Ascendio - Book 1

Chapter 9 - Crescentia

One week later.

I couldn't really believe that I had been avoiding my brother for a week. It had been a really, really long week, but I made it. I think I've almost gotten used to being ripped in half.

It wasn't really that hard to do... I had most of my classes with his house, but I made sure to get seats farther away from him. I tried my best to just not think of him.

"How is that working out for you, Cress?" Oh, well, I don't know the word to describe it, but I would go with absolutely horrible.

Tristan seems to be following me around like a concerned mother, with "Are you okay?"s and "Do you need something?"s. It would be cute if I wasnt broiling over Chandler and his... Betrayal? I can't think of a good word for that, either.

I don't feel like a Hufflepuff. I feel bitter and angsty and hurt... I'm sure that Hufflepuffs don't act like this. I feel like... Like I'm as much of a Slytherin as my brother. And that hurts, so, so much. Because if I was a Slytherin, she would never forgive me...

It doesn't help that today is the day it is.
----
Violetta C. Herbwick lived down the street from us when we still had a house in southern England. Being the only kid around Chandler and I's age, we would play with her all the time and got rather attached to each other.

To this day, I still think she was crushing on Chandler (which is a bit weird, since he's my brother), and that he might--just might--have been crushing back. It didn't matter though--we were practically babies back then.

Exactly seven years ago to the day, Violetta died.

Back then, it was really only shortly after the Dark Lord's demise. His wizarding minions still prowled about, and three four-year-olds were about to have an unpleasant meeting with one.

"Violetta!" I shrieked playfully, dashing down a hill layered in grasses. We had a summer country house, and had invited Violetta to stay over for a few weeks.

Violetta laughed as she tumbled down the hill to land by my side--her long, black, ringleted hair was covered in grass and had a few flowers stuck in it from when I had tried to do it up, like the fashionable ladies in England. Even now, I can clearly see how she looked. So much more beautiful than I was then or am now, and so reckless, too--all I wanted to do was please her. For a second, I can envision her as my age--just a little bit short, with hair down past her waist threaded with little braids. She was half Asian, half English--and just a bit too 'big' to be considered thin. Her clear blue eyes sparkling with laughter at a stupid joke I had just told her, nearly dropping the pile of textbooks she held precariously in one hand, while playing with her Hufflepuff house tie in the other.

Chandler shuffled down the hill to stand above us. Back then, whenever he could, Chandler liked to loom above us with his cold stare and just-too-long hair that kept getting in his eyes. Violetta and I let him do it--he didn't really get to express self confidence often.

I plucked a flower out of Violetta's hair and tucked it behind Chandler's ear, giggling. Then, while he tried to tug it out, I grabbed Violetta's hand and raced into the sparsely-wooded forest behind the house.

My mother had once told me that plants were magical things--of all of them, forests were the most tricksey. But I didn't expect the sudden fog that loomed through the birches and sweet smelling flowers, turning everything dark and muddled, like a nightmare that you can't quite make sense of.

Violetta stood strong beside me, while I, to be perfectly honest, huddled my four-year-old self behind my much stronger and braver friend. Out of the gloom, a shape emerged, and I wished I had a wand like my parents--or even some trick from the Weasely's branch down the road.