ᑭETᖇIᑕᕼOᖇ

Prologue

September 1st, 1938

      We live in a highly competitive world, and to succeed, you must embrace your flair, inventiveness, and all that makes you distinct. You must be willing to own your self-assurance and ambition and channel your particular abilities into the life you desire.

The unpleasant yet surprisingly truthful words repeated themselves in the whispers of the wind, never failing to remind Artemisia of her mother's self-importance and cruelty. To most, it would be seen as a mum giving her daughter some much-needed advice, but to the young girl, she was blatantly aware of Madam Lennox's true intentions.

Ever since she was born – twelve years ago to be exact – the insufferable wench detested her only child. Guinevere Lennox had only asked the universe for a couple of favors throughout her life: one being the marriage between herself and the pureblood Alexander Lennox, and the other being a son. Clearly, one of her requests was outright denied. To make things even worse for the new mother, Artemisia began showing signs of advanced magic at the mere age of five. Mrs. Lennox was almost too overwhelmed with how much chaos the girl had already brought. 

Contrary to Guinevere's resentment, the girl's father was positively ecstatic. He was a descendant of Merlin, after all.

Alexander had hoped his daughter would become a mirror image of him, and she certainly lived up to his expectations. Admittedly, he had never wanted to marry his now-wife, but alas, he was simply a pureblood pawn in his parents' social-standing games. Mesia (his preferred nickname for his beloved daughter) inherited most of his traits and looks, including the curly mess of long black tresses, her ability to be both a laughing mess and an expressionless statue, and her remarkable magical abilities. He had no doubt she was as powerful as himself, if not more, and he couldn't feel any prouder.

The dynamic contrast between her parents felt obvious once the eleven-year-old arrived at Platform 9 3/4, her small arms wrapped around the cage that contained her owl, Stout. Alexander was right behind her with her full trunk, mercilessly bumping every child out of the way.

A boy whom she recognized to be Nathaniel Black was pushed to the ground, her father not paying him any mind as the young wizard yelled out profanities. They had been acquainted many times at his family's luxurious New Year's Eve parties. 

Her mother, ever the charmer, simply patted her on the back and sent the young witch off with a, "Don't cause any trouble, Artemisia Lennox!" What a cold woman, she thought - her mind's eye's rolling to the back of her head. Of course that's all she cared about.

Artemisia's father wrapped her up in a hug, sweetly kissing the top of her head and ruffling her already unruly hair before mouthing, "I love you!" as she stepped onto the train.

While she didn't really care about her mother's cold exterior, her heart warmed for her dad's loving goodbye. As the train engine roared signaling its leave, her father never stopped waving until he was out of sight, the train station a blur in the distance as flashes of dark green rushed past the windows.

Making her way silently down the corridors, she intently searched every compartment until coming across one with two young boys inhabiting the interior. She observed each of them, only receiving a couple of glances before quietly taking a seat beside the blonde.

"And just who are you?" The boy rudely blurted out. Seeming to have understood his dishonorable manners, his eyes widened as he quickly rephrased, "I meant - uh - who might you be, madam? And if you don't mind me asking, what is your blood status?"

The other dark-haired boy looked up curiously as if he didn't quite understand what the other was asking. 

The dark-haired boy remained silent.