friend and opened his mouth, "What, no Duddikins today?" Dudley glared moodily at him and answered, a pudgy hand coming to scratch his stomach, "Ianthe is coming with us." Ignoring Piers' fallen jaw, he continued. "Mum and Ianthe had a fight. Ianthe went all scary-eyes again, so today's gonna suck. If she explodes on us, I'm throwing you under the bus."
Piers winced, phantom pain resurfacing from the last time he tempted Ianthe when she went all scary-eyes. He had those bruises for a week, as well as nightmares to haunt him for life, "They're very… demonic, aren't they? Bit like your mum's when she found we were bullying Miss. Patricia's little girl."
"Yeah, I still wonder who her husband ran away with though, Mum wouldn't tell me. But we gotta be extra careful with Ianthe, 'kay Piers? Maybe if we're nice enough, she won't explode and use her freak powers to hurt us, right?"
"I dunno, Duds. Let's just be extra careful. Do you wanna play Rocket Cannons now though?"
Dudley nodded and made his way upstairs with Piers following behind, being extra careful on the step directly above the cupboard under the stairs.
Ianthe meanwhile reached under her pillow, bringing the treasured picture of her mum and Severus out from underneath it. The metal grate brought shuttered light onto it, illuminating the red hair and clenched hands, "Hi mum." she whispered, her eyes glowing in the dark, "I miss you. I got in an argument with Aunt Petunia again, but it was 'cause she called Miss. Nirmala a hussy! Can you believe it? ... I wonder if you ever got in fights with her," All the time, darling. "Or if you even liked her." I loved her always. "Did Severus like her? …" Certainly not. "She called Miss. Nirmala a foreigner. Would she have called dad a foreigner, if he was alive?" She would have called him not good enough for me. " … I wonder what he looked like. Aunt Petunia says I have his hair. Do you think so? Do I look like dad? Or do I look more like you?" You look like my darling daughter who I died to protect. "Did you like my dad, Sev? Or did you hate him, like Aunt Petunia? "
Sighing once again, the demonic glow near extinct now, she slipped the photo away just as the door opened. Aunt Petunia stood there stiffly, her lip curled as she looked down at her niece. "Get ready. We leave in ten minutes." before strutting away, her heels clicking. Ianthe glared and muttered angrily, pulling on a decent dress and a pair of leggings before pulling on her shoes.
Slamming her cupboard door open, she got out, following Uncle Vernon out the door as Dudley and Piers got in the car. Uncle Vernon looked like he wanted to say something and making sure Dudley and Piers were distracted, dragged her to the side of the car, and grabbed her sides painfully tight. "Listen here, girl, Petunia may have ignored that display inside with…with your freakish glowing eyes, but I won't! Any funny business - anything at all, even one slip - and you're in that cupboard until Christmas, you hear?"
Ianthe growled between clenched teeth, forcing out her answer, a deep loathing burning once again, "Nothing will happen. Honest." Vernon grunted, a disbelieving look pointed at her once again ominously lit eyes before he quickly looked away, unable to hold the burning gaze, as he let her go before turning to get into the car as Petunia hurried out the house.
It wasn't that surprising that he didn't believe her, it was just that the strangest things happened to Ianthe and she wished she knew why. From that one time she turned Miss. Nirmala's rude customer's hair bogey green, or when Aunt Petunia, frustrated at never being able to tame the jungle that was Ianthe's hair, had resorted to chopping all her hair off, making her look practically bald. Dudley had laughed himself silly, which left Ianthe in a fouler mood than ever, and resulted in his computer somehow breaking down (don't ask her) and him sending speculative glances her way for the rest of the day. She spent a sleepless night with imaginings of what everyone at school would say, she was already laughed at because of her scruffy clothes that Aunt Petunia got from the nearest Oxfam as well as her Sellotaped glasses, but paired with her hair, she'd be the laughing stock of the whole school. Of course, come next morning her hair was back to its normal waist-length mess, which resulted in a week-long stay in the cupboard despite Ianthe's protests couldn't explain how it happened (she suspected it was her odd abilities at work), but Ianthe was far too glad that she had her hair back to worry that much. Then there was that one time she was running away from Dudley's gang and then she found herself on the roof. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had received an extremely angry letter from the headmistress that Ianthe had been climbing school buildings, but Ianthe had shouted that she had only been trying to jump behind the bins, and by some miracle, they had believed her, but they did have a sort of glazed look in their eye.
But today, while Ianthe was still pissed at Aunt Petunia for calling Miss. Nirmala, a hussy, she was quite interested in the zoo. She wondered if she would spot a giraffe, so she could compare how similar Aunt Petunia and the giraffe looked side by side. Still, it wasn't every day that she went somewhere new that wasn't her cupboard, Mrs. Figg's cabbage-smelling living room, Miss. Nirmala's shop (called Chakrabarti's Delhi Delights ) or school.
While Uncle Vernon drove, he did his usual driving routine: complain. He liked to complain to Aunt Petunia, who would listen with a sympathetic ear to her darling husband. Uncle Vernon liked to complain about many things, people at work, Ianthe, the council, Ianthe, the bank and Ianthe were some of his favourite subjects. This morning, motorbikes were the focus of his ire.
"...roaring along like maniacs, the young hoodlums," he said, as a bright electric blue motorbike overtook them.
Ianthe, knowing what she said would raise her Uncle's blood pressure lounged back, "I had a dream about a motorbike." Her eyes gleaming as a smirk pulled across her mouth, "It was flying."
Uncle Vernon nearly crashed into the car in front. He turned around, throwing caution wind as he turned around in his seat and yelled, his moustache nearly flying off his face, "MOTORBIKES DON'T FLY!"
Ianthe peered back intently at him as if she was discussing the weather and not flying motorbikes, "I know they don't. It was only a dream though, so it shouldn't really matter, should it? After all, the subconscious mind conjures up the oddest things, doesn't it?" Uncle Vernon bristled, the green eyes daring him to contradict her. "No." He said at last. "No, it doesn't matter. And we'll speak of it no more, bah! Flying motorbikes, who would've believed the thought? Girls got an active imagination, aren't I right Petunia?"
Petunia nodded, lips pursed as the traffic started again and Piers and Dudley continued their conversation as if nothing had happened.
Ianthe however, looked out the window, not even trying to fit in the picture of pretend normalcy. If they hated Ianthe asking questions, a key example being of when Ianthe had first asked how she had got the lightning scar on her collar and Petunia had glared and said, "In the car crash when you parents died. And don't ask questions!" She had snapped, returning back to her knitting (though Ianthe had wondered how the cut glass could have gotten to her collarbone), then the Dursleys absolutely detested Ianthe talking about something acting as it shouldn't - even if it were a dream or cartoon. They seemed to think that she would get dangerous ideas.
Really, the only reason Uncle Vernon had left it at that was because he was trying to bring a sense of normalcy back; a normalcy where Ianthe was subject to the Dursleys drivel and they lorded over her.
It was a very sunny Sunday, and the zoo was packed when they arrived. The children laughed form inside and the Dursley's seemed to get their vigour back, Dudley shoving Ianthe out of the way as he hurried to choose his ice cream. Aunt Petunia, as always, brightened up when she saw Dudley enjoying his ice cream so much, cooing over him as Uncle Vernon set about letting Piers decide what ice cream he wanted and buying him one as well. They didn't have time to hurry Ianthe away as the smiling blonde-haired, blue-eyed lady in the ice cream van asked what Ianthe wanted. Ianthe told her a quiet but earnest "Thank you," as Uncle Vernon glared at her and bought a cheap lemon ice lolly, and truthfully it wasn't that bad.
They walked around the zoo for a bit, and Ianthe was right in her assumption that Aunt Petunia looked remarkably like the giraffe that towered over them. She also spotted a gorilla that looked a lot like Dudley, only the gorilla wasn't blonde and instead a dark black, like the colour of Severus' long draping hair.
Ianthe had a very interesting and enjoyable morning, if she ignored the Dursley's presence, and she did. She walked a little ways off from them, wary of the not-so-surreptitious looks that Dudley and Piers had kept sending her after they had spotted her glowing eyes dimming as she enjoyed the day. She hoped they wouldn't resort to chasing her again. They ate in the zoo restaurant, a place filled with plastic animals and dark green wallpaper, and when Dudley had a tantrum about his Knickerbocker Glory not being big enough; Ianthe had been allowed to eat his old one as he gorged on the new twice the original size served by a nervous waitress.
Ianthe should have known it was too good to last.
After lunch, as it was inevitable, Ianthe was forced to make her way towards the reptile house. It was cool and dark in her, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind fortified glass, were all types of reptilians, different species of both lizards and snakes roaming and crawling around on pieces of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers had wanted to find huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. However, once they had finally found the most venomous snake in the reptile house, which was big enough to wrap its body around Uncle Vernon, they realised it was in fact fast asleep, and bathing in the sunlight from the windows above its enclosure.
Dudley stared avidly with his nose pressed against the glass at its great, green and brown coils glistened as it lounged on a large piece of wood. Wood chips were littered around it as it bathed in the sunlight, seemingly unbeknownst to Dudley's whining.
"Make it move." he whined, at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped against the glass with his knuckle, but the snake dozed on. "Do it again." Dudley demanded, and once again, Uncle Vernon, wrapped smartly against the glass, but the snake didn't even budge.
Dudley scuffed his shoe against the enclosure, let out a whinging, "I'm bored." and shuffled on, Piers and his parents following behind him like lap dogs as Ianthe shook her head in disgust before turning back to the snake. Ianthe wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself, no company except stupid people drumming their fingers against the glass, much like Aunt Petunia drumming her knuckles against Ianthe's cupboard every day.
Ianthe stared intently at the snake, noticing its dark green scales and the rare flecks of brown against its skin. As if it realised her burning stare, its eyes flicked open, the snake's eyes a burning red. It stared intently at Ianthe, raising its head to be at Ianthe's eye level. Opening its mouth, it let out a long, protruding hiss, "Greetingsssss, Hatchling." she hissed, eyes calm as Ianthe swerved her head around both sides, to see if anyone else had seen, which it appeared to be that they hadn't. Ianthe leaned forward eagerly, her gaze burning at the new discovery, "You can talk?" The snake let out a hissing laugh, "Only to you. And my Masssssster. Thossssse who ssssspeak the Ancient Ssssserpent Tongue. Parssssseltongue, the outsssssiderssss call it."
Ianthe's mouth opened again, "Outsssssidersssss?" The snake nodded, "Outssssssidersssss." she reaffirmed, "Non-ssssspeakers. The ignorant, the unworthy, the Mugglesssss." Ianthe grinned and asked another question, "What are the Mugglesssss?" The snake instead leaned and slithered forward, coming close to the glass as she gazed at Ianthe, it felt as if she was searching her soul for something, something specific. "What isss your title?" the reptile said instead, "What doessss your nesssst call you?"
Ianthe felt a burning in her scar, and her hand came up to rub her collarbone, trying to soothe the pain, and Ianthe felt as if the snake was greatly satisfied. " Ianthe. Though my nessssst issss full of fanglesssss sssssnakes, who are content to live off of my hunting and call me girl and freak." she murmured, eyes unnecessarily heavy as she gazed back at the snake, feeling as if they had an unidentifiable connection.
The snake hissed angrily, "Ssssspinelessss nesssstmatessss, you have. Living off the kill of a Hatchling. Your name, it means Violet Coloured Flower. A sssssstrong name. Named after a colour of royalty and the colour of dreamsssss. You will be powerful, Hatchling."
Ianthe let out an aggressive hiss, unbeknownst to anyone but her and the snake. "Of courssssssse I will. There issssss no doubt of that, I will ssssstrive and conquer all, and lay wassssssste to my fanglessssss nessssstmatessss. But, I wonder what your n... title issssss, then?"
The snake let out an amused laugh, "Temper, must be controlled, Hatchling. Ssssso much like my Massssster when he wasssssss a Hatchling, though, to me, he sssssstill isssssss. You do well in already talking like a mighty sssssserpent. But fine, if you ssssso demand it, I will tell you my title. My Masssssster callsssss me -" But they were interrupted by a deafening shout, startling them both, "DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"
Dudley waddled (much like a penguin, Ianthe thought) as fast as he could, which wasn't very fast at all. "Out of the way, you," he said, punching Ianthe in the ribs, which sent the snake into a great hissing fit once she saw Ianthe lying abruptly on the floor.
What happened next was a blur, one moment Dudley and Piers stood nose-to-glass and the next, a blinding fury overcame Ianthe because couldn't they see that they were agitating the snake, which was hissing threats of bodily harm and interesting ways of mutilation? One moment was all it took, before Piers and Dudley were falling over into the enclosure at the sudden disappearance of the glass and the 12 foot snake was already uncoiling itself rapidly.
Ianthe gasped and rocketed upwards as the snake, revelling in the mayhem, let out great hissy laughs. Nipping at a nearby child's ankle that screamed in terror and burst into tears and ran towards any which way, the snake turned Ianthe's way, leaning forward, "Thank you, Hatchling. I am extremely pleassssed. I have not had thisssss much fun ssssssince the raidssss, or sssssince I got to eat my Masssssster'sssss filthy followerssssss. But you were right, your nessssstmate was cowardly, and fanglessssss, pussssshing you out of the way to come closssssser to me. Ha! He did not realissssse he only came clossssser to the beassssst that I am. You avenged yoursssself beautifully, I am proud, but I will take my leave. My Massssster no doubt waitsssss for my return, after all, I have been gone a great many weekssssss. Sssssstupid Mugglesssss keeping me in that glasssss cage."
Ianthe groped for the words so far out of reach, "Wait!" she hissed, "Tell me," Ianthe demanded, "What issss it that your Massssster callssssss you? "
The snake turned her head, luminous red eyes staring back at Ianthe's glowing demonic green eyes, her beautiful scales glittering viscerally in the sunlight, colours of great deep green and rich brown lighting up.
"…Nagini." she said at last, leaving the reptile house at last as time seemed to resume around themselves as people bolted for the exits and a stunned Ianthe was left in Nagini's wake.
The keeper rushed out and kept muttering disbelievingly, "The glass, where did it go?"
After that debacle, the zoo director himself brewed a cup of strong sweet tea for Aunt Petunia while he apologised over and over, probably hoping that Uncle Vernon didn't sue him for all the damage inflicted emotionally and physically, as well as all the other people who had been present. Pier and Dudley could only gibber, but to Ianthe this was a whole adventure. She was trying not to grin as Dudley blubbered to Aunt Petunia. It seemed to Ianthe that they were all greatly exaggerating, as Nagini seemed to only be nipping playfully at the passer-by's ankles at worst.
But, by the time they made their way back to Uncle Vernon's car, which had somehow sustained multiple scratches and was even a little dented (probably courtesy of Nagini, something Ianthe revelled in), Dudley was telling them about how Nagini had almost bitten his leg off (which she probably would have done, if she had the time, seeing as she had said she had eaten full grown men before) , while Piers swore that Nagini tried to squeeze him to death (which was silly, seeing as if Nagini wanted to eat Piers, and Ianthe didn't know anyone who would, Nagini would just inject venom into him.) But worst of all, in Ianthe's opinion, was when Piers managed to calm down enough to say, "Ianthe was talking to it, weren't you, Ianthe?"
Uncle Vernon had waited until Piers was safely out of the house before he started on Ianthe. He gazed at her for a moment before turning around, and Petunia trailing him, took a swig of brandy straight from the bottle. Realising it was going to be one of those nights, though they were far in between, Ianthe retreated to her cupboard and tried her best to fall asleep, despite the prickling reminder that a drunk Uncle Vernon was bad news.
Willing the door locked with all her might, she heard the gratifying click and tried to sleep… not soundly, but at least better know that there was a door between her and the inevitable breaking of objects.
It was during these times that Ianthe was glad that Aunt Petunia hated alcohol.
Many unknown hours later, while Ianthe lay awake, her stomach rumbled, but Ianthe did not dare and try to open the door in case Aunt Petunia was still awake. Ianthe could count on Uncle Vernon and Dudley to be out like lights, but Aunt Petunia stayed awake later during stressful days.
Ianthe had lived with the Dursley's for ten long, miserable and tortuous years. Always forced to be pinched and prodded by Dudley, be lorded over by Aunt Petunia and commandeered about like an unwanted pet by Uncle Vernon, she had always been forced to deal with their inadequacy and her only salvation had been the friend she had found in Miss. Nirmala.
Yet, despite soon turning eleven, never once in Ianthe's life had she remembered any memories from the car crash. She supposed she could've been too young to remember, but that didn't explain why, when she strained her memories during long hours locked in the cupboard, she recalled a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light, a burning pain in her collarbone scar and a distant echo of a cold and cruel laugh. She supposed the green could have been the crash (however improbable), but she didn't understand why her scar always burned or where that cruel and cold laugh came from, for the life of her (after all, who laughed when they were about to die?)
Without that photo album Ianthe had found in Dudley's second bedroom, she probably never would have known that her mother had beautiful red locks or that Ianthe had the same eyes as her. She wouldn't have known about Severus, her mother's best friend, and someone Ianthe planned to meet someday so that she could find out more about her mother and maybe even her dad, providing Severus was still alive. She would scour the world to find him, if that was what it took. And yet, Ianthe did not have a single picture of her father, a picture of both her parents together, happy , or a picture of even her mother as an adult or Severus or her dad, whose only physical trait Ianthe knew about was that she had his hair.
Yet, Ianthe liked to believe that he loved her mother and herself unconditionally, (Of course.) that he would've died to protect them, (I did.) and that he was proud of her. (Forever and ever, Prongslet.)
When Ianthe was younger, she had hoped that some unknown relation would come and whisk her away, but as the years progressed, she lost hope of that happening. Yet sometimes, Ianthe sometimes thought (or maybe hoped in her heart of hearts) that people on the streets knew her. Very strange ones too.
A tiny man in a violet top hat had bowed to her once while she had been out shopping with her Aunt and Dudley, and after furiously questioning Ianthe if she knew the man; Aunt Petunia had whisked them out the shop without buying anything. One time, a wild looking woman had waved merrily to them on the bus and a bald man in a long purple coat had actually shaken Ianthe's hand on the bus, leaving her bewildered, and then he had walked away without a word. The strangest thing about these people though, was that when Ianthe tried to get a closer look they all seemed to vanish without a trace.
At school, no one wanted to be associated with oddball Ianthe Lily Potter, with her baggy clothes, sellotaped glasses, messy, waist-length mop of curly hair and demonic green eyes, because they all knew Dudley and his gang hated her, and no one wanted to be on his gang's bad side.
Ianthe was okay with that, though it did get a little lonely sometimes, yet sometimes Ianthe felt like that there was more out there than she could possibly conceive, something bigger and waiting to be realised, and that she felt she was at the centre of it all.
END A/N: NAGINI HAS MADE AN APPEARANCE!
i fucking love that snake. just leaving pure terror and mayhem in her wake, like you do. i was really excited with her appearance, and hope you all are too. also, because i said she has red eyes, it doesn't mean voldie (who is not Tom) is watching through her eyes, i just think that as a horcrux they would have some, if any, similar physical features. so for Nagini, it was her eyes.
for translations for the italic foreign words here they are:
Mashallah: what god has willed, by Allah's (God's) grace.
Jalebi: a sticky South Asian pastry/sweet that's fried in oil.
Paki: a racial slur in Britain towards those of South Asian descent (India, Pakistan and Bangladesh.)
Mishti: the general term for sweet in /
Ras Malia: a mishti that is bathed in milk with either pistachio or almond nuts (I prefer almonds).
Meri jaan: can mean 'my life.' Or 'my heart/love', but in this context, it means 'my darling.'
as a desi myself, i absolutely love ras malia, is it goodness all around! jalebi I like, but definitely wouldn't be able to eat five in one go like Ianthe as most mishti's are all very concentrated in sugar and sometimes leave me unable to stomach even a forkful of them. jalebi is more crunchy and sweet than purely sugar. ras malia has a subtle sweetness, which paired with the milk, i love.
also, you are no way telling me that people didn't sue the zoo.
any who, i hope you enjoyed this chapter, which I slaved over during the weekend and which was not beta-ed. i hope I did good though. Also, don't go spouting racial slurs anytime soon like stupid William Smith as he's a bigoted arsehole. we all need to stick together in times like these.
ALSO, ELEVEN PAGES OF WRITING.
BUT ANYWAY, hope you all have a brilliant day!
- InkwardSpots