𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 [𝐣.𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫]

1: 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔞𝔭𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔡𝔦𝔱𝔢

Her strides were never anything less than purposeful, each step reverberating through the cold stone halls. She imitated her father in that way, who needed control above all else. He was a cold man, always 238,987 paces ahead of his enemies and allies alike.

Brigitte Alarie knew the importance of beauty. It was a potent enchantment, one her mother employed with nare a blink.

As more people began to fill the halls, people turned to their friends at the spectacle, their whispers of envy and lust alike.

They either wanted her or to be her.

Veela were native to Bulgaria, but she had grown up spending half her time in France, the other half in England. The Alarie's were a highly respectable pureblood family, though admittedly not a part of the Sacred 28, due to both her parents' French status.

This was before Alexandre Alarie had fallen under the seductive powers of her mother. Among the wizarding world, Veela were hated by mistresses, but more than welcome to wizards, especially under the sheets. Although they were classified as a Being by the Ministry of Magic, they were often considered to be impure by pureblood families.

Her mother had been rumored to have been aphrodite herself in their small town in France. Veela heritage was more common there, despite her powers being the most defined.

Many of her classmates at Beauxbatons had Veela blood, a few were a quarter or an eighth veela, but she had been half, making her a spectacle among spectacles. They were a dying breed, similar to the few remaining pureblood families that shrunk with every year.

At Hogwarts, they were rarer still. In fact, when Brigitte had surveyed the school as the musty old brown hat been placed atop her neatly curled white-blonde tresses, it seemed like she was the only one with noticeable Veela magic.

She would've never chosen to move to England, not when she could've lived the life of comfort and ease at Beauxbatons. Nobody ogled at her like she was some germ on a petri dish, in fact, she had many friends who enjoyed her humor and studied with her so late they could see the sunrise.

At Hogwarts, the whole school, especially many males had been particularly interested in her as she waited for the hat's verdict. She had done her research beforehand and decided that Ravenclaw and Slytherin were good houses. The uniforms matched her cool complexion, too.

Since she was a little girl, she'd wanted to hide. She wanted to wear trousers instead of skirts, shirts at least a size larger to prevent others from staring. However, her father told her it was her duty to walk with her head up, show the world how beautiful she was.

So she strode in, her chin lifted, eyes cold, for she knew what attachments meant. They were useless, as everyone saw her as a little plaything for their affections. Get too attached, and soon you'll see their true intentions.

Her father had been nothing short of charming when he met Caroline, yet as the years grew by, he began to pride her as a little weapon for his plans. Caroline had always been more levelheaded, despite her goddess complexion. She'd helped add an extra inch to her daughter's skirt and braided her hair carefully, tugging out loose knots.

When her hat cried out Gryffindor, Brigitte almost snorted out loud. She knew how to manipulate others into doing her bidding with just one look. She didn't have to her homework at all this year if she didn't want to, she'd get some poor bloke to do it for her. Yet she was expected to join the house that valued heroes and brute strength?

She had cocked her head to one side, her eyebrow raised slightly. Fine. She'd amuse the hat for a little as she joined the red table that cheered loudest, ignoring the way the boys stared at her tightly buttoned cloak hungrily.