𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐒 | "Doom; fate" the personified spirit of impending doom, who drives mortals to their deadly fate.
Esmerelda thought she had left all those feelings of pain and suffering behind once the Second Titan War ended, but another war was brewing...
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▬▬▬▬▬ CHAPTER FIVE ▬▬▬▬▬
"SHE DOES KINDA LOOK LIKE Bellatrix Lestrange, in a way..."
"You think she was the one who helped Black into the school two years ago? She is his daughter after all."
"I heard she staged her kidnapping all those years ago!"
"You think she kills Muggles on her spare time?"
"My father says to stay away from her, he reckons she's a junior Death Eater."
The potions classroom was full of whispers and class had barely started. The second she walked in to find a seat, everyone was glancing at her and muttering rapidly to their friends.
At least they had the decency to whisper, Esmerelda thought miserably. Though it sucked that she had such sharp ears because she could literally hear every word they were saying. They seemed to think that she was some sort of monster—even her own uncle believed it...
Well, to be fair, they weren't very far off. She had killed innocent mortals during the Second Titan War, she had controlled her uncle, let her siblings die, and done many other horrible things. It was no wonder people hated her, she was the worst.
She shrunk into her seat, letting the whispers flood her mind just as Snape cleared his throat to call for everyone's attention.
"As you all probably don't know," he began, his eyes sweeping throughout the class of fifth year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. "Next June, you will be sitting an important examination, during which you will prove how much you have learned about the composition and use of magical potions. Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an 'Acceptable' in your O.W.L., or suffer my displeasure."
Esmerelda was too busy trying to ignore everyone's existence to realize that he was staring at her when he said this.
"After this year, of course, many of you will cease studying with me," he went on. "I take only the very best into my N.E.W.T. Potions class, which means that some of us will certainly be saying goodbye."
Well, she certainly wanted nothing more than to say 'goodbye' right now and just Mist travel away.
"But we have another year to go before that happy moment of farewell," he said softly. "So whether you are intending to attempt N.E.W.T. or not, I advise all of you to concentrate your efforts upon maintaining the high-pass level I have come to expect from my O.W.L. students."
From what Regulus had told her, O.W.Ls (Ordinary Wizarding Levels) was a standardized test every fifth year took. It not only determined if you were able to continue taking a particular subject for the next year, but it also determined whether you were suitable for obtaining a profession that you were aiming for.
