Serenity (A Wizarding World FanFiction)

2. MY LITTLE BIRD.

Every time Adrienna walked through the grand halls of Château Josephina, she felt a sort of heaviness in her chest. Portraits of long-departed family members lined the corridors, their eyes following her as she made her way through one of her many ancestral homes.

House elves and members of staff bowed as she passed them, their eyes averted. It was a sign of respect, she supposed. Although she felt undeserving of it.

Some time ago—when the war had just come to an end and the world had plunged into chaos and uncertainty—Nicolas Flamel had asked her what she saw when she thought of their legacy. Her answer had been simple: Greatness.

Yet every time she walked through these sacred halls, all she could think of was how far she'd strayed from the path her forebears carved out for her.

How great it must be to have your own mother clip your wings and pull your feathers, echoed a voice inside her head. To be a lifeless bird made to sing in a golden cage.

The weight of her family's legacy bore heavy on her shoulders, and she couldn't help but feel the gaze of past generations scrutinising her every move. This house was her cage, however magical it might've been.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

Once she arrived downstairs, the door to the gardens creaked open, revealing a burst of vibrant sunlight and the scent of blooming flowers. Adrienna took a deep breath, preparing herself for the luncheon awaiting her. And for the ultimate trial of her fate. As she walked down a path, the hedges and vibrant blooms seemed to close in around her.

Adrienna looked out into the distance. Seated at the elegant table beneath the sprawling branches of a centuries-old tree were seven people, each engaged in conversation with one of the others. She saw her two younger sisters, Josephine and Marianne, talking to Castor—though Marie seemed rather preoccupied braiding something into Jo's hair (all while Josephine, in turn, seemed all too eager to speak to Castor alone).

Joseph Flamel, Adrienna's grandfather, sat on one end of the table. After all, he was still the head of the family. On the other end sat not her father, Gabriel, but rather her mother. Her father had been unwell for years and Adrienna had learned not to ask too many questions about his condition. Instead, she'd simply been a spectator of the slow demise of Gabriel Flamel—once a loving father, now a hollow reflection of the man he used to be.

And the worst part of it all, she reminded herself, is that it is all your fault. It was a thought she dismissed forcefully.

Upon returning her gaze to the scene, it did not take Adrienna long to identify the man sitting beside her grandfather. The current head of the esteemed House of Rosier, Monsieur Romaine Rosier (who, oddly, preferred to be called "Ronan"), was a tall man whose presence she'd always found commanding. However, the man seated at the table now had strayed far from the man Adrienna once knew. Where his jet-black hair was once meticulously combed back, its present state could only be described as unkempt. And while he used to carry himself with flawless grace, Adrienna had started to notice the way his shoulders had begun to slump ever so slightly in recent years.

It was a sad thing; being made to watch while the grief consumed every fibre of his being. At least it was something Adrienna could relate to; she'd only ever been grieving herself.

In any case, Adrienna was glad Castor and Pollux took after their dad. Both of them had inherited his dark hair, and Pollux carried himself with the same kind of effortless elegance his father used to possess (he'd also inherited his arrogance, but Adrienna knew not to think that aloud). Castor, on the other hand, seemed to always be apologising for the space he took up in the universe—as if he was not in possession of the kindest, most selfless soul to ever exist. A heart as pure as his deserved to be loved indefinitely.