The Secret Cousin

Chapter Nine: The Pull of the Dark

It was nearing the week of the Banquet and coincidentally Emalia's twelfth birthday. Violette and Fleur were sitting in the dormitory discussing what they were going to wear; with all that had happened over the past two weeks Emalia had honestly not even thought about it, let alone try and find something to wear for it.

'Emalia' called Fleur 'Are you even listening to us?' 

Emalia snapped out of her thoughts and grinned sheepishly at the two girls sitting in front of her. Violette groaned and rolled her eyes 'You have nothing prepared for the banquet, do you?' Emalia blushed and shook her head 'No but I will. I just need a few days.'

Fleur laughed at her 'Oh Emalia, what is going on in that strange little head of yours!' 

Emalia shook her head again. 'Nothing; I just have to finish off an extra assignment for Professor Guinevere.' She said turning to leave 'I'll catch up with you later! Save me a seat at dinner.' She called back as she ran off before Fleur or Violette could stop her.

Emalia ran straight towards the owlery; she was desperate. She had to write to Albus and ask him to send her one of her simple dresses that was in her wardrobe at home. She had nothing better and there was no way an ordered dress that would reach her in time for the banquet. 

She found Griffin, grabbed a quill and parchment from the pocket in her robes and quickly scribbled a note begging Albus to send on one of her dresses.

She decided to include some news about how she was and what she was getting up to as well to fill up the letter and once she was finished she tied her letter to Griffin's leg gave him a quick pet and said 'Fly to Hogwarts and find Albus as quickly as you can Grif.' He looked at her and hooted happily and flew off into the sky.

Corisande was in her office transfiguring matchsticks into fine dainty ornaments for the banquet. She was content. She could never really remember the last time she felt this way. It was before Robert died but now the pain she felt after he died was nothing but a distant memory.

But she still had this nagging feeling like she had left something undone. Like the other shoe had yet to drop. Nothing was ever simple being part Veela. Corisande sighed, she was fed up with everything to do with her Veela side. She could not even bring herself to grade the essays that her students had handed to her; and she had yet to set out her papers for the upcoming exams.

Although she had been feeling happier and more content with herself recently, she found herself more tired than usual. She also found herself losing periods of time. It always happened to be when she was in her compartments in the evening time. Corisande chalked it up to being tired and concluded that she was taking short naps unbeknownst to herself.

Corisande got up from her desk and walked over to the mirror and looked into it. She looked haggard; her face was pale, paler than it usually was, in fact she looked terminally ill. She could not look for exceptionally long. 

Her vanity could not take it, another con of being Veela. She felt like she was half a person without her looks, her vanity was immense. Something she noticed that Emalia lacked, she was humble and never acknowledged her looks, it was as if she was oblivious to them.

That was what Corisande resented, her beauty. She wanted to go back, change the way she acted. If she had not vowed to help Aven and Oliver then she would still have her youth, her love and her beauty. She would not be a woman turned bitter by lost love, stolen youth and a long-forgotten beauty.

It was these thoughts that planted the seed of resentment and ill feeling towards a young girl who had had everything stolen from her. It was irrational, but right now Corisande was irrational, she was descending into madness without realising it. The other shoe was about to drop.