Disclaimer: See the top of chapter 1 & 2. I don't own Harry Potter or the song "I Put a Spell on You!"
ATTENTION: TO ANYONE WHO'S INTERESTED, I AM LOOKING FOR A BETA READER FOR THIS STORY. PLEASE TELL ME IN A REVIEW OR E-MAIL IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO DO SO.
Warnings: AU. Mentions of sexual behavior. Teenage humor. Mature themes. Violence in later chapters. Some foul language. Romance. Creature violence.
Bloodlines: Heritage Year
Chapter Three & Four: The Sphinx's Nest
She was the warrior princess.
Among all three of her sisters, she was the physical one. They always knew what she felt because she always displayed it. Everyone in her family knew of the temper tantrums and compassionate squeezing hugs. They were also aware of the growing spark of madness in her dark eyes. Yet, all besides a rare few ignored the signs because she still addressed them with such affection. Society regarded her as the gorgeous woman with classic good looks and regal demeanor. In their eyes, she was the woman who appeared at operas and balls only to prove she was the best out of everyone in the room, whether it be dancing or simply dripping with gems. An arrogant woman and a vivacious lady. Both a warrior and a princess of high-class. She was the girl who cursed muggles from behind the bushes and, now years later, from out in the open.
Her name was Bellatrix Black.
I put a spell on you
and now you're mine…
You can't stop the things I do.
I ain't lyyyyyin'.
I've been gone for 300 years
right down to the day!
Now these witches are back to sing!
And there's hell to pay…
Playing on the small radio in the parlor of their Parisian apartment complex were the Wicked Witches of Canterbury- her favorite singing trio. This song was her personal anthem. Bellatrix sat lazily upon a luxurious satin chaise chewing on Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Despite the fact that her left arm and legs were splayed in un-ladylike manners, she looked as if she was a regal queen. Miss Black knew this too. You could tell by the way she glanced over a tall pile of expensive trinkets in the corner. From her suitors, of course. Bellatrix was twenty-three and at quite an agreeable age to marry. Any of the Black sisters would've been a perfect match; all of them were beautiful, tremendously wealthy, and all pure-blooded. Well…Bellatrix bit down on a bean particularly hard. All except for one of them now. Filthy blood-traitor.
I put a spell on you and now you're miiiiiine!
I put a spell on you and now you're gone.
(Gone…Gone…So long!)
My whammy fell on you and it was strong
(So strong…So strong…So stroooooooong!)
Bellatrix chose to jump in on the next part. It was the absolute best. She began to chant shrilly:
Your wretched little lives have all been cursed!
'Cause of all the witches working…
I'M-THE-WORST!
I put a spell on you and now you're miiiiiine!
(Watch out! Watch out! Watch out! Watch out!)
"Oh, dear Bella! You haven't resorted to karaoke again, have you?" inquired a soft voice. She ignored it and continued singing.
The radio cut off promptly. Bellatrix glared at her baby sister with a fierce vengeance. Narcissa, who was used to such staring, didn't flinch. Mostly, it was because she stood on the other side of the room and so impossible for her to turn the blasted song off without magic. Narcissa wrinkled her delicate nose. No young witch or wizard was allowed to perform magic during the summer until they reached seventeen. A preposterous rule if you asked her! But no matter, she could still do magic anyway because the Black family properties were so warded that the Ministry couldn't even sense a flimsy floating spell. However, she didn't have her wand on her at the moment. Narcissa showed this by spreading her pale palms flat in front of Bellatrix.
"Cissy, what in Salazar's name did you do that for?!"
"I didn't do a thing," she huffed. "My wand is upstairs on my bed."
Bellatrix raised a fine eyebrow. "I am not stupid, Cissy. These blood wards do more than just sit here for show."
"And, I am promising that I didn't take advantage of them. Besides, that song is awfully…vengeful. How about we turn to something more cheerful like the Goblin Orchestra?"
Coal dark eyes met lake blue orbs. Bellatrix and her baby sister Narcissa were like day and night in appearance. If it wasn't for the fact Cissy took after their mother's Rosier looks, one would've thought she was the product of an unscrupulous affair. All of the Blacks were notorious for their dark beauty, except for her. She possessed golden blonde locks, a pure and lovely demeanor, and a petite figure that came with being seventeen. Bella was untamed, crazed, and wickedly beautiful with aristocratic hooded-eyes in addition to a tall curvaceous frame. She was the sister that was used to being stared at by men. Bella smirked.
"Life isn't all Chocolate Frogs and rainbows. Can't I just have a moment's peace?"
Narcissa scowled. "I'm not a little girl anymore! I simply don't understand why the rest of you keep treating me so."
The older sister gave a nonchalant shrug. "You're the one who asks for yams with fudge topping."
Enjoying her sister's blush, Bella continued. "Not to mention, that everyone's already finished their schooling."
"I am going to be a 7th year! Besides, Sirius hasn't finished school either and I'm a year older than him!"
"Well, our dear cousin isn't exactly part of everyone, is he?"
The blonde fidgeted uncomfortably as her older sister pulled out her wand. With a lazy flick, the radio turned back on. Exhaling in relief, Narcissa pulled up a chair beside Bella's chaise. Her sister's moods had become more erratic by the day. Just yesterday she'd cursed an innocent squirrel that she deemed "trespassing on private property" with a painful jinx. The blonde winced as she remembered how the poor creature twitched and withered on the ground. It had only been skipping across the patio…
"Here's a compromise Cissy," replied Bella off-handedly. "Celestina Warbeck. You like her, don't you?"
The tremulous sounds of the Wicked Witches of Canterbury were soon replaced by the soft lyrics of "Cauldron of Love".
Oh, baby baby…keep stirring me so gently
Add a hint of you
Turn the fire up a notch
Oh, baby baby…keep stirring me so gently
I'm your secret recipe
You're batch of perfection
So won't you enjoy the fruits of your labor?
Oh, baby baby…keep stirring me so gently
And have a sip of my cauldron of love…
Bella glanced at her baby sister and indeed saw the expected reaction. Her pale cheeks were now red with awkwardness at the open breach of modesty. Cissy was all about modesty. She'd gotten it from their mother: Druella. Her baby sister didn't even wear the new tea-length robes and dresses that had gone in style for her pure-blood generation. Nope. Every long-skirted garment was floor or ankle-length, and Cissy barely possessed few of the later. No, best believe those were worn only in privacy. Her slim ankles were forever covered for modesty's sake in public. Bellatrix's eyes rolled. Narcissa was such a prude!
"Perhaps we should chan-,"
"It's the only British station in this country so deal with it."
The blonde huffed. "I understand French perfectly well!"
"Cissy, you barely passed with our tutor!"
"That's because he was an ingrate whom had no business teaching!"
"Mother and I," Bella replied listlessly "passed under his tutelage with flying broomsticks. You scraped by with an Acceptable."
"That because you cheated!"
She laughed in amusement. "I could have, but I didn't have to. Cissy, don't you remember how un-ladylike it is to yell?"
Narcissa stood from her perch and elegantly stomped over to the awaiting porcelain thirteenth-century tea set. She was miffed all right. Bella knew Narcissa liked to think of herself as the epitome of etiquette. Whenever something happened that pushed her buttons, she poured someone tea whether it was her old dolls or mother and sister. Bellatrix lazily leaned back against the chaise. She spotted once again the huge eleven-carat diamond ring on her baby sister's right ring finger. It was rather hard to miss.
"Are you still excited about the engagement gala this spring?"
The blonde blushed while glancing at the brilliant gem. "Oh, of course! Lucius is such a dream. He's quite perfect, don't you think?"
Bella snatched the offered cup of tea. "No," She took a sip. "I don't."
Oh, baby baby…keep stirring me so gently
And have a taste of my cauldr-,
WE INTERUPT THIS BROADCAST WITH A SPECIAL REPORT! THE WIZARD WIRELESS NETWORK HAS JUST RECEIVED NEWS THAT THE GUARDIAN STATUE TO THE BLACK WIDOW, MADAM WIDOW, HAS BEEN DESTROYED! REPEAT: THE GUARDIAN STATUE OF THE EXCLUSIVE CLUB BLACK WIDOW HAS BEEN DESTROYED BY AN UNKNOWN SOURCE! WHILE THERE ARE NO REPORTS OF CASUALITIES, OFFICIALS SAY THAT A NUMBER OF INJURIES HAVE TAKEN PLACE AT THE SCENE-,
"Oh, how dreadful!" cried Narcissa. "Madam Widow was so kind!"
"Hush, Cissy!!"
INJURIES INCLUDE BROKEN BONES, INTERNAL BLEEDINGS, AND SEVERAL CASES OF HEAD CONCUSSIONS AS SUFFERED BY VICTIMS WHO WERE CAUGHT BY DEBRIS. CURRENTLY, MINISTRY OFFICIALS ARE INVESTIGATING THE CRIME AND ARE BLOCKING OFF ENTRANCE TO…Allée Impéria-WAIT! THIS JUST IN! ENTRANCE IS BEING ALLOWED TO BLACK WIDOW MEMBERS AS REQUESTED BY OWNER.
"Thank Merlin! I'm so looking forward to a trip to Allée Impériale! Do you think Uncle Orion will let us take his carria-,"
"Hush, Cissy!!"
MINISTRE DUCLAIRES INSISTS THAT THE INCIDENT IS MERELY AN ACCIDENT AND COINCENDENTAL WITH THE RUSSIAN INQUIRY. MANY DISAGREE. CURRENTLY, THERE IS NO WORD WHETHER THE STATUE MADAM WIDOW WILL BE REPAIRED IN SOME WAY OR REPLACED. THE LATER IS PROBABLY THE ONLY OPTION AS THE ARTWORK WAS BLOWN INTO SMITHEREENS-,
"Hey! I was listening to that!"
Bellatrix ignored her protests. "Oh hush up, Cissy! Uncle Orion! Aunt Walburga! Come down quickly! Something exciting has happened!"
They were staying with their aunt, uncle, and cousins while their parents pursued a second honeymoon on the Riviera. She pierced her thin lips. The last second honeymoon Cygnus and Druella went on resulted in Andromeda. Yes, there'd originally been three Black sisters but the second had made her foolish choice. Running off and marrying a mudblood! Filthy blood-traitor! Bellatrix scowled angrily as she prayed that Salazar forbid her mother become impregnated with a similar waste of flesh.
Instead of hearing the graceful coinciding steps of her uncle and aunt, both Black sisters heard a bombardment of heavy pounding on the wooden stairway.
"YOU WILL NOT BE CONSORTING WITH THAT DREADFUL POTTER SCUM, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!"
"YOU CAN'T STOP ME YOU UGLY HAG! UNDERSTAND THAT!"
"DON'T TALK TO YOUR MOTHER THAT WAY, SIRIUS! WE RAISED YOU BETTER!"
"NO! YOU RAISED ME TO STICK MY NOSE IN THE AIR AND HATE PEOPLE BECAUSE OF WHO THEY WERE BORN TO!"
"YOU THINK YOU'RE SO DIFFERENT, EH?! DON'T THINK I DON'T SEE THAT SMIRK ON YOUR FACE WHEN YOU TALK TO INFERIORS!"
"THE ONLY BLOODY INFERIORS I SEE HERE ARE YOU AND YOUR PRAT OF A HUSBAND! YOU CAN'T POSSIBLY BE MY PARENTS! YOU DON'T EVEN TRY TO UNDERSTAND ME! YOU'RE TOO DAMN COLD-HEARTED!!!"
"BLOOD-TRAITOR! SHAME OF MY FLESH! GET BACK HERE!!!!"
"SIRIUS, LISTEN TO YOUR MO-,"
"SHUT THE HELL UP AND GROW SOME BALLS WHILE YOU'RE AT IT TO MATCH HERS!"
"WHY YOU-,"
The front door slammed on its hinges as Sirius Black, heir to the Black family fortune and title, stormed from the apartment. Bellatrix smirked. The possibility of that changing grew bigger with each passing day. Her cousin was becoming reckless. By spending time with blood-traitors, he dishonored the Black family motto of "Tonjours Pur" or "Always Pure". Sirius spit on their high noble values by pulling childish pranks at school and landing himself into hundreds of detentions in the process. With each loud rebellion, he lost more chance of inheriting his rightful title and the three humongous Gringotts bank vaults that went with it. It hadn't always been this way, Bella remembered all right. Sirius started off as the apple of the family's eye. He was fascinated that he was named after the brightest star in the skies: the Dog Star. Then, as he grew older, a rebellious streak began to reveal itself. He adored the scandal when he was sorted into Gryffindor: the first Black to ever have been so.
"I swear! That insolent brat! Just wait and see what happens when he comes back tonight! WAIT AND SEE!"
"There, there Walburga. No need to fuss-,"
"No need? NO NEED?! Salazar's beard, have you LOST YOUR MIND? YOU'RE A FOOL!" shrieked Lady Walburga Black, Countess of Chevron, shrilly. "AND YOUR SON TAKES AFTER YOU!"
"That's quite enough, Mrs. Black."
Oh dear. He called Auntie Walburga that when he was either very upset or very annoyed. Walburga were second cousins whose marriage united two sides of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black.
"Honestly, Orion! You are being too soft on that boy! Give him a hard flogging, for once! Salazar knows he needs it!"
"Mrs. Black, I assure you that I am quite capable of disci-,"
"WELL, I HAVE YET TO SEE IT! I TOLD YOU AS SOON AS HE ENTERED THAT SCHOOL HE WAS STARTING TO GO BAD!"
"I believed you too. However, I both recall us agreeing that the more appropriate school, Durmstrang, was too far away."
"YOU'RE IMPOSSIBLE! THE NEXT THING WE KNOW, YOU'LL BE THE ONE CONSORTING WITH MUDBLOO-,"
You could hear Orion snarl with distaste. "I assure you Mrs. Black that for me to consort with a mudblood would mean I would have to talk with one for more than a passing moment. I cannot stand the sight of one, much less hold conversation. Tonjours Pur will always be of great importance to me. Don't question my family honor because I choose to uphold it in a more composed manner."
A resonating howl of frustration followed by more heavy pounding on the stairs signaled their Aunt and Uncle's exit. One would be going to the bedroom to hurl inanimate objects; the other probably stepping into his office to glance over paperwork.
"Why can't Sirius be a good sport?" wailed Narcissa. "He insists on making Auntie lose her temper with his tantrums."
A fierce gleam entered the dark-haired witch's eyes. So fierce it made her baby sister step back warily. "That brat will regret it one day. Things are changing around here, Cissy. A new order is about to take place and everyone against it will suffer sooner rather than later." Bella gazed into those blue orbs. "The real question is: are you ready to fight for it?"
The blonde fanned her reddening face with long fingers. "B-B-Bella, you didn't-,"
"I did."
"Rodolphus? Does he know?"
"Of course, he agreed with me 100 and joined himself." Bellatrix fingered her wand. "Will you fight, baby sister?"
Narcissa exhaled in defeat. "You know I support the cause to the fullest. But, I'm afraid I don't have the physical tolerance for such…acts. You know that."
"Um-hm. You always were a sissy, Cissy." The witch purred affectionately. "I shall relay the news then. Don't worry, baby sister, I'll fight with enough vigor for the both of us. Guaranteed."
The other Black sister nodded uncomfortably. She almost felt sorry for the enemy. Whenever Bella guaranteed with vigor, it usually ended in blood, tears, and a nasty shattering hex at the kneecaps. That was her signature. One that even Narcissa had carried a few times.
Bellatrix was the warrior of the Blacks. Dangerous.
CHAPTER FOUR
"Comment vous oser! Vous qui savez je suis?!"
Lilyanna Evans considered herself an intelligent girl. At Hogwarts, the redhead was in the top of her year besides in that nasty little subject called Transfiguration. In the muggle world, she knew how to count to ten in Spanish, sing Fere Jacques in half-French, and bake a mean rice pudding. Though she hadn't reached the same cooking aptitude of Petunia or her father, at least Lily didn't burn water unlike her "unable-to-decipher-a-recipe-if-life-depended-on-it" mum. Gloria Evans set their oven on fire more than any other mother or housekeeper in London. Pride of the Queen's kitchen, her mum is… A grin set on Lily's tired lips. Who thought about cooking at a time like this? Dear Merlin, she must be delusional!
"SPEAK ENGLISH, YOU SAY! MIGHT AS WELL! YOU AMERICANS REFUSE TO LEARN FRENCH!"
Ouch. Lily was also smart enough to know when some poor bloke was about to get sacked! That fellow was shouting at the top of his lungs. Lily winced. She could honestly say she felt sorry for that poor American on the other side. If he understood French as abysmally as her, how could he get through that accent?
"IF YOU DON'T FIND ME A REPLACEMENT…I DON'T CARE IF JACQUELINE CAUGHT A COLD OR THREW 'ERSELF OFF BRIDGE! FIND ME A NEW MODEL! NON! NON! I WILL NOT 'AVE DISCOUNT CLOTH! DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM, MONSIEUR?…OUI…MAKE IT 'APPEN!"
The phone slammed down on its receiver. Phone? What was a muggle phone doing in a wizarding-paradise like Allée Impériale? Lily peeked out an eye. Her breasts were against what felt like hard stone. Hot, dry wind blew along her back. Lily's face was covered with wet red curls. Oh God, she was sweating like a pig! With a painful groan, she reached a hand up to move her thick hair from view. Much better. The witch could tell that her face was terribly flushed by the earlier heat, not to mention unbearably dry and peeling. God, she must've looked a sight! Thankfully, the peculiar aches from earlier had dimmed down.
Lily released a whimper as memories of the last few hours came rushing back.
"Do us all a favor and just blow yourself up, you bloody bitch!!"
Piercing groans of pain resonated from victims that lay on the trashed ground…
Debris everywhere… where the statue named Madame Widow once stood was a pile of smoking rubble…
The bloodied face of a small boy. He wasn't moving.
Mr. Evans grinned forlornly. "Be careful what you wish for. It's rather dangerous for you."
'But, I didn't do it, right Daddy? You know that.' thought Lily in mental despair. She hugged her knees. 'I was mad at Mal-Rat not them! What's happening to me?!"
The redhead didn't understand why she felt like a lost child. It was if a piece of her was breaking off. Emerald green orbs glanced toward the sky. The sun was setting, casting a myriad of oranges, yellows, in addition to dark and velvet purples across the sky. The beautiful sight felt like a foreboding omen. Something bad was happening somewhere…Lily shook her head before rolling her eyes. Now she sounded like her crazy Divination professor from 3rd year!
"Ooooopen your soooooouls! Cast your eeeeeeyes into the fuuuuuture!" moaned Lily with a mocking wail. The only thing Lily managed to see in that damned crystal was her own napping reflection. She snorted. "Thrrrrrrow yourself into the unyielding misssssts of tiiiiime!"
Laughing wildly, the young witch tossed her head back as she eased her curls into a bun. It wasn't night yet quite so she still had time to explore. Allée Impériale seemed to be an eighteenth-century Parisian scene frozen in time. The cobblestone streets were beginning to empty with their ornate carriages embellished with family crests and symbols of love. Wizards tapped long wooden canes against the sidewalk as they escorted their wives or children back home again. The shops that ran along Allée Impériale were indeed luxurious notwithstanding their astronomically priced items. Most of the grey stone buildings appeared tall, menacing, and covered with green strangling ivy. Allée Impériale definitely wasn't as long as Lily was expecting it to be, but now, especially at night, it was radiating that mysterious almost romantic air that Paris (muggle and wizarding) was famous for.
A few bronze danseurs jingled in Lily's pockets. French money she exchanged at Gringotts, the wizard bank, before leaving Britain. The redhead sang as she walked down Le Chemin de Martin-a small avenue.
I see trees of green, red roses too
I see them bloom for me and you
And, I think to myself what a wonderful world...
I see skies of blue and clouds of white
the bright blessed day, the dark sacred night
And, I think to myself what a wonderful world!
She actually learned this song from Mr. Evans' old record collection. He was a huge Satchmo fan. When Lily was little, Mr. Evans made both his daughters sit with him at night and listen to all the old jazz greats of the world. Petunia got more from it than she did. But, thankfully, Mr. Evans was starting to warm up to Lily's loud rock 'n roll though he still preferred The Beatles. The redhead grinned. She was modernizing him. She knew it.
The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces of people going by…
I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do
They're really saying I love you.
I hear babies crying. I watch them grow.
They'll learn much more than I'll never know…
A few stars peeked out from against the clouds. The silver moon leisurely rose to its ethereal spot above the horizon. Night. Lily shivered slightly, rubbing her arms. Great. Now, she was getting cold! It's a sure sign she needed to go back to the inn. Dad was probably worried sick, pacing the floor back and forth while mum and Petunia sorted through their new trinkets. Speaking of which, Lily hadn't bought anything in Paris yet. Emerald orbs rolled. She'd been too busy "sulking" earlier to look at souvenirs.
And, I think to myself what a wonderful world!
Yes…I think to myself what a wonderful world…
Lily grabbed a nearby light pole by the arm and swung around on it lazily. Growing dizzy, the young witch laughed louder as colors blurred together. "Oh yes! What a wonderful, wonderful, wonderful world!" With a resonating cry of joy, she flung herself mid-swing off the pole and onto someone else.
"Oh! Excuse me. I am so sorry. Did I hurt you?"
"Your partner is waiting."
"S-Sorry?"
His height was what caught her by surprise. This man she'd bumped into was extremely tall, almost seven feet high. Muscular arms crossed as his astonishing electric blue, deep-set eyes gazed down on Lily wisely. The mahogany wand hanging on the stranger's leather belt nearly matched with his dark skin. A slight grin appeared as he fixed the collar of his cloak-probably the only damage she'd inflicted on his person.
"Your partner," he spoke reassuringly, "is waiting for you. You are last of the fresh blood tonight. Come with me."
The black man grabbed Lily by the arm, pulling her towards an alleyway. "Wait! Let go of me! I already have a wand if that's what you-,"
"No, that's not what I mean. It's time for you to find your partner in magic."
"Isn't that what a wand's for?! Let me go! NOW!"
The redhead latched her arms onto a doorway in an attempt to turn around. Glancing over her shoulder, Lily froze in shock. Walking merrily down the cobblestone lane with a handsome couple was the boy! It had to be him! Except now, his face wasn't bloodied. And, as he ran in front of his parents, the lad laughed in glee. Definitely breathing, definitely alive, and most certainly not buried under rubble. The sight, while relieving, still left Lily with unease. There was no way even with magic for the tyke to heal that fast. Her dad was a doctor. She knew about the post-traumatic syndromes. Yet, he was just a smiling and grinning as if someone shouted free ice cream. How?
The unfamiliar man spoke again. His voice reminded Lily of a deep gong. "We must hurry before they come for you!" He pulled at her wrist and with his great strength effectively removed her from her post. "They have been watching you since daybreak. Your father was a fool to leave you without protection."
"How do you know my father?" cried Lily.
He hesitated. "…Never mind that. Come. Come. We must hurry!"
"WHY-,"
"Hush, child! The shadows have ears, you know. If it eases you to know, my name is Xavier."
Lily snorted. "Oh, yes. Knowing my killer's name will bring me great comfort before I'm blown away into itty bitty pieces on the pavement!"
"My, my," Xavier chuckled in amusement. "You've inherited quite the biting tongue. I am no killer, child. I am the Guardian of the Treasures and my line has passed down that title for thousands of years. I'd rather not dishonor the tradition."
"Well. I'd rather you leave me the hell alone, but we don't always get what we want, do we?"
"Hush, child."
They walked for about half a kilometer. Lily was positive they weren't in Allée Impériale anymore when the shiny apartment complexes and luxury stores became sordid, rundown houses and discount shops on the block. People milled about in a lethargic yet still charged manner. Lily glowered at a drunkard who gave her a rude gesture with his tongue. As much as she hated to say it, this place was rather filthy. Smelly, stagnant water flooded the streets. Dirt was everywhere, especially on children's faces. Lily's heart lurched as she viewed their thin, tattered robes. Her light blue halter sundress was clean and, whiles not haute couture, at least wearable. A barely-dressed woman approached Xavier purring in his ear. He pushed her away and steered Lily toward their destination.
"Welcome to Le Nid de Sphnix. The Sphinx's Nest."
If Xavier hadn't pointed out the iron door, she would've walked right past it. The wizard gently ushered Lily inside. Out of the corner of her eye, she heard him mutter then saw him trace his fingers along the doorframe. It glowed red. "That'll hold 'em for a while."
"Who's them?"
"The shadows. But never mind that. Start feeling for your partner."
The young witch realized she was standing in a single room filled with junk. Piles of miscellaneous items were thrown upon more piles of chaos. There were not only books, but yo-yos, boxes, toy trains and ships, rocks, string, broken wands, and kitchenware. It appeared to be the place where everything lost in the universe gravitated. Lily's button nose wrinkled. "How am I supposed to do that?"
"With your magic, dawling." A purring voice answered. " 'Ello! My name ez Celestyn Le Creux-Duclaires. You must be Lilyanna. My, you so look like your père, excuse me, your father."
Celestyn Le Creux-Duclaires was possibly the loveliest witch Lily had ever seen. She'd read articles about the witch in the Daily Prophet, which led either praising on her heavenly looks and generosity or whispering about her reputation as a high-maintenance gold digger. Lily scrunched her eyebrows, trying to remember all she could. Before marriage, Mademoiselle Le Creux was a dazzling international supermodel, but a low-born one at that. Her parents were carpenters. Their daughter played off her angelic face, tanned skin, waterfall of a brown mane, and glowing aquamarine eyes to her best advantage. Emerald orbs slightly rolled. Lily saw boys and even male professors at Hogwarts oogle the woman's winking posters. Sirius Black had even whistled about her having, "the best rack in Europe."
"You're the Prime Minister's wife, right?" Lily shook hands with the older woman. "How do you know my dad?"
"Yes, I am le Madame de Ministre. I'm sure you heard all about my Honoré today. What with his moving speech on the wireless and all…doesn't his voice sound so debonair?" She shivered. "I shall have to make sure to surprise my politician tonight."
The redhead's grin became fixed. "Oh…that's nice…my dad-,"
"Everyone knows your father, dawling. He is-how would you say it in English?-famous. But, I'm sure you know all about that!"
"Uh, not really." Lily shrugged. "You gotta be mistaken, ma'm. My dad's a muggle."
It was amusing to see the high-class witch sputter wordlessly. Then a shadow crossed her beautiful countenance. "Ah! I see he has decided to keep you in the dark despite your transforma-,"
A polite cough reverberated from the corner. Xavier pointed toward a staircase behind them Lily hadn't noticed. Prancing down it was a blonde-haired girl that was the near mirror reflection of Celestyn. "There's my baby! Antoinette, je veux que vous ayez rencontré Lilyanna. Elle est l'âge pareille comme vous. Lilyanna attends Hogwarts, yes?"
"Oui, mère," answered the blonde demurely. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle Lilyanna. My name ez Antoinette Duclaires."
The emerald-eyed girl reached out to shake the formally offered hand. "Same. Call me Lily, everyone else does."
A hint of some emotion Lily couldn't quite identify tinted Antoinette's lips into a sort of half-smirk. Her golden hair was arranged neatly in a bun, yet it seemed a bit wild as if the pins wouldn't hold it. Lily was positive she'd seen the girl on a magazine cover, but, besides that, hadn't heard of her. Antoinette's pretty head was cocked to one side, aquamarine orbs evaluating. Lily felt like a statue on display over a fireplace. Then she blanched as the other stifled a yawn and turned to converse with her mother in French. Aren't you Miss Friendly?
"Mademoiselle Duclaires, did you find your partner?" asked Xavier. The blonde nodded; this time in excitement. She handed over a unique necklace that appeared handmade with an assortment of pale beads, ocean fragments, and striking seashells. The Guardian of the Treasures analyzed the necklace, whispering to it gently.
"You have chosen well, child. This necklace is the Collar of Amphitrite- an ancient Greek goddess. With its powers, you will be able to speak to and summon any aquatic creature throughout the seven seas. Use it wisely."
Lily saw Antoinette hold back a squeal as the treasure was placed upon her neck. Celestyn didn't bother. She tightly held her daughter, purring and cooing with maternal delight. The redhead caught a glimpse of a big diamond brooch on Antoinette's high-collared robes. She wondered if the girl was really as indulged as much as one might believe.
"My poor baby! Now, you will never come out from the water!" cried Celestyn in mock-dismay. "Your père will be so proud."
The young witch giggled with joy. "Merci, monsieur."
"Je n'ai fait rien. Mais, vous êtes très bienvenu. Come mademoiselle fleur," Xavier motioned at Lily. "It's time that you found your own partner."
Madam Le Creux-Duclaires fastened a silk green cloak over her dress. "Au revoir, monsieur….mademoiselle. Lilyanna, dawling, you must try to visit us on the Rivera this summer. Our house there ez quite comfortable and my baby here prefers company."
The sour look on Antoinette's face told Lily that she didn't. "Um…I'll try."
"Excellent! Even if you don't come, Antoinette ez always happy to show pictures. You go to 'Ogwarts, yes? She will definitely see you, then. Au revoir, mon chere! Say goodbye dawling."
"Au revoir," returned Antoinette stiffly as she followed her mother out. "If we don't meet at Hogwarts, we'll see each other at the Sanguis."
Lily grinned brightly. "See ya later!" The door closed. "Bitch."
Mysteriously, a chuckling Xavier appeared beside her. "That's no way to talk about someone."
"Pah!" Emerald orbs rolled. "Did you see the way that girl looked at me? I thought the flesh was going to melt off her face when her mum invited me over! And-and, what is the Sanguis?"
"Her haughtiness isn't unjustified, child, and neither is yours. The Duclaires family has existed in France since the time of kings. They have precedence over the French Conclave…which you will learn about in due time." Xavier added hastily. "As to the Sanguis, it's not my place to tell you."
"But-,"
"Start searching now! The Sphinx's Nest must close at midnight tonight. You have but sixteen minutes."
Lily blanched into a ghastly shade of white. It was past eleven o'clock already! Her dad was going to kill her when she got back! Emerald eyes glazed over the humongous piles of junk. How was she supposed to find her "partner" in this pigsty again? With her magic?
"Lilyanna!!"
"Look buster. You're the one who dragged me here so don't rush me! Merlin, who tied your wand in a knot? Jeez!"
The girl turned away on her heel. Xavier frowned. He didn't need to look at the door to feel the moving darkness licking along the bottom of the frame, craving for its missing target to satisfy the never-ending hunger. "The shadows, child."
Whenever Madeline felt upset, she went shopping. It was a natural reaction to any extreme emotional experience. Jolly or cheerless, depressed or triumphant. And, when in Paris, she could be found in one place: the House of WorthMadeline loved the House of Worth. It was her haven, a place where nothing terrible could be allowed to occur. She adored the clean architectural details, the pale wood fixtures, the glaring light against the glass of the perfume counters, and the racks upon racks of gorgeous (albeit exorbitantly priced) dress robes and lingerie. Shopping there would be a great remedy to what happened earlier.
Madeline huffed as her boot heels clacked against the cobblestone pathway while her long velvet cloak swept against it. The Potters abandoned her! What nerve! Blue eyes narrowed. Lady Dorea never did come down from her quarters. Charlus whisked off to his fancy-smancy meeting without another word. And, James! Oh, James! Her snookums, and secret (at least to his parents) boyfriend for three months, had never even come to Allée Impériale!! Madeline inquired on all the shopkeepers from King's Lane to La Place de Marie Antoinette. No one had seen hide or tail of le jeune monsieur Potter or his comrades since New Year's Eve. Nope. She'd barely seen him this entire vacation! What was wrong with James? Was he trying to avoid her?
As Madeline slid her wand into the membership keyhole, the glass doors opened. Another quality she loved about the House of Worth: irreparably exclusive. An extremely skinny witch with chic purple robes on approached Madeline deferentially. "Peux-je vous aider, Mademoiselle vonArrow?"
"I've come to see the gowns put aside for me."
She nodded. With a bow, Madeline was ushered inside. She followed the salesclerk to the private dressing room in the back that was reserved for VIP's such as herself. It was a circular room with black leather couches along the circumference, a drink bar, and a hosted buffet table. Madeline's blue eye immediately spotted the rack of clothes her mother or personal shopper had especially chosen for her. A smirk formed on those plump lips. Merlin, she loved special treatment! Grabbing a pumpkin martini, Madeline perused her rack laying possibilities for the Sanguis on the couch beside her. She frowned after a few minutes.
"Why is everything on here black?!" whined the broomstick heiress.
The salesclerk winced. "Black is the primary color for the Sanguis, mademoiselle."
"But, that doesn't mean it has to be a funeral, does it? How could mother do this to me! She knows I have to look the absolute best. This is my coming-out for crying out loud!"
Madeline kicked the steel rack away not even feeling the customary pain in her toes. She screamed with rage while throwing the filled martini glass on the expensive carpet. To the salesclerk's horror, Madeline began going through other people's racks. The blonde witch howled like a wounded animal whenever an article of clothing was better than one of hers. Wild exclamations of "trash", "waste", "junk", and "not fair!" filled the area. Madeline vonArrow had officially entered a tantrum tirade.
"Mademoiselle!" cried the clerk in distress. "Please stop! Please!"
"Shut up!" The pupils of her silvery blue eyes turned into slits. "You stupid human! Get me Charles Worth! NOW!"
"M-M-Monsieur is dealing with a very important client who requires his, um, full concentration at the moment."
"WHO'S MORE IMPORTANT THAN ME?"
A suave new voice entered the conversation. "Plenty of people, if I may recall. Your parents are members of the British Conclave, yes? Let's see…there's the Council members…the Regis…then you have the European Coven…the Table of Ranks…why, Miss vonArrow, you don't even hold a title to your name! You're just filthy rich-something anyone else can be with the right idea. Why should I design a gown for you?"
Though inwardly seething, Madeline calmed her features back to normal. Charles Worth was definitely not one to mess with. He might've been a short, squat man with a bald head and an almost dowdy appearance, but he was the current wizarding god of fashion. His word went unchallenged. His delightful confections of tulle, silk, and satin embroidery were worshiped by witches everywhere. It was common knowledge Monsieur Worth got paid thousands of galleons to show off and ship his creations around the world. To have a gown made exclusively by him at the Sanguis would be too marvelous for words! Madeline grinned charmingly. Here was her chance.
"Because I'm beautiful."
To her embarrassment, the Monsieur snorted in disbelief. "You're pretty, I'll give you that. But, I've dressed some ladies that would sweep the floor with you."
Madeline flushed in outrage. How dare he! "I am clever."
"Oh yes…so clever that you would near destroy my VIP room, insult one of my best employees, interrupt my work while doing so, and then ask for my help with your little gown. Are you sure you're even invited to the Sanguis?"
"Of course, I am!"
With a flick of a finger, a large brandy floated into his hand. "Give me another reason."
It didn't take long to think of another. "I'm powerful! You saw what I'm capable of!"
"Spurts of accidental magic that any mere wizard child is capable of…I applaud you. You'll be a Grand Sorceress yet." Sarcasm dripped from his tone. "What is your partner?"
"A partner? I don't need some stupid little trinket to enhance my power."
The brandy vanished in one gulp. "So you're saying you didn't even bother going to the Sphinx's Nest? Humph. Fool. But, lucky for you, I pity the fool."
Blue eyes glowed as the Monsieur Worth removed his wand. Was he? While muttering under his breath in French, racks upon racks of ball gowns zoomed from around the VIP room or from other parts of the shop. They zig-zagged, curved, and then finally straightened in front of him. With an examining eye, the short fashion genius selected a few gowns, throwing them carelessly in Madeline's direction.
"Try those on."
"B-B-B-But, I wanted you to design a dress! And, these are all so gloomy-looking!"
He glanced up sharply. "You'll take what I pick for you and you'll like it. I'm only designing Sanguis gowns for wives and children of the Table of Ranks."
These rags were not what she wanted! With a huff, Madeline dropped them on the floor while crossing her arms stubbornly. The salesclerk moved to grab the forsaken articles. "Don't touch those, Jeanine!" Her manicured hand flinched back at her employer's frigid tone. "Obviously Miss vonArrow doesn't understand that every piece sold here is evaluated by me. So when she insults other's work, she insults my expertise."
Madeline stomped her foot. "I'm not wearing those! They're all so dark and the skirts are too short. They look like something that mudblood Evans might wear!"
"Please refrain from using that disgusting word in my shop." replied the now calm Monsieur.
"I know, right! Evans is such a nasty muggle name. It's so plain! Not to mention she's always sassing off to the professors…she thinks she's everything and a box of chocolate frogs!"
"Is she attractive? She must be." No one but Jeanine noticed the conviction in his voice.
"Is there such a thing as an attractive mudblood?" answered Madeline in a sneer. "Mind you, she's all right. Not as bad as Ivy Parkinson. But, she's no great beauty like me! That little second-year boy who follows her everywhere doesn't help matters either. He thinks she's wonderful. Can you believe he's a Hallow? Mother told me that family is going downhill!"
The Monsieur kept flipping threw the racks, but his brown eyes were glowing. "Does this Evans mademoiselle have red hair?"
"I wouldn't say red. It's more of an orange color. But, you can't really tell because she wears it up all the time. She's terrible! My boyfriend James and I can't stand her," gushed Madeline. "You should hear how she talks to him! Like she's the Queen of England!"
"James Potter?"
"Of course. You know him?"
Monsieur Worth snorted. "I design tea gowns for his mother. I know of him because he's all she talks about. My, that boy has sunk low."
"What's that supposed to mean?!" cried the blonde in indignation.
"Nothing. But, that boy is a Potter male. They are famous for their weakness for women with red hair. So, when I hear you talk about this Evans girl, I wonder if you are jealous of the fact she's better than you at something or of her red hair."
Madeline sneered. Everyone knew red hair was much less desirable than blonde like hers. "Me? Jealous? Hah! Don't make me laugh! Why would I be jealous of her?"
"What color are her eyes?"
"Toady green."
He shook his bald head. "Emerald, then. You should know better, vonArrow. That's top-notch! No wonder they're so proud…"
"Who are "they" and why are you so interested in Evans?!"
"Never mind that. Here. Buy this and leave my shop, you will. I'm tired of ya! You're lucky I pity fools, Mademoiselle vonArrow."
Haphazardly tossing over a dress, Monsieur Worth nodded at his employee to take care of the rest. She bid her boss a good night because she knew he was off to bed in the attic. The Monsieur constantly stayed close to his drawing board for whenever inspiration may unexpectedly strike. Jeanine walked over to her blonde customer, wincing at the ugliness of the garment in her arms. It was A-line with a pick up skirt and sweetheart neckline. The waist was curved; the train was floor length. Yet, those were the only appealing technical features. First, the skirt was incredibly puffy and cone-like in shape. Second, it was also pleated into ruffles held by tacky crystal sequins. Third, the entire dress was possibly the most alarming, obnoxious, gaudy, and horrible shade of orange Jeanine had ever seen.
"It's perfect…" purred Madeline as she headed toward the counter without bothering to try the monstrosity on. "And, I'll have those other clothes on the couch too."
All in all, Madeline vonArrow made a purchase of seven extravagant items (including a terribly pink feathered hat) totaling a hefty cost of 2,753 danseurs. The blonde charged it to her family account without batting an eyelash.
"Goodnight, mademoiselle," uttered a relieved salesclerk as Madeline exited with head held high. As expected, the vonArrow family carriage was waiting for her. It was too late for a young lady like herself to walk home unescorted.
The old footman smiled. "Did you enjoy your-umph!"
Boxes were immediately shoved onto his person, rudely cutting off his greeting. Madeline really didn't feel like annoying chit-chat tonight. All she wanted to worry about was taking off her makeup and spending time with James tomorrow. Blue orbs narrowed. That boy was lucky he looked so delicious or else she would never forgive him for today! Leaning back onto the soft cushion, Madeline glanced out the tiny window at the glamorous facade of the House of Worth.
Hmph. Such rude service! She never did like that place much.
Strange things are happening in Paris and I think they have something to do with me. Crazy, huh? Well, I'm back at the inn now. I guess that's pretty dumb to tell you because you can't talk and I wouldn't be anywhere else writing. Mum asked me if I had been with a boy all night. Typical. You remember my mum, right? The ex-heiress? Yup, that's her. She still acts like one, mind you, and she's obsessed that Petunia and me marry rich. Good luck to that! No offense to my blood, but Petunia's not pretty at all, diary! Only dad thinks she is. Mum and I secretly wonder what happened to the production from the time of the adorable baby pictures. I suppose I shouldn't really talk. I'm not bad-looking, but I'm definitely no Celestyn Duclaires. Strange thing is though that boys have been staring at me lately like I'm sort of veela. I'm not bragging! In Allée Impériale, this bloke who owned a jewelry shop tried to give me free emeralds "to match high-quality eyes!" Desperate? I think so.
I found my "partner" today. Don't ask me what a partner is supposed to do. I don't know myself. At this place named the Sphinx's Nest, I concentrated my magic and found this dusty, old leather book that "called" to me. I think it's rather useless because the pages are empty, but Xavier (Guardian of the Treasure or whatever) insisted they'll reveal themselves with time. He called it the Book of Shadows. There's no writing in it anywhere! All there just is is a picture of an intercrossed sun and moon on the cover. Then, for some reason, Xavier made me floo to the fireplace downstairs. You can imagine that sight with the muggles. Great, huh? I'm trying to decide if I want to bring the book to Hogwarts with me. Who am I kidding? It's my only souvenir from Paris! If anything, Treth will like it or at least pretend to. He's sweet like that.
Okay, diary, I haven't gotten a spanking for being bad since I was seven. But, that might change when dad comes back. Especially, if Petunia decides to forget the pocket money I promised her to keep that big mouth of hers shut! Nah, but I was just pulling ya string on the spanking part. No, daddy will probably ground me to the house until Hogwarts. Harsh, much? I hope mum doesn't tell him that theory about me being with a boy. Oh then I'll never see the light of day until Hogwarts. Dad's pretty protective like that. He once told Petunia and I we're not allowed to date until "after we're married!" Does that make sense to you, diary? You can imagine how tough it is for me being the baby of the family! Honestly, I'm 16 and my dad treats me like I'm 6.
Enough ranting now. Seriously, I am worried about him, diary. It is one o'clock in the morning (yes, I'm about to claw my eyes out) and he's still not back! Earlier, when I was in Allée Impériale, I felt something…evil was happening somewhere. But, I don't know what and to whom. Do you think it was about daddy? It would be unlucky to have something happen to him on my birthday and…I said some pretty awful things to him that I want to apologize for. Some wicked things. But, out of all of us, Mum is worried the most. She keeps pacing by the fireplace downstairs, refusing to go to sleep or acting like she doesn't need it. They have been married for about twenty years now. I mean she gave up a huge inheritance for him. That's love! Anyone can tell she's obsessed with daddy. You have to know dad to tell he loves her too because he's not big with PDA (public display of affection). Dad's more of the less chauvinist, Victorian gentleman doctor type. Do you think my husband will be like that, diary? They say girls marry men like their fathers. I don't know. I've always imagined my man would be more outgoing, you know, kinda crazy! Someone that would travel with me to exotic places and make me laugh until I need stitches. Romantic, huh?
Well diary, we have about a week left in Paris. I can't wait to get back to London. This heat wave is killing me! It can't possibly be this hot in London. Yep, all I want to do is just lay on the grass in Hyde Park and watch the clouds go by. Maybe I'll write a few songs there or play some guitar licks for change. You should see me, diary. I wear the oldest pair of overalls I have and this great fedora hat. My parents hate it and Petunia doesn't claim me because she says I look like a beggar child. Whatever! I think I look so…post-modern and ironic! (That's a quote from mum's fancy heiress talk.) She's just jealous because I make more pocket money than her. That's sisterhood for you.
I think I'll retire for the night, diary. Just pray dad comes back while I'm sleeping, will you?
Forever Your Flower,
Even tourists knew about the infamous Pigalle Place in the city. It was the Parisian red-light district where the more adventurous risqué crowd entered at night. They partied madly inside the cabarets among the general adults-only shows and X-rated adventures. It's rumored a man can buy an overpriced bottle of champagne and that markup covers a girl for the night as well. She frowned. Why was she dreaming of this place? She wasn't sleep-walking, was she? Her eyes roamed the area, causing her jaw to drop. Impossible!
Yet there he was: a tall man wearing a pressed shirt, pants, and tie coming quickly up the slope. Her father! What was Dmitri Evans doing in a place like Pigalle? He should be entering the inn or calling them from some late night medical conference. A name barely floats from his lips. Morgaine. Morgaine. Was he looking for her? Who was this Morgaine anyway?
A scantily dressed prostitute pulls him by the tie toward her abode. She purrs to him in French, eyeing him as though he were a succulent piece of meat. It was no secret to her that her father was extremely handsome. With his short, cropped light brown hair, lean figure, and angular face set with those constantly analyzing cobalt orbs had women swooning. As his daughter, she'd gone her whole life hearing nurses at the hospital croon "Paging Dr. Dreamy" whenever he walked past. Mr. Evans was one of those kinds of men you could stare at or droll over for hours, which his wife would do with free and youthful abandon because she got the ring first. It used to be rather unsettling growing up with such an attractive dad, especially when you proposed to him when you were six and never allowed to forget it since.
Mr. Evans roughly pushed the woman away, growling under his breath. He continued his determined trek along the lines of neon signs and intoxicated men. But, the prostitute- something was different about her. The coquette's eyes were glowing vivid, nasty yellow. She tried to call out to her dad. Warn him. Yet for some reason no word exited her mouth and she was forced to watch helplessly as the woman followed him.
They walked into a quieter niche of Pigalle. Here most pedestrians were inside enjoying more private festivities. She grew disturbed as she watched night shadows mold around the woman. Mr. Evans didn't look behind as he walked into a dank, narrow alleyway. There was something coiled, waiting in the darkness at the back. It's as if the dark had begun to move. Impossible! But, it is and with a slithering sound that made her skin hatch Goosebumps. The thing grows until it reaches all around Mr. Evans and the woman. There is sound coming from the center…the most grisly moans and wails of the damned. To her horror, the darkness began to grab at her father's wrists and ankles as he turned.
Mr. Evans faced his female assailant without any apparent fear. "Call your beast off me, Morgaine."
It was astonishing to view the woman's face transform from pretty Parisian into primitive huntress. At seeing the tall man so securely bound, she cracked a grin of ragged, aged teeth. "But, darling, my pet has missed you so much since your last encounter! Can't you tell?"
Lily gasped as she watched a shred of darkness squeeze her dad's throat. "O-o-oh, yes!" choked Mr. Evans. "H-how couldn't I-I?"
"And, did you miss my pet?" She cackled at his misery.
Cobalt orbs narrowed. "L-l-like I m-missed having a c-c-cold."
"Now, now old friend. That's no way to act towards your comrades."
It was the boy pickpocket! Except now he seemed more menacing than ever in a long black cloak. "After all those years we spent together….Dmitri, aren't you happy to see us?"
Mr. Evans began pulsing with a powerful aura Lily never felt before.
"You know damn well Sergei I haven't had a damn thing to do with you in twenty years!"
"Twenty-three, my friend" he sneered nastily. "I have been keeping track and I'm not the only one you've nothing to do with for so long."
On cue, a small group of people apparated around them from the darkness. Lily couldn't actually see the new strangers. No. She only saw a blanketing mist over their entire bodies. There was no use trying to remove it. If anything, it caused a slight rift that allowed a nose or pair of lips to appear. Lily could do nothing but count. There were at least eight of them.
"Don't I feel loved…" Mr. Evans croaked in sarcasm. The darkness had removed itself from his air tunnel. "All of you getting together in Paris just to hear me tell you that you all are nothing but cruel, no-hearted sons of a bitch-,"
"Crucio!"
The pickpocket, or Sergei, held out an ebony wand over her father's twitching body. His dark eyes were alight with an insane delight at seeing his victim's torment. Lily knew from her Defense against the Dark Arts textbooks that the Cruciatus or torture curse felt like a thousand knives stabbing your body over and over. So even though her dad tried not to show weakness before the cackling crowd, she could see the sheer agony in his blue eyes.
"Stop it! Stop it!" yelled Lily.
They kept going. Why didn't anyone hear her?
"Stop it, I said! Leave him alone! Stop right now!" An innate strength gathered within her throat. "Did you hear me?! I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE MY FATHER ALONE!"
The ground shook as Lily's voice reached an unprecedented pitch of frequency. All of the shrouded figures either lost balance or withdrew their wands. The redhead screamed until the air collapsed in her lungs along with her legs. Panting on the ground, Lily soon came face to face with an ebony wand.
"Well, well, well. Congratulations, princess! You've achieved your first Cry." The wizard named Sergei snarled. "A rather weak one, mind you. See your daddy over there? The one writing in pain? His can paralyze within a kilometer and kill any within a meter. He's just too noble to use it."
"SHUT UP!" roared Mr. Evans. "Lily…Lily, are you okay, darling?"
"Ah, look at that!" crooned another witch from the shadows. "He's worried about his baby girl. Such a family man now!"
Sergei replied listlessly. "Such a weak man now, you mean. I can't say the Master will be pleased with you Dmitri. Reproducing with muggle wenches…I myself thought you could sink no lower. But, you can't help your pedigree, can you princess?"
Lily shakily stood up again. Straightening her shoulders, she tried to appear as Gryffindor as possible. It was a hard image to display when all you were wearing were an old white tank top and pajama shorts. The night cold pierced Lily's pale skin and caused her to shiver. Great! Just great! She'd slept-walked into a scene with neither a wand nor ally. Genius in the making.
"Unfortunately for you princess, we're rather in a bit of a hurry. Sun's almost up, you know and some of us can't handle the heat. So I am afraid this is where we say goodbye." Those dark eyes glittered in a sinister manner. "Permanently. Morgaine!"
The archaic-looking woman threw her head back in a screech, pointing at the unsuspecting Lily. The darkness moved toward the young witch, spreading its claws in preparation to attack. Lily glanced at her father for help. Cobalt blue orbs gazed into emerald green helplessly with anguish. He was struggling to break free…to help her…to protect her.
"Goodbye, princess."
The last sight Lilyanna Evans saw of her father was of him being devoured by the darkness.
Have you ever had a nightmare that you weren't in control of? A nightmare that was so strong it grabbed a whole of you and seemed impossible to shake off. One of those inconsolable dreams where you woke up, shivering and cold, with the sheets drenched with sweat? Well, that was the kind of nightmare Lilyanna awoke screaming from back at the quaint little inn, safe in her rented bed. She screamed so loudly ten other vacationers awoke. She screamed so loudly her sister slammed her head on the headboard when the dogs outside began to yap. She screamed so loudly her throat dried up and eventually she choked on her own spit. She screamed loud enough to awaken an aquamarine-eyed blonde in her Versailles-sized home outside of Paris.
"You know," whispered Lily, staring into her father's eyes, "sometimes I wish you would just disappear."
Mr. Evans grinned forlornly. "Be careful what you wish for. It's rather dangerous for you."
Only when her mum entered the room by herself did the redhead burst into tears. Lily wished at that moment, soon not for the first time, she had a Time-Turner so she could take back all those wicked things she had said. Guilt had that sort of effect on a heart, and hers was of the twisting, burning kind.
AN: Wooohoooo! Go me! Go me! I'll even throw in a "yee-haw!" because I'm a southern girl. This second chapter was actually a bit harder for me to write because I had to decide what details needed to be explored and what didn't. Anyway, I hope u enjoyed it. MAKE SURE TO REVIEW OR E-MAIL ME WITH YOUR COMMENTS! I LUV KNOWING IT FROM A READER'S POV!