𝑮𝑹𝑬𝑬𝑲 𝑻𝑹𝑨𝑮𝑬𝑫𝒀 [𝑺𝑰𝑹𝑰𝑼𝑺 𝑩𝑳𝑨𝑪𝑲]

o.

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ORESTES: Never shall I see you again.

ELECTRA: Nor I see myself in your eyes.

ORESTES: This, the last time I'll talk with you ever.

- Electra, Euripides

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Sing, O Muse, of the loveless girl,

trapped in the coldest of homes, and pushed to the side.

That brewing hatred, home-breaking, heart-shattering fury,

the mark that never leaves; the will of Zeus still follows,

as the Fates twist their fingers around her thread.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Mr. Ollivander peered at Phaedra Malfoy, raising one bushy brow and clicking his tongue slightly. He handed her a wand, shaking his head and reluctantly placing it in her hand as though it physically pained him to do so, "Eleven inches, unyielding. Beech wood with a dragon-heartstring core."

Phaedra looked up at her father nervously - he stood less than a foot behind her, and he nodded for her to continue. None of the other wands had worked yet - she had destroyed nearly the entire shop, and though she knew it would merely take Mr. Ollivander a flick of his wrist to clean, she still felt more than a little guilty - and more than a little embarrassed. Behind her father, Lucius gave her an encouraging nod - a small smile played at his lips.

The youngest Malfoy wrapped her long fingers around the wand and swished it elegantly in the air, sending a stream of emerald sparks into the air. They floated down to the ground, crackling lightly when they hit the dusty floor. She looked back up at her father, who nodded, a small, pleased smile on his face - and then to Ollivander, who tilted his head and furrowed his brows, studying the girl.

"How very curious," Ollivander mused, raising a hand in the air as if to take the wand back from the girl, causing her to pull it slightly closer to her chest, "that a witch such as yourself has been chosen by a wand of that wood."

"What does that mean?" Phaedra's older brother stepped forward, his lips curling into a slight sneer as he regarded the older man. Ollivander looked at him, his eyes widening and brows raising; the old man shook his head and plastered a fake smile on his face, "Nothing, nothing. Seven Galleons, please."

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First Year

"Hey," Sirius nudged Phaedra's bicep with his elbow, and he gave the girl a soft smile, "don't worry. You'll be in Slytherin, for sure."

"I'm not worried about that," the youngest Malfoy had gone slightly green half-way through the boat ride across the lake to Hogwarts, and the intensity only worsened the closer they grew closer to the docks. Sirius rolled his stormy grey eyes - ones that reflected the way the moon shone through the clouds, and he gave the girl a soft, reassuring smile, "You're a bad liar, Phae. Look on the brightside - we all know you won't be a Hufflepuff!"