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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October of 1976
Hogwarts, Scotland
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Valeris Achlys knew who she was even as a child - or at least what others believed her to be. As far as history can show, the Achlys family had a history of riches. She'd grown up a spoiled picky princess whose only concern was if she'd like the latest broomstick release of the year. She knew others longed to be her - pretty, popular, and pampered. They strived for it - strived to be her. And that fueled her drive. She was the people's Aphrodite - their lovely goddess of beauty. They loved the money, they loved her pretty face, how perfect she always was. But had it been Eris instead of Adonis to disappear, no one would've lifted a finger to look for the "golden girl".
Nowadays, people would cheer in favor of her absence. Eris could be strung on display, noose like a necklace, waiting for the stool she wobbled on to be kicked from beneath her and people would laugh. The golden girl's facade had been ripped to shreds, melting off her green face, evil began to seep through the holes that had punctured the surface. Pretty, popular, and pampered. Terrifying, tyrant, and tormented.
She established herself in such a smart way: one could tell it was her from the particular sound of heels sauntering down the steel. Her dark energy attracted all bugs and insects itching to leach onto her corpse-of-a-soul. Eris only grinned like the devil now. She was cast to Tartarus for all of eternity long ago, and yet she grinned.
Eris had felt eyes on her the moment she'd stepped out of the safety of the library. She'd felt the presence of the shadows riding at her feet. She felt the cold air swipe at her neck, chills running up her spine.
Her dark mark burned. She itched at it to keep it at bay.
She was being messaged to meet with the Dark Lord and his disciples immediately, likely in the Dark Forest. She had no time to explain some half-assed excuse to the Marauders for her immediate exit.
Of course, the portraits always watched and all of the hidden monsters tucked away in the shadows of the castle stalked her about. But as she headed down the stairs as the clock struck throughout the entirety of the castle, Eris felt the cold breeze of another's presence round on her. She clutched her wand tightly in her firm grip, awaiting the impending dangerous threat.
As a child, Eris used to be the most excellent hider in the game of 'hide from mother or await her turning rage'. More often than not, her brother felt the whip bare his back when it came down to a choice between which of the two siblings would carry the burden of their mother's abuse. Once, Adonis had ushered Eris into a hidden servant's quarters behind his looming wardrobe. She would squeeze herself into a wedge behind an awkwardly placed pile of rocks whenever the two siblings knew their mother was coming.
