Ravenclaw

Chapter 41- Who I Am

Song for the chapter: This Is Me by Demi Lovato Featuring Joe Jonas

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His birth disappointed all; it was a girl they wanted, not a boy. The couple wanted one child, a female individual who could succeed them, but they had a baby boy, and they certainly were not going to keep trying and trying again, when the prospect of another failure could happen once more.
So he lived his life, hated at home, knowing that his parents cared merely becaues they needed to. They needed someone to make the family proud, and so he was all that should do.
Fast forward a year later, and a beautiful girl was birthed; unfortunately, she was the end of his mother's life, and while though he loathed her not, he couldn't help but place all the anger and blame on her. It didn't faze her; his father continued to loathe him, and his sister followed suit.
His aunt then moved in. People often mistook her as the mother, because of how beautiful she was and how his sister looked like the splitting image of her. Fuelled by the loss of a loved one, they used this advantage,including the poor boy, for power.
The aunt split families, broke hearts, earned much for the family. They were now known by most, though the boy was oten excluded from the picture-- almost no one knew he existed. He kept his last name a secret, ashamed of them and himself to tell.
His sister was raised to be perfect--looks like hers shouldn't be wasted, so after the family made a target to marry into the most noble family known, she was basically raised to do exactly that. Be perfect, not humane.
The father died shortly after everything fell into place; the aunt found the perfect family to split up, but decided to actually settle down; the girl was friends--more like acquaintances-- with the lad she was to marry. But he died, because his son couldn't be what they wanted him to be.
The boy decided to make himself unpopular-- hiding his last name and befriending the worst person at school. His father threw a fit; but he was still human, and stroke got the better of him.
Now was the time to make it right-- he knew that he needed to be better, needed to contribute to the evil that unfortunately spread through his veins by blood. Luckily, befriending the young girl was the one thing missing, and almost all their plans fell into place.
They were on their way to gaining power, and everything they wanted.
Their name was known almost in the whole of Old England. They just needed to pass the last hurdle.
Their name would carry on for ages and will never be forgotten.
Their descendants will be powerful.
The Lestranges was their name.
And the boy who finally made them proud was Ophichus Lestrange, and he was tired of being pushed around.

~

Still fully disguised as Professor Helena Lilac, he stormed across the green fields that had little patches of snow left towards the castle that loomed and towered over everything else; it was such a majestic school, no one could ever compete with it.
Up the stairs to the north tower he went, his appearance slowly changing. He cared not if someone happened to chance upon him wearing a dress-- he'd stun them before using a memory charm. He was great at his skill, his was excellent in magic.
He had finally reached the oak door that had silver hinges and knocked once, twice, three times. It swung open by itself. The passwords have not been set in place.
He walked inside cautiously, in case anyone else was around, then, seeing as it was only Flaura Mae Ravenclaw, he took of the hideous dress to reveal luxurious robes of green and black. His robe was a stunning green, darker than his already dark eyes, and his vest was a silky black colour, showing that he was embracing his family's wealth and power. He wore pants that were tailored by the finest witches and wizards and shoes that must have been imported from elsewhere.
Ophichus meant business this time, no doubt. For why would he be so angry, so elegantly dressed if he wanted more than just what he was?
He walked swiftly to Flaura, who had not done the job of decorating what was supposed to be the Ravenclaw common room, seated at the window, staring and thinking hard of what the future held for her, for Ophichus, for everyone around her. Maybe even her sister.
"Flaura, we need to talk." His voice no onger trembled. It truly was a transformation.
The young woman, who was still wearing a evening blue dress of her sister, morphed back into herself. That was the way Ophichus liked her; in her true form, her beautiful self. His firm façade melted away-- how could he remained mad at the woman he had loved for most of his life?
It had been three days since they had both confessed to each other-- three days of silence and avoiding the other person. Three days of Godric constantly worrying over her, thinking that it must be the wedding that had gotten to her.
For Ophichus, it had been three days of thinking, speculating-- what would he do after Flaura married Godric? Would their plans be ccomplete? Would they be happy? Would he be happy? He knew that for the rest of his days, it would be spent pinning after Flaura as she lived the life she wanted with the man she had set her eyes on for almost forever.
He didn't want that.
"I don't want to do this anymore."
Flaura turned around violently at his words. Anger bubbled and boiled inside her as she took a step towards him. "You can't back away, Ophichus," she said. "You just can't."
She had expected him to back away and falter, like he normally would, but he didn't. He stood his ground, and he was unfortunately taller than her. She fazed him no longer. "What makes you think I will listen?"
He has stunned her to silence, so Ophichus decided to continue.
"I don't want to be pushed around aymore, Flaura. I don't get any sort of benefit from this! What's the point, tell me. What's the point of any of this?!" He was getting angry; Flaura didn't know what to do. He had never defied her before.
"Ophichus... You said you wanted to help me, so this is what you get. You never said anything about benefitting, so there." She paused." This isn't you, Ophichus." Her voice was soft-; Ophichus could feel himself going weak at the knees. But he had to stay strong.
"No, Flaura. This," he gestured to himself," is the real me. Here, now, I am no longer someone you can push around." His voice was soft as well. They seemed to had that effect on one another.
"I'm sorry, Flaura. But until you make up your mind and chosse what is right for you, I can't help."
And just as quickly as he came up to see her, he walked away swiftly, leaving Flaura to stare at the space where he last was.

~