ᑭETᖇIᑕᕼOᖇ

Chapter Six

Artemisia awoke with tears in her eyes, a sickly layer of sweat lining the cool bed sheets. The body odor made her want to hex herself into oblivion. 

Unfortunately, occlumency doesn't work when you're asleep so a flood of emotions hit her like a ton of bricks the moment she gained consciousness. 

It was just a nightmare...

She had yet to have one for many years now but her beloved friend's sudden death stopped her stroke of good luck right in its tracks. The small girl with long, knotted black hair and too big glasses. Gone.

It wasn't fathomable. Still, she couldn't accept the untimely death. She was too young. But, there was nothing she could do. She didn't have the power to raise people from the dead, let alone ask her what had happened.

Myrtle Warren was dead. And however much it hurt, she had to accept it.

Actually - no, she wouldn't. She couldn't. Artemisia would do everything in her power to find this murderer and bring them unimaginable pain.

She would rip them limb from limb until they were a bloody, mushy pile before her.

It was the only way she could think to honor her fallen friend and the only way to tame the ever-growing rage building up like a dam ready to burst.

But there was no time for wallowing in rage when school was still in session.

A slimy, wet tongue helped to wake her up. With everything that had been going on, she had completely forgotten about her beloved present from Nathaniel. Somehow, the gift didn't seem nearly as exciting as it was when she first saw it.

"Frost, not now... please." The small creature continued to crawl all over and tickle her awake. "Frost, please! Just a few more minutes." But it wasn't listening. The Jarvey was hungry and did not have an ounce of care for its owner's sadness. You really don't want to keep an oversized ferret waiting, especially after their first night with you.

"Hobknocker!" The creature spit - upset that its new owner refused to comply with its wishes. Its sharp teeth glimmered in the dim light, its collar shining brighter than an evening star.

Finally, she arose and put some food and water down whilst casting a few charms to make her eyes less baggy; as well as making sure her hair was perfectly curled and knotless. Even for an exhausted witch, she always cleaned up nicely.

The burdon of being a pureblood, most would say.

The halls were gravely quiet; even Lucinda chose to give her friend some much-needed silent time. Artemisia was prone to accidentally giving off an unnerving, hostile aura whenever she was in a sour mood - and every student at Hogwarts steered clear as they were patently aware of the friendship between the young Ravenclaw and Slytherin Queen. It was obviously not common to see such a high-up, wealthy pureblood conversing with a Ravenclaw muggle-born. Therefore they always happened to have many eyes following them everywhere they went. No one wished to bring up the death anywhere near the explosively deadly witch.

Even with her slow, calm steps and blank expression, not a single soul could miss the menacing atmosphere that surrounded her like a large bubble waiting to burst. Dark hues of black and blue danced and intertwined to form a devastatingly beautiful eruption, one that no person could even think to antagonize in fear of their faces turning to stone or their limbs into puddles.

Whilst the professors adored her that didn't mean the student's did. If they were polite to her, it was most likely due to her beauty and popularity. Otherwise, their fear successfully kept them far away with no intention to speak to the witch. Of course that didn't stop her rising popularity - quite the contrary, actually - it just made her seem more mysterious and intriguing.