A story in which Isabella Jenkins shows great potential from a young age. When Isabella's powers first appeared they were aggressive and violent. Her mother was a muggle and was scared and unsure of what to do with Isabella's unpredictable outbursts...
"Hell is empty and all the devils are here," - Shakespeare's The Tempest
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I woke up early on my birthday, January first. Getting changed into a black dress and letting my black hair fall straight down my back I picked up my bag and Ares and headed out of the common room. I decided that this year, I wouldn't wallow in sadness all day. No, that would be a disgrace to his memory, he would want me to be happy. He would want me to be strong, for him.
Dress -
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I made my way down to the Library with determination in my step. Madam prince was the only one in there and the room was silent. She looked at me with curiosity as I came up to her desk.
"Can you tell me where the school Graduation books are?" I asked politely. Madam Prince studied me for a moment before nodding. She led me towards an isle at the very back of the Library and there were shelves upon shelves, floor to ceiling of Graduation books.
"The more recent ones are at the here, Hogwarts only started the books a few centuries ago, any further back, the records are in Dumbledore's office I'm afraid," She said gesturing to the shelves at the bottom. I nodded in thanks. Madam Prince stayed and watched as I search the lower shelves, only to stop at the year 1978. I heard Madam Prince sigh.
"I know what today is Miss Jenkins," She said quietly, I don't think I'd ever heard her sound so gentle. "I understand It must be very hard. I am sorry for your loss, your father truly was a great man...I saw you the other day standing up for Potter towards those Hufflepuffs, Very Loyal of you. It seems you and your father share a lot more than looks, he'd be proud," She said and she even sent me a sympathetic smile. A lump form in my throat and I took a deep breath before forcing the lump back down my throat.
"Thank you," I said quietly before taking the book and sitting at a table. Opening the book I went through the index until I found the Name I was looking for.
Samual Alessandro Jenkins.
Flipping to the correct page I saw a familiar face. Over the summer Mum had shown me pictures of my father and pictures of all of us together before he died on my second birthday. What everyone said was true, I really did look like him.
