1991 (First-year)
The eleven year old paced impatiently, glancing out over the Black Lake every few minutes.
"Pacing isn't going to get them here any sooner, Ariana"
The young girl turned to see her Aunt Minerva walking towards her, with a scroll of parchment in her hand bearing the names of the new first-years, including hers. Seeing her aunt's stern expression, she summoned herself a chair and sat. She had lived in Hogwarts for most of her life and finally she'd be a real student here. She was so excited she would barely contain it. I wonder which House I will be sorted to, she wondered.
Minerva McGonagall watched her young ward who was trying her hardest not to fidget and resorting to mildly tapping her foot instead. The girl was a handful, incredibly cheeky with a knack for pushing people's buttons just for kicks. She rued the day that Ariana would begin her lessons in Hogwarts, foreseeing the amount of mischief and trouble she would cause. The past eleven years seemed to have flown by; she still remembered holding Ariana for the first time in her arms like it was yesterday.
After Marceau had fled Hogwarts that night, Dumbledore had seen it fit to have the child raised outside the castle despite her protests. He had known Allard and Elise Montaine for years since their migration from Europe and the wizarding couple had been more than happy to take Ariana in as they did not have children of their own. Although they were not in direct contact with the child, Dumbledore ensured that the Order would keep a close eye on her. However, eight years later tragedy struck as the Grindelwalds had come across knowledge of her whereabouts. The other members of the Order and Dumbledore himself had been alerted and the child was retrieved in time but the Montaines had already been murdered by then. Minerva herself had taken the girl under her wing and with Dumbledore's help, raised her in Hogwarts thereon.
True to her lineage, the child had flourished both in beauty and magical aptitude. She looked very much like her half-Veela father though her silvery-blonde hair was a little more gold and her eyes were of striking amber inherited from her mother. She also proved to be exceptionally intelligent and inquisitive, devouring library books since she had learnt to read at the tender age of four.
Though underage wandless magic was not uncommon, few children had control over their abilities. Ariana however, had been able to attain some semblance of control over her magic and though untrained in any proper spells, her knowledge of the incantations and their wand movements from the books she read was remarkable. Be that as it may, this control faltered when she was riled. Her guardians were well aware of her tempestuous disposition and so kept a close eye on her, for fear she may one day become lost in her own emotions and drawn in by the lure of the Dark Arts - but they spared her little expense to anything else. She also played mock-Quidditch to pass the time with her Aunt Minerva and Madam Hooch over the holidays, having received her first broomstick on her tenth birthday – the same day she had been told about her true ancestry.
~ Flashback
"Admittedly, it was I who granted you your given name, Ariana, after someone very dear to me. However, your true name is Grindelwald. Your great-grandfather was Gellert Grindelwald. It was sometime in the early 1900s I believe that one of his many conquests bore him a son, Marlon Grindelwald, your grandfather. You were born to his half-Veela son, Edmonde Grindelwald and Helene Marceau, a witch of French descent whom I myself have met sometime after I became Headmaster - she sought my tutelage and became an assistant of sorts here in Hogwarts"
"I've read about Gellert Grindelwald - considered one of the most dangerous Dark Wizards of all time, many believed him to be the greatest and most powerful Dark Wizard in history, second only to Voldemort. It says you fought him and won and he's been imprisoned since"
"Oh, so you know about Grindelwald" he said, sounding quite delighted at her notable knowledge.
"So if my parents, grandfather and great-grandfather are bad people, am I a bad person too?"
"No one is truly born evil, my dear, not really. They are simply people who have made the wrong choices. And it is our choices that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities or where we come from. No one can make you to do or be someone you do not wish to be. Do you wish to be a bad person, Ariana?" he asked, at which the young girl shook her head quickly.
"Upon your birth, your mother spirited you away and brought you here to protect you from your father and grandfather's influence. She was a bright young witch when I met her, but became corrupted by the Dark Arts later on after she met your father in Europe. I believe, however, that she showed remorse in her later years and sought to make amends in her own way, through you. She wished a better life for you and cared for you, in as much capacity as she could"
"Did she ever come back to visit me after that?"
"No. In return for your safety, she granted us precious knowledge of several hideouts but by the time the Aurors arrived there was no trace of the Grindelwalds or your mother. That was the last I saw or heard of her. She was already very weak from childbirth and the Grindelwalds are not the most forgiving of people, you understand. Depriving them of their only heir, well, such treachery would not have been tolerated"
"And those nightmares I have always had after the attack? They weren't regular psychopathic Dark Wizards then were they?" The adolescent girl appeared contemplative for a long moment. She had always had nightmares, for as long as she could remember – the blood, the screaming, the cold-blooded laughter of her parents' murderer and the way the light had left their eyes. They had had to give her Sleeping Draught for months after their death. Sometimes her nightmares were so vivid that she'd wake up screaming and trembling, always finding her Aunt Minerva sitting worriedly by her bedside.
"They'll come for me again, won't they? My father and grandfather?"
"The Order apprehended your grandfather the night your parents died but I'm afraid your father is very much still at large. So, yes I'm afraid he will return for you someday. And that is why you must be ready when he does" he replied gravely.
"But what can I do? I'm just a girl"
"Their blood runs in your veins, you have great potential in you, my dear. You can be as skilled as either of them or even more so. Potential that if used for good, could do wonders we can only imagine"
~ End of flashback
…
I stood in the Entrance Hall amongst the other first-years, waiting to be led into the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony.
"How exactly do they sort us into Houses?" I heard someone ask.
"Some sort of test I think, Fred was going on about wrestling a troll" his companion replied. I chuckled to myself imagining how Aunt Minerva would throw a fit if we actually had trolls here. I turned to see a freckled red-haired boy and a bespectacled one standing behind me, the latter of which I recognised.
"Oh, hi Harry" I said, turning and smiling at them.
"You know her?" the ginger murmured, well, sort of – he was loud enough that even I heard him.
"Yea, we sort of met at Diagon Alley while getting our school supplies" Harry replied.
~ Flashback
Harry exited Madam Malkins' robe shop feeling rather disturbed by his encounter with the pale boy he had met there. As he approached, he saw that Hagrid was no longer alone. He was speaking to a rather severe-looking woman dressed in dark green robes and a pointy hat who was accompanied by a young girl about his age.
"No Professor, I'd be happy to take this ere' Ari with us, won't let 'er out of my sights"
"Thank you, Hagrid. You will see her back to the castle as well, won't you?"
"O' course, walk 'er right up to yer office meself"
The woman seemed satisfied with his reply and vanished so quickly he had to rub his eyes just to be sure he wasn't imagining things.
"You must be Harry Potter. I'm Ariana Montaine, it's nice to finally meet you" the girl said cheerily, extending her hand to him.
"Hello" he replied politely, blushing slightly under her golden gaze. She was very pretty, with light golden blonde hair that fell almost to her waist, fair skinned though her cheeks were tinged pink from the outdoors and a winsome smile showing off white, even teeth. There was an air of natural grace and charm about her, he couldn't quite explain but it felt like it radiated from her very being.
"I hope you don't mind if I join you for a bit, Professor McGonagall was supposed to take me to get my wand but she had something urgent to attend to all of a sudden. I don't know if we'll be in the same House, but I do hope we can be friends. You're the first student I've met from my year actually"
"Yea, that'd be nice I suppose, I don't really know anyone myself. You said something about a house?"
"We best be gettin' along now" Hagrid said, interrupting the two younger ones and urging them ahead of him towards Ollivanders.
…
She clutched her small purse in anticipation watching as the wand in Harry's hand shot a stream of red and gold sparks - Aunt Minerva had helped her make a withdrawal from Gringotts earlier where her adopted parents had left her a sizable inheritance. She could hardly wait to get her wand.
"Now, I may not have had the pleasure of selling your parents their first wands, but let's see what we can do for you, Ms Grind…" Mr Ollivander started as she stiffened perceptibly and Hagrid cleared his throat rather loudly. The wandmaker seemed to catch himself mid-sentence, "… Ms Montaine" he finished albeit awkwardly.
Her heritage was a well-kept secret, only known to members of the Order so how the wandmaker had known was a mystery, but then again he was always mysteriously perceptive to such things. He peered at her for a moment, not unkindly and repeated as he had done with Harry – taking measurements and taking down wand boxes from his shelves.
He handed her a wand - elm and dragon heartstring ten inches long. Before she could even wave it, the wandmaker had already taken it out of her hands and went back to searching his shelves. This went on for quite a bit until she lost count - ash, beech, fir, hawthorn, hazel, walnut, the list went on, combinations of different woods and cores and still she had not found hers. Her pile of tried wands had grown steadily but Mr Ollivander was as enthusiastic as ever if not more so.
"Two tricky customers in the same day" he beamed happily like someone had given him a real treat.
After trying two more wands, he handed her an eleven inch phoenix feather wand made of yew. It had barely skimmed her fingertips when the air around her grew warm, sending chills up her arm and miniscule golden orbs of light floated gracefully from its tip. Mr Ollivander nodded satisfactorily.
The young girl however, had gone quite pale for she clearly knew who shared the same wand wood and core. He seemed to notice and the wandmaker offered her a reassuring smile. "Contrary to what most may believe, a yew wand does not always choose those associated with the Dark Arts despite its most notorious owner, simply traits you may share - independence, intelligence, charisma, a natural ability to lead and inspire. As I've told Mr Potter, You-Know-Who did many terrible things but great nonetheless and I reckon we can expect spectacular things from you too, Ms Montaine. A yew wand never chooses a mediocre owner after all"
~ End of flashback
"Ariana Montaine, pleased to meet you" I introduced myself, offering my hand to the redhead.
"Er… Ronald… Ron Weasley" he shook my hand timidly without looking me in the eyes, his ears turning red in the process.
"I couldn't help overhearing. There aren't any trolls involved if that's what you're going on about. First-years couldn't possibly take down a fully grown troll. The Sorting is pretty simple, really, it doesn't require any use of magic. I've heard about the Sorting so I know what to expect. I could tell you if you'd like"
The two boys visibly sighed with relief as the tension left their bodies. A few of the other first-years appeared to have overheard me as well as they shuffled a little closer, hoping to find out more about the Sorting too. "Well, let's hear it then" Ron said.
"Our names are called alphabetically and we have to go on up there and put on the Sorting Hat. It's enchanted of course, it speaks to you and interprets your thoughts, handy bit of magic really, Legilimency. Taking all that into account, it considers which House you are most suited for and announces it to everyone"
Aunt Minerva started calling our names just then and we watched as one after another the first-years were sorted into their Houses.
"There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin" I heard Ron say after a 'Malfoy, Draco' was sorted into Slytherin before the hat even skimmed his head.
"They can't all be bad. There were great wizards who were Slytherins too, I read somewhere that Merlin himself was rumoured to be one" I chided, watching Ron turn slightly pink with embarrassment. It wasn't fair to stereotype each House simply because some students were far from exemplary.
"Montaine, Ariana"
I gingerly stepped up towards the stool and Aunt Minerva, well, Professor McGonagall now that I was a student too, flashed me the briefest of smiles before placing the Sorting Hat on my head.
"Hmm… Interesting. Intelligent, very intelligent… I see wisdom beyond your years. And talent, oh yes, potential for greatness runs deep… Rebellious, and daring too I see" the Sorting Hat muttered by my ear. "Fiercely loyal, determined and oh, incredibly cunning when needed and manipulate situations to your advantage…" It remained silent for a moment, making only occasional sounds like it was musing to itself. "Right, hmm… plenty of creativity there, much desires to be different and prove others wrong".
Why is it taking so long? Is there something wrong with me?, I thought as I glanced up at Aunt Minerva uneasily just in time to see her checking the clock. A murmur was rippling through the crowd by now as the Sorting Hat continued contemplating.
"A difficult one you are indeed. Very interesting… I haven't seen one like you in the longest time. You could do great in any House, extraordinary, yes… But where to put you…"
I knew all the prized traits and qualities of each House by heart. I did not doubt that I would've been sorted to Slytherin in a heartbeat if I had been raised by my birth family. But perhaps it was the influence of my adoptive parents, Aunt Minerva or even Uncle Albus that I was now sitting on this stool for almost four minutes by my count. A part of me yearned to be sorted to Gryffindor, my guardian was the Head of the House after all, but another part of me argued over this sentimental reasoning.
"Where I am most needed" I finally murmured.
"Most needed, eh? Hmm… yes… wise indeed, like any Ravenclaw. Tricky, very tricky, yes… Well then, it's got to be… SLYTHERIN!" the Sorting Hat shouted. The Slytherin table erupted with claps and cheers.
I stole a glance at Aunt Minerva just in time to see her mask her surprise with her usual sombre expression. Another glance at Uncle Albus to find he was stroking his beard contemplatively, his eyes twinkling as always when he caught mine and smiled gently. I spotted Harry and Ron whispering fiercely to each other as I made my way over to the Slytherin table.
Great, so much for being friends – doubt they'd want to be chummy with me now that I'm a Slytherin. What have I gotten myself into?
Most of the Slytherin boys were nudging each other and trying to scoot over to make space for me on the table. I was well aware of the effect I had, having read further on the Veela kind once I had learned of my heritage. I rolled my eyes not impressed in the slightest by their antics and intentionally walked right past them.
I was about to join a group of girls when my wrist was abruptly grabbed. With a sharp yank, I found myself seated next to a platinum blonde boy just as the Bloody Baron ghost floated past us. I scowled at him, ready to give him an earful for being rude when I saw that he was still preoccupied eyeing the ghost, the discomfort apparent on his face.
"Don't worry, he's harmless" I said, unable to hide a trace of amusement in my voice.
He glanced at me when I spoke, seeming to only just realize that I was there. He immediately released my wrist, his face flushing slightly.
"No idea what you're talking about" he said haughtily.
"It's alright, I won't tell anyone that you're afraid of ghosts"
"I am not afraid of ghosts. A Malfoy isn't afraid of anything"
"If you say so" I provoked, flashing a toothy smile for added effect.
He glared daggers at me before turning to dig into the feast that had appeared before us. After some time he spoke up and asked for my name.
"Ariana Montaine. Why? Adding me to your list of enemies?"
He smirked at that. "Father always said it's important to know your enemies"
"And keep them closer than friends" I agreed with a sly grin.
"Montaine, huh?" he muttered to himself as if trying to recall if he'd heard of it before. "Foreign pure-blood?"
"French" I nodded simply, not keen on delving into my family roots.
"I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy; and these are Crabbe and Goyle" he said, indicating towards the two burly boys seated on his other side. The two mumbled their greetings through the load of food stuffed in their cheeks.
"What is it with you Slytherins and blood purity anyhow?"
"You're a Slytherin too the last I checked. I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you, filthy Mudbloods, half-breeds and blood-traitors. They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Imagine, some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get their letter"
"Don't use that word with me" I growled in a warning tone. Raised by Uncle Albus and Aunt Minerva, I didn't share the prejudice most pure-bloods still held. Besides, I couldn't help thinking I was probably some sort of half-breed myself with my Veela origins.
"I can say whatever I want" he sneered. "Mudblood. Mudblood. Mudblood" he repeated, punctuating each time by closing the distance between us till he was all up in my face, his grey eyes challenging.
I clenched my fist, resisting the urge to sock him right there in front of the whole school, detention be damned. I didn't need Professor Trelawney's premonitions to know that we were not going to get along in the slightest.