Fată dragă,
E timpul sa vii acasă.
Loredana Maria Báthory
That was it. That was the entirety of the letter her great-grandmother had sent her.
Come home. It wasn't a request; it was an order from the highest ranking member of her family. Truth be told she knew this day was coming... What, with Victor roaming about London with more alcohol in his body than actual blood, with Emi gone, with no word sent home for months now. She knew what the letter was before she even opened it with trembling fingers and her breath caught in her throat as her family's messenger hawk looked down on her, expecting not an answer, not really, because an answer implied she had a
choice in the matter. A Báthory heiress was lucky to be able to choose her own outfit in the mornings.
Stimată doamnă,
Voi fi acasă pe data de 18. Am nevoie de o săptămână să aranjez să-mi fie trimise lucrurile. Nu trimiteţi pe nimeni să mă ia de la gară.
Pe curând,
She'd need a week to have all her belongings sent to Sibiu. She didn't want anybody picking her up at the train station. That would imply she wasn't able to defend herself. She'd have to talk to the lawyers; dismiss all the staff, sell all but one of the houses, arrange for all her pets to be safely transported. And most importantly: cut off her father. Now that he didn't have the excuse of having to raise her, nobody would stand in the way of her decision. After how the bastard had treated both Emi and herself after-after—And after how he went and completely cocked it all up after Emi. He was as good as dead to her, and one day-one day, she'd return just to put him out of his pitiful misery.
Romania would be better for her now, anyway. And Durmstrang would happily have her, after schooling so many generations of Báthorys. And she could take it now—her training. More so, she wanted it and
it called to her. She'd be great and she'd learn to control her unfortunate outbursts and no one would suspect a thing. A missing peasant or two from the surrounding villages had never been an issue in Sibiu. And the family Maleficium had yet to be truly explored and experimented with. Besides, she'd like to leave her own mark on it... Once she reached the level of proficiency her predecessors had inscribed in the dark book's pages.
Enclosed in the envelope the letter had been in, there were also a manner of parchments that would deal with her withdrawal from Hogwarts and switched legal guardianship over her own person to her great-grandmother. She supposed she'd have to find her father and get her signature. That would be tricky... For all she knew he was dead in some gutter by now. She hadn't seen or heard of him for months now. And neither had anybody else.
Drum bun, cale bătută[1] for all she cared, but she needed that signature and she knew he wasn't going to give it willingly. On second thought, she'd always wanted to try the Imperio ...
With her exams finished and all necessary legal actions and documents dealt with, all that was left was saying goodbye to Hogwarts and to what had been her home for 15 years. But for the latter... She didn't know if she could deal with that truthfully. She wasn't quite sure she'd miss either. Albeit... the entertainment Hogwarts provided would probably not be found at Durmstrang. Pity. There was the sort of entertainment only stupidity and naivety could provide. However, she was certain she would be able to find different ways to entertain herself. "Come Freija, Freyr, we're saying our goodbyes" she said to the two cats -her own, and her sister's - turning around to exit the dormitory.
She lingered in the common room, smiling fondly at the memory of her last birthday party. Shame there hadn't been more blood, would've been so much prettier. Exiting the Slytherin common room she walked slowly along the dungeons corridor, hands clasped behind her back and an easy, playful pace to her walk. She inclined her head to the potions classroom, shaking her head at the many imbecilities she had witnessed in there. On the ground floor, she steered clear of the Great Hall. She'd have her goodbyes at the feast later today. On the first floor, she gave a respectful bow to the door leading to the Defense class, face somber and polite. Good stock, that Professor Storm.
The second floor—she'd just returned from earlier in the day, having dealt with her transfer papers. The third floor had her in a laughing fit as she remembered Professor Kesali and her ridiculous little crush on him what seemed like ages ago. She'd been a very confused little girl, hadn't she? At the abandoned corridor she stopped, humming softly with a concentrated look on her face. She eventually pulled out her wand and placed a little hex to be activated by whomever passed next, just a little prank, nothing too much.
On the fourth floor... She had spent half her Hogwarts life in the library, there was a sort of attachment to the place and she scrunched her nose, pulling a stack of books from her bag. Nobody but the Headmistress knew she was was not going to be returning to Hogwarts next year, and she'd rather keep it that way. There were no good byes to be told to people, because no people mattered enough. She ripped a bit of parchment and wrote her name on it, placing it on the first book of the stack. Checking to see that Mr. Morgan wasn't at the front desk she quickly slithered inside and left the books on the desk. The note said
thank you, as well. The librarian would know why.
The fifth floor received an almost smile. Care would always remain her favorite subject and would hold the most of her very few good memories. The sixth floor was skipped in order to ease her own excitement at visiting the RoR one last time. She was mighty curious to see how it would show itself to her now. She didn't call for anything specific, just the room itself, and when she pushed open the door her heart stammered and she held her breath.
Empty. Completely empty, save for the walls dressed in black velvet, and the portrait of her sister in the middle, surrounded by Majorelle blue roses. It was a funeral. But it wasn't Emi's. She'd done her mourning for her sister and would forever do so, but this was her
own funeral. Sort of. If she were ever to return, she wouldn't be the same Amara, that much she knew. But she wouldn't cry. She had no reason to. She would come back fearsome and ruthless and
better. "Her name was Emilia Báthory and she was
beautiful" she said with a pitiful little smile, barely a whisper. "And she broke my heart" she added, voice breaking in her anger, hands balled into fists clutching at her skirt.
"Well, then... I suppose it's good bye for now" she said, fingers brushing through Freija's soft fur, her purring resonating in the empty girl's dormitory. Her last night at Hogwarts. She wondered if she should leave something behind for people to remember her. Perhaps a body... Now
that was a thought.
[June 2010] Keep me in the dark (Snapshot)