2𝘯𝘥 𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘳, 𝘓𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘳

"𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, shoulders back, head low, and try to look humble."

Corvin Hadley listened to her mother's words, staring at the large, gloomy-looking mansion in front of her. The girl had never seen a home this big, much less one a family member owned.

The place looked like a ghost house, similar to the ones she imagined when her father told her stories as a child, only now, she did not have ghosts to worry about.

Corvin knew what lurked in the halls of the home, and though she'd never seen them before, the thought of their dark eyes looking down at her was enough to strike fear into her soul.

Rosamund lifted her hand, knocking on the front door three times before lowering it, hoping her younger brother would be the one to answer.

Corvin heard the knocks echo down the hall, quickly followed by frantic sounding footsteps.

When the door opened, the two raven-haired women looked down at the small house elf who looked like he wasn't even tall enough to reach the door handle.

"Miss Rosamund?"

Corvin looked up at her mother, noticing the disappointment on the woman's face when she did not find who she was looking for.

"Hello, Limpy. Is Rabastan home perchance?" The elf furrowed his brows, staring at the younger girl before looking back to Rosamund.

"No, and he hasn't been for a long time. He's in Azkaban, Miss Rosamund."

Corvin noticed the shift in her mother's features when the prison was mentioned. The polite smile she always wore had faltered, now replaced by a look mirroring hurt.

"Is Mother home?"

It was clear the elf was not exactly happy to be talking to her mother, but he seemed more scared than annoyed.

"Limpy, qui est à la porte?" 𝘞𝘩𝘰'𝘴 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳? Hearing the French coming from inside the house, Corvin recognized that it was her grandmother's voice, a voice she had heard for the first time in her life.

She remembered the teacher her mother hired to teach her the language, how she would smack her across the hands with a wooden stick if she mispronounced a word.

Even after all that, Corvin struggled to understand the rapid French native speakers spoke.

Before the house elf could answer the voice coming from the depths of the house, creaking footsteps became louder as the woman drew closer.

The moment she saw the face waiting at the door, her neutral facial expression became a scowl in a fraction of a second.

"Que faites-vous ici?" 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦? The words left her mouth sharply and swiftly, but Corvin managed to catch them still.

"Maman, je veux que tu rencontres-" 𝘔𝘰𝘮, 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵- The woman didn't spare Corvin a glance, cutting her mother off before she could speak another word.

"Je ne suis pas ta mère. Plus maintenant." 𝘐'𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘔𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘕𝘰𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦.

Corvin had learned how much words could sting, and at that moment, she had no choice but to feel bad for her mother.

Rosamund had always expected to be welcomed back into the family's home after the mistake she made. The family's words convinced her of that.

Corvus oculum corvi non eruit.The raven did not pluck out the raven's eye. Rosamund understood it meant never turning your back on family, no matter what they'd done, but as for most cases, Rosamund was wrong.

The woman didn't have time to speak before the door was shut in her face, leaving her standing on the front steps feeling like a fool for even thinking her mother would give her a chance.

Rabastan would've given her a chance. She'd always been his favourite sibling, even when they were growing up. He wouldn't turn his back on her.

"Mum..." Corvin spoke softly, trying her best to snap her mother out of the state she was in. "Do we get to go home now?"

With a sigh, the elder woman turned to her, her facial expression changing once again. Completely neutral. Emotionless.

"Yes, Corvin, we get to go home."

𓅪𓅪𓅪

4𝘵𝘩 𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘳, 𝘏𝘢𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘺 𝘏𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦

Corvin longed for the summers she spent with her father. She mostly enjoyed the peace and quiet of the countryside without having to worry about anything.

Patrick Hadley never forced her to practice violin for hours on end. He never placed books on her head to check her posture. And most of all, he loved her, truly, like a parent should.

A knock on her door caught her attention, causing her to put down the pen her father had gifted to her when her quill broke.

She was sure her mother would throw it away if she brought it home with her, but for now, it was a temporary solution. At least she would be able to write to her mother.

When the door to her bedroom opened, her father entered, sounding a little breathless from climbing the stairs.

"Corey, have you seen Aslan anywhere?" Corvin snickered when she felt something scrape by her legs, the cat scattering out from under her bed when he heard his name.

"Never mind, found him." Her father laughed, grabbing the cat before he could squirm away. "By the way, there's a letter here for you. And dinner's on the stove if you want to eat."

Her dad stretched out his free hand, giving her the letter while simultaneously trying to keep the cat calm.

"Thank you," Corvin muttered, placing the letter next to the one she was busy writing to her mother.

She assumed the letter she received was also from her mother, but when she checked the handwriting on the outside, she frowned. She'd never gotten a letter from someone other than her mother.

The writing seemed a little messier, written with blueish ink instead of the black ink her mother prided herself on using. Corvin's curiosity was immediately peaked.

Slowly, she opened the letter, finding a familiar name written on the inside. Hermione Granger.

How the girl managed to get her address was a mystery to Corvin, until she remembered Hermione's parents lived only a few houses down from her father, something Corvin had mentioned in their first year when she found the girl in the library.

Corvin knew Hermione was brilliant, but she didn't know she was that good at remembering small details.

Her eyes scanned over the parchment, yellowed slightly at the edges, skim reading the letter until her eyes landed on one word. Join.

It wasn't a letter at all. It was an invitation to a Quidditch game. And not just any Quidditch game, the Quidditch World Cup.

Her eyes darted between the words once again, reaching the last bit, which she read out loud. "Meet me tomorrow morning next to your mailbox. Sincerely, Hermione Granger."

Still holding the letter in her hand, Corvin made her way down the stairs, finding her father at the kitchen table reading the newspaper, the cat on the counter eating his dinner.

"What's wrong?" He asked, pushing his glasses up. "Would it be alright if I go somewhere tomorrow? A friend invited me to a Quidditch match."

The corners of her father's mouth turned downward slightly. "Well I don't see why you can't go." His words brought a smile to Corvin's face. Her mother would've never allowed her to go.

"Thank you, Dad." She said as her father closed the newspaper, taking off his glasses before placing them back in their case.

"I do have a question for you, though." Her father said, making Corvin look at him intently, acknowledging that she was listening to him.

"What's exactly is Quidditch?"

𓅪𓅪𓅪

Cassie Speaks!

I hope everyone is liking this so far because I sort of have no idea what I'm doing when it comes to fanfictions ♡

Also, this chapter really signifies just how different Corvin's relationship is with her mother compared to her father.