Isis.

You are to come home for the short holiday this weekend.

Signed,

Father.

Isis sighed at the briefness of her father's letter. She remembered how long he had held onto her on her first day at Hogwarts, just before she'd gotten onto the train. He held her hand so tightly she almost winced in pain, and the only reason Isis was able to actually get on the train was because her mother thought that he was showing too much emotion in public. She used to be the apple of his eye, his absolute favorite thing in the world, but ever since the Mistress took over the damn world that was all he cared about. Now he only cared about Isis for as much as she could do for him. And for the longest time, she tried her hardest to please him. She still did. Because sometimes she could still see her father in him, and then it seemed alright. But then he would become consumed by his work. The Ministry. The Mistress. And then Issy's mother wasn't so jealous of her daughter anymore. Then again, she still wasn't getting any attention, but it wasn't anyone's fault but her own. Elladora Dranzer was never the lucky one, though it would seem that her daughter was. Isis was blessed with the looks of a model, with the wit of any man. She proved not to be another spoiled brat who couldn't tell the barn side of a broad. Even the Mistress herself was interested in her, giving her assignments as if she were actually a part of her Dark Force.

The letter crumpling tight in her hand, Isis kept her eyes peeled for her Leonis, who she was once again on speaking terms with. That really only left Tabitha or Ren - Ren. The Raven outwardly winced at the thought of her once best friend. Ren Woodcraft. She had lost her brother at Hogwarts, something that most of the school blamed her for. (Though not without good reason.) And now one of her very best friends probably hated her. But she didn't have much time to mull it over before someone showed their face.

Anglin.

She'd successfully avoided him for the past few weeks, but she supposed that he was bound to crop up sometime. For once, Isis didn't even say a word to him. Her foul mood would only cause her to pull out her wand, and for once she really had nothing to say to him. She simply walked passed him, and when their shoulders brushed roughly, merely spat. "Move it."

Isis had been perfectly content with ignoring him and walking into the Great Hall without a single scratch on either of them. She was fine without taunting him, calling him a mud-blood, or making fun of his bimbo girlfriend who probably couldn't count to ten without taking off her socks and shoes. But apparently, Anglin wasn't.

"You know there's plenty of space in this damn hall, Frost." Of course she knew that. But that didn't mean she was going to purposely watch out for him. If he didn't want her to run into him then he shouldn't have been in the way. And no one stood in the way of Isis Frost. She still didn't say anything. The bastard caught up with her, took one look at her and said, "Oh, are you okay? Did your subscription of Bitch Weekly expire? Don't have any new insults to say? How sad." Once again, though she had a hundred comebacks ready in the back of her mind, she still refused to say anything. Isis knew what her father would say when he found out she'd been given another detention for her use of choice words against other students, but it was hard not to open her mouth and let him have it. Even his pretty face couldn't help her out of her bad mood. But enough was enough.

"So when is daddy Frost going to ask his precious child to find out how to get into PA?"

Isis froze in her tracks, Damon speeding off in front of her. That infamous temper of her's rose to its peak, and before she could think her wand was out, making a whipping motion in the air as she said, "Fuck you. Verberio." Out of her came a red beam of light, a whip combined with a stinging hex. She had aimed for his waist, but had off shot it slightly so that it would probably only catch his feet. That didn't matter to her right now. All she could think of was the red she was seeing, how everything was so quiet yet so loud. When she came to her sense and realized what she had done her face turned into an expression of complete shock.

She'd never cursed Anglin before. No matter how sensitive their bickering got, there was always a playful, sardonic hint behind it. Green eyes locked as she looked at him now, and the Raven nearly dropped her wand as she took a step back. Now her eyes filled with angry tears, just like the ones Avery had gotten out of her. What the hell was wrong with her?

Isis was good with a wand, and it was common knowledge that in order to defeat her you had to either be an incredibly dirty fighter or catch her by surprise. But it wasn't often that she was ever in duels. No one could ever get her temper to go off, no matter how hard they pressed. She always remained cool, calm, and collected, though she usually managed to make the other person's life hell for the rest of their stay at Hogwarts, or until they formally apologized to her. Some underestimated her, but it was times like this when she knew that there was nothing to underestimate. She was good with her wand, better sometimes than even she knew. As her curse reeled out, it struck him on the legs, wrapping around and yanking him to the floor. Isis watched as if from another person's eyes as he fell. It was the first time she had ever hexed him. Ever. People might think that he would be the first person she hexed with some of the things that they said to each other, but it had never gotten that far. Not until now. And he'd said worse things before than what he had today.

"What the fuck was that?" he asked, but Isis couldn't tell him. Her eyes were just wide and almost afraid, but the only thing she was afraid of was herself.

"I-I don't know," she admitted him honestly, using a tone she'd never used with him. One of sincerity.

"You hexed me," he said simply, and Isis took a big breath. Her wand hit the floor clattering noisily, but there was no way she could have held on to it with her trembling hands. You're just like him, Isis. Just as crazy and fucked up as he is.

"I-..." she began to say, but what was there to say? What words could she possibly string together to make this all go away. I'm sorry. No. She would not apologize. Ever. That would mean that she owed him something. That she had been wrong. But she had been wrong. This battle inside of her head went on, as her eyes darted from his leg to those eyes, back to his wand. And then they fell. The tears. They fell down her prominent cheekbones, and she could only stand there for a moment until she realized that Damon Anglin was watching her cry like a baby. Turning around, she went the other direction, running as fast and as hard as she could. She didn't even remember her wand until she collapsed on the floor of a desolate corridor, sobbing as the voices from all around her began to press against her. You hexed me... Just like him. Just as crazy and fucked up as he is.

As she sat there, her back to the wall, Isis began what she called her 'weakness'. Doctors called it anxiety attacks, but it felt so much worse than that. At first it would start with crying, but the she would begin to hyperventilate until she nearly passed out. She was usually able to talk herself down inside of her mind, and she slowly managed to get back down to the sobs. These always hurt because her lungs were so tired. The whole process was not known to anyone - how could she ever publicize her biggest weakness? It was a sign that she was not strong enough. Imagine how that would look in the eyes of The Mistress? It would be her downfall. The attacks started over the break, just after she had killed the Headmaster. Her cousin Bella was so sure that it had been her own curse that had stuck first, but Isis had seen it through a penseive at least a hundred times, and each told her the same thing: she had killed the Headmaster. At first, she had denied it, but after seeing it over and over, watching as the jet of green light hit him in the chest... This knowledge alone was enough for her to go mad, and she didn't need the added pressure of everything else on top of that. Usually she was fine. The attacks only came whenever she was caught off guard. As long as she was in control, everything would be okay.

Between her sobs, she thought she heard a noise, but chalked it up for her imagination whens he didn't see anyone through her tear-blurred eyes. But then it came again, louder, clearer.

"Frost." Isis whipped her head around to see Anglin, holding her forgotten wand. Oh, bloody fucking wonderful. Isis shut up instantly, reducing herself to hiccups. "Here's your wand," he said, and she reached out a trembling hand to take it back from him. She was lucky he didn't keep it and use it for blackmail. His tone nearly killed her. He was trying to be gentle with her. It was the first time anyone had ever done such a thing. "Frost, what's going on?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"Can't you just call me a b-bitch and go on with whatever you were d-doing?" she asked him hopelessly, trying to retain a bit of her dignity. "Save your pity for someone you actually care about because I d-don't want it." She didn't know why she was pushing him away. Maybe because of who he was, or more specifically what he was. How could she let someone like him in? She knew that if she got close to Anglin it would spell disaster for everyone involved. Because she knew that he was just like her, but so different. She had no other option - didn't he see that? Didn't he see that she was a Pure-Blood and he wasn't? They were born to be enemies and that was exactly how they would stay.

Damon took a small, hesitant step towards her. "This has nothing to do with pity. I just want to know what's wrong, Frost. I... I've never seen you like this, and I'd like to gain some kind of normalcy. That won't happen if I just leave you alone without figuring any of this out. I'd put it to some kind of mental breakdown, but I know you're about as strong up there as anyone is at this school." Wow. It was the first compliment that he had ever given her that didn't relate to her body. It felt weird coming out, but Isis got the feeling that it was actually true.

Isis took another deep breath, running her hand through her long black hair. "It's nothing." It was all she said to him before she grabbed her wand, stood up, and with nothing more than a straightening of her skirt, she walked away.


Her father's letter still held tight in her fist, Isis left the Great Hall after dinner and spent a little time walking around. Once again, she had nothing to do. Perseus was busy with his overly clingy girlfriend, of course. Not to mention her cousin had been curiously absent lately, so Isis was quite bored. She began to head down to the Study Hall to finish her work, at first hoping to find Tabby. This, of course, got her thinking about Ren again. Her best friend. Could she still even call her that? Ren had lost someone very dear to her, even though Isis had remembered telling them both about getting out of the castle that weekend. What was her brother even doing there? Isis had warned everyone she had cared about... And now one of her very best friends probably hated her. Isis wasn't sure how she felt about this. She knew that she was supposed to be strong and not give a damn, but after spending six years as her dormmate and best friend, it was hard. Hard enough to bring the emotion into her throat like bile when Ren walked into the Study Hall with only two words for her.

"Good afternoon," Ren said quietly as she passed, a bare attempt at friendliness. Her long red hair was up in a bun, her blue eyes hardly even seeing Isis. Turning away from Isis in her chair, she pulled out a roll of parchment and a quill and then fumbled for a bottle of ink. But her hands were too shaky and the glass slipped and smashed into the table, spilling ink and tiny glass shards all over the girl's paper and lap. "Dammit!" she swore loudly, one hand flying to her pocket in search of her wand.

Isis sat there for a moment, her quill paused in her hand, before standing up defiantly. There was only a moment's hesitation before she moved over to where the girl had spilled her ink bottle. Issy's wand was out quickly, and she whispered a spell that repaired the inkwell, along with the ink inside. "Ren..." she said, trailing off and biting her lip. What did you say in a time like this? "I... I just wanted to," she started, looking away for a moment, "I wanted to talk to you." Isis, proud, beautiful Isis, was showing remorse. There really was a first for everything.

Rising stiffly from her desk to put herself on the same level as Isis, Ren said to her, quite blankly, "Then talk. I assure you I have nothing to say." The thorns dug into her insides. Ren. Her most trusted friend. And here she was, servant to her brother's murderer, for all the other girl knew. She couldn't afford to trust her again. But Isis knew that she wouldn't just walk away. Despite the hardness in her expression, there was a soft pleading there, just barely existent in the tiny quiver of her lip. Ren's fists balled at her sides.

"I..." Isis began hesitantly. This was almost too much for her. Their friendship had never called for an apology before. Didn't Ren understand how hard it was for her to say she was sorry? It wasn't like she had personally killed Rhodri. "I suppose I'll see you later then," Isis finally said, her voice hardly above a whisper. Ren's blue eyes looked away, something that Isis recognized as an attempt not to cry. She knew the feeling. Six years of friendship was slipping away, and she was as powerless to stop it as she was to catch fog.

Moving down the wide corridors, Isis held her wand in front of her - not that she was planning on using it. At least, not at the moment. Her wand was rare - an heirloom from her great something or the other. There was something incredibly unique about her wand in the fact that it contained a whole Chimaera scale. Only one Chimaera had been slain in the past century, making her wand a priceless item. It was fused with a dragon heartstring from a Peruvian Vipertooth. Oh yes, she'd been drilled on her wand's history since the day she had first gotten it - Isis knew it backwards and forwards. In fact, her parents had spent quite a considerable amount of their time teaching her near useless chunks of information - such as who in the Wizarding World had married who, which kids were born first, who's married their second cousin. She knew all of the names, the facts, the details. She, however, had never been taught to cook, and relied solely on others for her food, simply because there would always be someone to prepare her a meal. She had never washed a single dish, nor had she ever touched a broom - for cleaning or for riding. She would rather ride a horse, like a good pureblood. Though she would rather them not be winged. Isis's bright green eyes studied her wand, checking for any imperfections. But it was always as pristine as ever, not a single scratch, as if she'd just gotten it out of the box brand new.

Isis was pretending to do her rounds for Prefect duty, but instead she was merely wandering the halls. If she saw a Raven she knew and liked, she'd ignore the fact that it was after curfew, but anyone else would get points taken off. Walking down a particularly dark passage, she was suddenly aware of a small sound behind her. Whipping her head around, she drew her wand into an offensive position, her heart beating wildly in her chest. Damn! If she wasn't already paranoid enough, she was now! Isis narrowed her eyes dangerously, peering into the darkness. "Whoever you are, you have three seconds to show your face before I start firing off curses. Three," she started, her tone commanding like the girl of status that she was. There was no one in the school, in the students at least, that was 'above' her. Even students that were older had a reason to respect her name - especially those in Raven house, her former Slytherins. Frost was a name of power now, a name that no one could forget. She wasn't just the Minister's daughter. She was a daughter of the Dark Force, Edmund Frost's child. Lowering her wand only to see the person's face, she continued to glare until she saw who exactly it was...