𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖌𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙 𝖉𝖊𝖈𝖊𝖎𝖛𝖊𝖗

𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊

Medea was a witch. Much like the one she knew from the Greek tales. Medea was beautiful. Medea was rich. Medea was loved. Medea was intelligent. Medea was cunning.

Medea was a witch.

It was everything her parents were so proud of. Yes, she was Slytherin, their own old house. Slytherin Queen by her fifth year at that. It all would've been nothing if she wasn't even a witch.

Medea was beautiful. Her own mother, Cosima Ashiq nee Rosier, was the beauty of their family, and had proudly married into a house descended from royalty itself. But that was so long ago. But they all say she looked more like her mother's ancestor than she did her. Cosima, graceful as she was took no offence. In fact she was even prouder, knowing her history. The chaos that woman caused behind the scenes of upper society was information only the Rosiers were privy to. It was one of their beloved secrets.

Medea was rich. Her father, Arham Ashiq, made sure she never lacked anything. Their manor hid more gold than Draco Malfoy could ever hope to decorate their own with. Always decked in the finest dresses and robes, her bags and holsters the finest leather, the finest oils and fragrances for her hair and skin. It's all she'd ever known.

Medea was loved. She was the crown jewel of both her family's branches. Top of her class. Loved by her peers for her kindness, loved by her professors for her wit, loved by society for her grace. Their finest witch yet. But that was all because Medea was intelligent, Medea was cunning. Medea was perfect.

That's what she thought herself.

She was a witch. She was a witch. She was a witch. She was...a witch.

She felt like she could conquer all of the wizarding world next. Becoming Slytherin queen was barely the beginning.

It was the night of her accession. Everything went great, no one could even contest her right. No one was more worthy, no one was more powerful. No one was like Medea.

She went to bed that night satisfied. Her friends had already fallen asleep before her, the lamp on her nightstand her only companion still awake. After finishing another chapter of her book, she slid it under her pillow and made a move to turn the light down.

Until it went out by itself. She wouldn't have found it so strange, if not the shaking of her surroundings that accompanied it. Medea rushed to open her bed curtains only to find they wouldn't budge.

"Girls, this isn't funny!"

Sure, her and her dorm mates weren't the best of friends, but they liked each other enough to not mess with each other with pranks like this. Matter of fact, they weren't even those kind of people to pull such a farce. Plus, they made a formidable group. Their dorm was armed with the best of the best witches of their generation. Their dorm had the best protection wards raised. No one could have bypassed those, especially not their lousy batch of upper years.

Her bed continued to shake with such a force that after long she only realised she couldn't hear anything from outside. No shouts of panic or scrambling around from her mates that could signal they were suffering the same. It could have been just another earthquake, their location being underground could explain such intensity.

What made her only more confused is why her curtains wouldn't move and why she hadn't heard anything break. Books should have fallen from their shelves already, glasses, inkwells, notebooks from their desks could've been strewn about.

The shaking went on for a few more moments that Medea could only sit on her bed, stumped.

The second everything stilled, Medea pulled at her curtains again and she sighed when they finally moved aside. Her gaze immediately pointed to the other's beds. Still asleep.