1.2 ARTEMIS | James Sirius Potter

i. 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖋𝖊𝖆𝖘𝖙

one
the welcome feast

        Artemis Narcissa Malfoy is the spitting image of her father. The same scintillating silvery eyes that often makes a quiver of fear run through anybody that looks at her the wrong way. The same soft, white as snow hair which was such a distinctive trait of being a Malfoy, that if Artemis had any hair colour but, her bloodline would definitely be questioned. Unlike her father though, her white locks were often tied back in a French plait, which was her signature look—now discarded for a bob. She'd chopped it all off on the day Scorpius left her.

        By all means they looked alike, though Artemis inherited the grand elegance and effortless beauty from her mother. Her lashes were lusciously long, accentuating how mesmerising the sleek silver of her eyes actually are, plenty to leave you under a trance from a mere glare, never mind a stare. Her facial structure was sharp, pointed and devastatingly flawless, all the girls at Hogwarts curse her for practically looking like a goddess, although Artemis can hardly ever see the fuss. Especially in most recent days. Her cheekbones more prominent, more obvious through the gaunt looking bags beneath her hallowed irises. If you were to peer closely, you'd see the light bruising scattered across her knuckles from bottled up emotions that she couldn't control. The bruising is much better to the tape around her fingers last week. Draco had yelled at her for being so careless.

        However different her physical appearance is now compared to what it was before her mother died, the one constant thing about Artemis Malfoy that remained unchanged, is her tongue. A flamingly rancorous tongue, a prized trait of hers that often gets her caught up in sticky situations, most of them with her father, their tongues as rapidly malicious as each other's—it's as if they stood in front of a mirror, arguing with themselves. Despite all else that might've changed about her, at least her tongue remind as bitter, hostile and snappy as ever.

On Platform nine and three-quarters, Artemis vanished immediately onto the train, ignoring the open arms of father as she abandoned him—Scorpius having run off with the Potters. It pained her to no end. She would've stayed and said goodbye if she had the courage. But she didn't. After hugging her father, she'd expect to see her mother standing healthy by his side, looking as dazzlingly gorgeous as ever with her arms wide open, ready to engulf her children in a farewell hug.  Artemis didn't wish to experience that, so she ran for the train, waving a sullen goodbye to her father.

        Fortunately, her friends were in the prefects carriage this year, after being chosen Head Boy and Head Girl for their final year at Hogwarts. That left Artemis to her own devices and an empty compartment all to herself. Just to be certain she'd have solitude for a while longer before getting to Hogwarts, she troubled herself through placing looks on the door, so nobody else could get in. Even if the Wood triplets knocked, she wouldn't leave them in.

        Besides, one glance at Artemis's depressing facial features would have whoever wanted to bother her scurrying further down the train for happier company.

        Sure it was rather lonely to seclude herself off from her friends—a thing she's done all summer—yet, at least this way Artemis wouldn't offend as many people with her lack of patience and sardonic comments. At least this way, she wouldn't have to face Blair Zabini—she didn't care how terribly cowardly that is, she wasn't yet prepared to face the guilt head on.

        It's not like Artemis wallowed in self pity—well, not much—and cried the entire train journey, she actually entertained—mostly a distraction—herself with practicing a small bit of wandless magic. Before the summer even started and before Astoria Malfoy passed away, Draco promised to teach her the fundamentals of wandless magic, believing that every witch and wizard ought to know how to use their hands, because relying on their wand too much is just irresponsible, reckless and cocky—what would happen if their wand snapped during battle? The lessons soon stopped after she died though, but Artemis being stubborn and ambitious, told herself she'd teach herself until Draco came around.