The Slytherin Princess

THREE

A shark poke to Anthraxia's arm woke her. She heaved her eyelids open and looked around.
The carriage was empty except for a patient face inches away from hers.
"Decided to join us?" chucked Hermione.
Thraxia rolled her eyes and grinned. Hermione lifted an arm with a bundle of black cloth.
"Our robes. I took the liberty of getting yours out of your trunk for you. We best be getting changed, the train will be at Hogsmeade in 20 minutes."
Thraxia stood up and smoothed down her hair, trying to remain composed even with the stupor of sleep still in her body. Hermione stood, and slid open the door.
They stalked down the train to the women's bathrooms, each sliding into a cubicle clutching their own respective uniforms. The robes were long and black, and the uniform was colourless. Ah, the colours should no doubt appear when she was sorted into her house! Anthraxia felt the nerves gnawing at the pit of her stomach at the thought. What would happen if she wasn't in Slytherin? Thraxia knew her grandfather wouldn't care if that was the case, but her parents were both in Slytherin. If she was in another house, she could wave goodbye to another chance to feeling closer to them. Wave goodbye to a chance of walking the same parts of the school as they did, sleeping in the same dorms that her mother slept in, even having an inkling of connection to her parents could be lost.
"Thraxia? Are you all ready?" Hermione chimed from outside the cubicle. "We're nearly there!" Anthraxia shook her worries away. Her parents would always be with her, in person if not. A silly house wouldn't change that.
She smoothed down her robes one last time, glancing down at the blank patch where her house would sit. Anthraxia lifted her head to the mirror and stared at her eyes. Her face wiped into a serious, insensate mask. Much better, she thought.
"Just coming!" she called to Hermione.
And smoothing down her robes, she walked back to the compartment.

                                         ~

"Cor, you lot took a while. Never mind, we're here now. Get your trunks, the carriages are here." Ron was dressed in scruffy Gryffindor robes, as was Harry, although Harry's were much newer. She smiled at them both, and took out her wand. Most people were scared of her wand. It was the same as Lord Voldemort's, but instead of the Phoenix feather that was so famously in the centre, Anthraxia's core was that of the Basilisk horn. The wand had been passed down through centuries of her family, and the bone white of the wand's handle shone from use. Harry's eyes widened. He whipped out his wand and pushed past Ron and Hermione. His free hand wrapped around Thraxia's throat, and his eyes shone with fury. Harry shoved her against the wall in the corridor, and pushed the tip of his wand against her chest.
"That's Lord Voldemort's wand. Where did you get that? Answer me; are you working for Lord Voldemort?" Harry was breathing heavily now, irate. Anthraxia paused, the corner of her mouth quirking. Just as she had expected. A small crowd of students had gathered in the corridor trying to get off the train, but stopped by the commotion. Harry pushed his wand harder into her chest, and a sting of pain throbbed just over her heart.
"ANSWER ME, ANTHRAXIA, OR I SWEAR I'LL KILL YOU! WHERE DID YOU GET LORD VOLDEMORT'S WAND?" roared Harry. His eyes were murderous. Suddenly, the pressure ceased and Harry flew back against the opposite wall. A quiet, serious voice cut through the air coldly. The small crowd that had gathered seemed to disperse at the sound of it, and as the students dispersed, a figure emerged from amongst the black robes. A tall boy with pale hair and even paler hair stalked towards the pair, taking in the scene.
"Girl trouble, Potter? Not the first time-oh!" The boy's eyes flickered down to Anthraxia's hand, and a glimmer of recognition bloomed in his eyes at the sight of the wand. He pushed past Harry towards her.
"Where did you get that wand?" hissed the boy quietly. "Tell me. Is it..?" His face betrayed no emotion. Hermione and Ron stood back, both looking nervous.
"It's my wand. Not Voldemort's. It's been passed through the family for decades. The core is Basilisk, not Phoenix."
Harry heaved a relieved sigh, but the boy opened his mouth again to speak.
"There has only been one wand with a Basilisk core and that could only mean one thing.. but it couldn't be.." He reached out for the wand, cold fingers brushing hers as he extracted the wand. A silver snake ring on his hand slid freezing over the back of her palm, its beady emerald eyes staring up at her.
He held the wand in his hand, eyes searching until it met something on the handle.
"Impressive."
He paused, glancing up impassively to meet her eyes with his. The grey eyes bore into her soul, through her empty mask, and hers did too. In the very depths of his soul, she didn't see the commanding presence or the cold demeanour, she saw fear, and .... respect? He didn't seem like the kind to respect anyone, let alone the- oh. That was it. Anthraxia looked down at the hand extending the wand. On the handle, the initials S.S were carved in with delicate letters. Salazar Slytherin. The boy was no doubt a Slytherin; the snake ring spoke for itself. That was why this boy, who seemed to care very little for even the famous Harry Potter, had been even the slightest bit receptive to her. She retrieved the wand, and he was gone.