the eighth || harry potter

prolouge

OCTAVIA GRACE CLARKE was her given name. The small brunette was named Octavia because it means the eighth. Why the eighth? It was quite unusual name but it held a special place in the Clarke family. Olympia, her mother had a hard time conceiving her. The young couple wanted many children, right after their marriage they immediately wanted a baby. They had an incredibly hard time, between false positives, false hope and one miscarriage, the family felt incomplete. Octavia was the eighth, the one who survived, despite all the odds. Hence the name, Octavia. Olympia and Ethan were overjoyed when they had their beautiful baby girl, She was a small glimmer of hope in the darkness that has been hovering over the wizarding world. Their pride and joy, the little survivor.

The happiness didn't last long however. Ethan was a muggleborn and Olympia was was a pure blood earning her the title of "blood traitor" in the eyes of many dark wizards that were becoming at large. Because of the small families status of being mixed with "dirty blood", they were targeted by the dark forces of Lord Voldemort and his followers. Supposedly he had been vanquished two years prior by a now parentless little boy. That didn't stop his followers from pursuing the family till their death. The Clarke's hid for their daughters first two years of life, moving constantly. Never safe, always watching their backs. Finally Octavia's third birthday rolled around and that's when it happened, the Clarke's were found. The toddler was shoved into a wardrobe to hide and had a silencing charm put on her to make sure she wasn't found. The screams of her mother and the sobbing of the small girl's father haunted her every night. The flashes of green light through the cracks of the wardrobe, still visible when Octavias eyes are closed. The only thing she could remember was her mother's final "I love you." to her father, but even that was washed away. She always found it funny the things you can't remember and the things you can't quite forget. Octavia tried to get the sounds of her parents murder out of her head, but it always came back. Alas here they were echoing through her skull. She was convinced the sound would remain there forever, not a day passed Octavia's mind didn't wander to the warm smile of her mother she could barely remember, or the laugh of her father that was now a distant whisper. As long as Voldemort's followers were alive, Octavia's thoughts would be haunted by her loss.

After her parents untimely death she was sent to America to live with her Uncle Salem who moved their years prior. Octavia grew up on the streets of New York City, in Manhattan. The girl learned magic very young from her strict Uncle, which got the youngest Clarke quite the reputation around the neighborhood. When she turned 11 her letter from Ilvermorny came, Octavia wasn't surprised. She was a witch and a damn good one at that, or at least as good as she could be being underage and using an old American Ministry practice wand. Octavia was fine at the school, excelling in her classes. But something just didn't fit, since her first day things just felt wrong.

Everyone knew her, you could even say Octavia was notorious around the school but yet the girl didn't have friends, at least none she was close with it particularly fond of. Octavia never let her defenses down, she just couldn't open herself up to anyone. She struggled with it all her life. Octavia got her appearance from her mother, long brown hair, warm brown eyes. Even at age 11, the girl was simply beautiful, but not in the most obvious way. Sure she looked good, but in a silent way she had this essence about her. The little things about her made people just adore her, the way she laughed or the way she scrunched her eyebrows when she was focused. The genetics of a Clarke. If anyone was still alive that knew her parents, they would agree she was a spitting image of both. But she would never wish that on worst of enemies. It was wearing on her soul to see an empty vision of her mother and father when she looked in the mirror. The firmness and coldness of her personality came through as a power play while she was at school. No one would figured Octavia Clarke's stone cold heart was just that, stone cold. Something she used so people would go away, and stay away. No one knew she was in the room when her parents were murdered in cold blood, they didn't know Octavia was forced across the ocean at age 3 to live with her mothers brother who always had secrets hidden from his niece. They certainly didn't know that the reason she was so good at spells was because if the girl wasn't, there would be consequences. She learned early on, anything you say or do, can and will be used against you. So she played her part with a fake smile and empty soul. Octavia Clarke, was a human shell of what could have been a wonderful life.