𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐘𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐒𝐄𝐒.
Eris Achlys believed nothing could save her. She was another puppet waiting to be mastered. A witch crafted from Hades' hands and cast to Tartarus, doomed for all eternity to fail. A talented girl born purely to be used...
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September of 1976
Hogwarts, Scotland
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"Have you ever been in love, Regulus?"
A bored sigh fell out of Eris Achlys' mouth as she picked at a muffin, crumbs falling across the tabletop as she slouched. Classes had been in full swing for a week now and Julius Mulciber had taken to skipping his divinations class to come 'take the piss out of the trio' on their free period.
Eris felt a weight hit her shoulder; Primrose Wilkes, Hogwarts finest from the latest line of pureblood aristocratic elites, leaned against the Achlys heir's arm, blonde hair tied back carelessly and last night's makeup crusted over. She had not returned to the two's shared dorm last night.
"Bloody hell," grumbled Prim, mumbled by Eris' arm she sought comfort in. Her uniform had certainly seen better days, crinkled with lack of cleanliness; her tie fell unknotted, just thrown across her neck like a noose. "I swear I was enjoying myself better an hour ago."
"Does that have something to do with Andres Macmillion?" asked Eris, elbowing the Aphrodite heir, receiving a groan of protest from poking the beast.
"No." Picking her chin up from Eris' shoulder, Prim grabbed at the muffin in her hands, picking a rather large chunk off and shoveling it into her mouth. "Macmillan is old news."
Julius snickered, leaning back, a carefree smile broke onto his face, eyes dazed with contentment. Eris had always found the boy to look intoxicated, perhaps he was - Eris could not be bothered to ask.
"So what's the latest news then, Little Rose Wilkes?" laughed Julius flatly, a smirk pealing up his face. "What did you call him last time again, Wilkes?. . . Young John Trevlata?"
"Travolta." Regulus quietly corrected, earning a look from interrupting Julius and his antics.
"Oh no," Eris replied flatly, digging through her book bag to find her potions essay for Regulus to correct. "He's old news, as well. There was someone else after him - I just can't put my tongue on who . . ."
Eris felt the girl tilt her head up from the makeshift bed she made from Eris' arm, glaring daggers into her soul. She cast her a small glance before turning her attention back to the torn-apart muffin.
