⋆𝐃𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠⋆ - 𝐓.𝐌.𝐑

𝟎𝟐𝟑 - 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐘𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐞!

But she was hopeful – foolish girl, don't you know hope's not for you? – that this one might work, the winter equinox was a day of great magical significance and her base principle was rather solid.

The Limbus spell that had been used on her hair was simply a powerful cleansing charm if one peeled away all of the flourishes around its purpose, and it had transmogrified her hair into something far too pure to take root in her scalp. The ritual that had led her to play mute for some two weeks until she could play off its results as those of the "medicine" – was also a cleansing ritual, simply aimed at her voice-

-bloody hell, the eyesight correcting potion she took before first year was also basically a cleansing potion.

Unlike every previous ritual, where she operated upon the base assumption that her skin was her own. Here, her basic principle was that she had been cursed, at some point, by someone. And she intended to undo that curse.

And get even.

Elizabeth's pacing halted as her eyes zeroed in on a garment bag that she had tossed over the canopy of Hornby's bed – her dormmates would've crucified her for the invasion of their space, if they were here, and not in their warm homes with their loving families; spending a wonderous winter vacation. A white-bright streak against the velvet blue sky, the bag contained old ballet costumes that her dance studio would loan out to girls for shows every year – of course, with Elizabeth being who she was, other girls didn't want to wear her old costumes after her, so the studio never asked for them back. Leaving her with an small arsenal of tule tutus and silk bodices – all plain, ever the background dancer.

Granted, over the last week Rosier and Black had hounded her relentlessly about spending Yule at one of their manors – like Riddle was doing at the Malfoys' – but she had refused repeatedly. It seemed wrong, languishing around in a lavish chateau somewhere in the French countryside while Jacques didn't know if he'd survive the next air raid.

She's yet to have a significant growth spurt, but regardless, the costumes would need to be altered – would she wear pointe shoes the entire night? The only other pair of shoes she owned were her uniform oxfords and those seemed inappropriate for the occasion.

Any alteration would have to wait until after the ritual though, while other students were undoubtedly spending the day rehearsing the steps of familial ceremonies thought up long before their parents were even thought about – bathing in purifying baths and generally vegetating; Elizabeth had to invent her own ceremony, and for purification purposes, all she had were the dorm showers and a vision.

A quick Tempus showed her that it was nearly lunchtime, she had already skipped breakfast and managed to get a basic outline down – and she did need some fuel for the magic that was to take place – so, signing deeply, she resigned herself to the torture.

⋆

"What the fuck?"

She had descended down the spiral staircase, with the intent to walk the very simple and straight path from the stairwell to the bookcase that hid the door. Unforunately, she had made the mistake of letting her eyes stray over to the Yule decorations-

-the house elves had put up yule trees in the dormitories last night, she'd noted the garishly decorated affair before going to sleep, and now there was matching yule log burning away at the firepit nestled in the middle of the common room – neither of these facts were the cause for her confusion, though. What she hadn't expected to see upon vacating her hermitage, were presents under the tree – sure, there were other Ravenclaws staying back at the castle. But, they had clearly already gotten to their presents, leaving a mess of wrapping paper around the conversation pit – that didn't bother her, the other presents did.