The First Signs of a Storm - Prisoner of Azkaban - Book 1

Chapter 33: Follow the Magic

No One's Point of View

They'd never seen something so - grotesque! Not in the disgustingly ugly sense, but more of an unbelievable realisation of what Ellestormé had known all along; she really wasn't one of them. She was something none of them had ever imagined, let alone encountered.
A few fourth years screamed at the sight of the strange witch, who was stood in the middle of the Entrance Hall with her arms pointing to the floor in a forty five degree angle, her bright, golden eyes open and almost inhuman with a thick head of wild, jet black curls that framed her hollow cheeks, hooded lids and pale skin. Aside from her eyes, it was obvious which side of her family she got her looks from. But she still looked like Storm, just with different hair. Her natural hair.
But that wasn't what struck the congregated students who'd been on their way to dinner when they'd heard (and saw) the torches expand and change colour;
It was the harrowing assortment of scars that littered every inch of her skin. Some above her tattoos, and others below. They couldn't understand how she could possibly have so many. And why hadn't they been there before.

Remus Lupin, who'd heard the screams and ran in with his wand out, spotted Ellestormé, the vibrant flames returning to normal as soon as she saw his wand. He was gobsmacked. Lexi hadn't said anything. Unless - Lexi didn't know? But how-
Remus sighed, sending an encouraging smile to her across the Hall, as a few of the Slytherin seventh years entered the circle that had formed around her. Danny Dolohov, specifically. Remus had to force himself to remain impartial until something exploded between them for him to intervene.
     But he was worried for what would happen next - the two Slytherin's were unpredictably predictable whenever their paths crossed.

     Danny Dolohov stepped closer to her, a look of surprise on his defined face as Ellestormé looked down at herself, her wide eyes giving her own shock away at the scars and roadmap of the horrors she'd managed to keep unknown for the longest time.
     "Black." Danny's tone was politer than he had ever spoken to her, his own eyebrows furrowing. Ellestormé watched him with slightly narrowed eyes, the distrust evident to Remus, even across the room. Ellestormé said nothing. "I misjudged you."
     It appeared that everyone, including Ellestormé had not expected such an acknowledgement from the wizard, who offered no more words, but spun on his heel and sauntered off with Marcus Flint and Oscar Greengrass in tow.
     Ellestormé, who was quickly getting tired of the stares, rolled her eyes, scanning the crowd for anyone she knew that wasn't her Uncle Moony. There was no point hiding the truth about herself anymore. It had happened because, she had actually controlled her gifts and not any other reason justified the visibility of her mutilated skin. If sympathy was the price for finally having a grip over what she was capable of, then she would - begrudgingly - accept.
     "Haven't you people ever seen a few scars?" She snorted, a smirk on her face, trying to mask how uncomfortable she felt at having every pair of eyes fixed on her. "Each one is a story. So instead of spreading the bullshit about me, you can ask me - like an actual person."

     None of them knew what to ask her, even if they did approach her. Even Evan Rosier II, Liberty Lestrange and Theodore Nott, who had been on the outer rim of the crowd, shared a look between one another than they too, had just as many questions as anyone: she looked just as her Boggart had done at the beginning of the year.
Although they decided they would not ask Ellestormé because she would need at least a few people who wouldn't treat her differently now the Niffler was out of the bag.
     Especially Theodore who had found her to look even more gorgeous, knowing that she had indeed lived such a colourful, dangerous life. But what the Nott boy felt most strongly for, was that she had such a beautiful personality, despite whatever it was that she had been through.
     As the son and grandson of prominent, yet undetected Death Eaters, Theodore had been ecstatic that Slytherin's newest member, was as far away from the stereotype as anyone, indeed proving that it is not Slytherin that carries the darkness: it is evil wizards who make evil wizards.
     "Come on." Said Liberty Lestrange, leading Theodore and Evan into the Great Hall, Ellestormé already pushing her way through the staring masses. "Let's help her get through this weekend. Then when the holidays start and everyone goes home, she'll be less stressed when she gets time away from this fishbowl."
     Theodore, or Theo as he was known by, agreed wholeheartedly with Liberty, but merely nodded as he followed behind her, his eyes already searching the hall for the sight of that wild mane of ringlet curls. He knew he fancied the exotic witch.
How could he not?
     But he knew he wouldn't voice them. Not after Evan had already recalled excitedly at the kiss he almost shared with her. And Theo - having never expressed romantic feelings previously - could not find a part of him that wanted to admit it. Nothing would be achieved, except for jealousy and bitterness between the two friends, who had know each other since their very first journey to Hogwarts.
     And it wasn't as if Theo hadn't suppressed his feelings before, during that brief few months last  year when he couldn't think of anything except how much he wished Dolohov would pull him into an empty classroom and have his way with him.
     Theo shook his head to himself, pushing the thought away. He didn't feel the need to voice such things as others did. He wasn't interested in parading around his preferences as Liberty, Archie Chamberlain or even Jay Mason of Ravenclaw did.
     And he was perfectly fine with that. It was for him to know. He had no desire to try either. He hadn't felt the feeling with anyone that was reciprocated. And with Ellestormé and Evan, their mutual attraction was obvious.