Fresh Meat
1 September 1973
Alice Laurent had been seeing her children off to school for almost twenty-two years. This was the first time that she would send them off without her husband at her side. The platform was bustling with parents and students, all lugging around trunks and pushing carts piled high with owl cages and cauldrons.
Violette looked around at everything, and the massive steam engine sat on the tracks ahead of them. It was bright, crimson red, and charcoal black, and beautiful. She used to get excited to go to school, eager to pack her bags and see her friends again. She looked around at everyone, and saw how they all seemed to know each other. She didn’t know anyone, save her brother, and how sorry was that?
“You two ought to get going now, I think.” Alice told them, and she planted kisses on both of their heads, “I’ll miss you. Look after each other, and write to me often, and your sister. I’m excited to hear about all of the fun you’ll both have.”
“But, not too much fun.” Juliette, pursed her lips playfully, then let out a light chuckle before hugging her siblings goodbye.
“You’ll be just fine.” She said into Violette’s ear.
Alice’s heart was heavy watching her two youngest board the train, but she was grateful to have Juliette by her side.
“Is that father’s jacket Theo’s wearing?” Juliette asked, tilting her head.
Alice gave a melancholy smile, and it warmed her cheeks for a moment thinking of her husband. She nodded.
“He’s starting to look just like him, I think.” Her daughter said, and they both stared on for a moment. Alice squeezed Juliette’s hand and turned to her.
“We’d better be off.” And the two of them left the station.
The train was crowded, filled with students all excited to see each other again. Everyone weaved around each other, searching for empty carriages and places to store their trunks and bags. As Theo and Violette walked down the train corridors, each and every eye on that train found them and stared. It was a strange sight to see, two new students. Both of them were dressed nicely, Theo in a button down shirt and brown leather jacket, and Violette in a black turtleneck and dark plaid skirt that went down to her ankles. Where they walked, the sea of students parted, giving them an open aisle to pass through. Some people turned to whisper to each other, “Who are they?”, and , “Are those the Laurent’s?”
Theo walked proudly with his nose in the air, thinking he was so above all of his new peers. He came from Durmstrang, he came from France, he was a Laurent. Violette, on the other hand, felt small. She stayed close to her brother, and knew that wherever she walked, there would be no possible way to hide from the stares. As the aisles got narrower, and more crowded, Theo slowed down, reaching his arm back for Violette to take his hand in case they might get separated. She didn’t hold his hand, instead, she grabbed a hold of the small of his jacket sleeve.
“Laurent, isn’t it?”
Theo stopped, as did Violette. A boy, who seemed to be around Theo’s age, stuck his head out of one of the carriage doors. He had hair so blonde that it was practically white, and he spoke with a very posh and proper accent.
“Lucius Malfoy.” He said, shaking Theo’s hand. “Come, we’ve saved a place for you in our carriage.”
Both Theo and Violette recognized the name, Malfoy. When Lucius stepped aside, the two of them entered the carriage, with Violette still staying close to her older brother. They sat down, and the train started to rumble, departing to Hogwarts. Across from them sat the boy, Lucius, and two others.
“Louis Rosier.” Said the boy who sat in the middle. His hair was blonde, and he had a charming smile. He wore a black shirt and jacket, and his shoes, brown loafers, were freshly shined.
“Rosier?” Questioned Theo, “I think we may be cousins.”
Louis chuckled softly to himself, “My father mentioned that. Your mother is a Rosier, I hear. How come we’ve never met before?”
Theo shrugged, “I don’t know.”
“Vous parlez français, je suppose?” Louis asked.
You speak French, I presume?
“Oui, bien sûr.” Theo scoffed.
Yes, of course.
The other boy grinned, slowly leaning forward to shake Theo’s hand. He had dark hair, almost black, and eyes as blue as the deepest oceans. He was the same age as the other boys, but seemed older by the way that he carried himself.
“Dolohov. Antonin Dolohov.” He said, shortly.
Theo shook his hand, and narrowed his gaze as he sat back.
“Русский?”
Russian?
Dolohov gave a smirk, crossing his arms. He nodded, “Да.” Yes . “У тебя акцент настоящего аборигена. Где ты учился?”
You have the accent of a true native. Where did you learn?
“Пять лет я изучал его в Дурмстранге.”
For five years I studied it at Durmstrang.
Dolohov nodded, slowly, “I see. Impressive.”
“English, French, and Russian.” Malfoy scoffed, “Is there anything else you speak?”
“The only other language I’m fluent in is German. Other than that, I studied Latin and Ancient Greek.”
“Multilingual.” Rosier smirked, “Like a true royal.”
“Shall we call you Prince Theo ?” Dolohov joked, and the boys had a brief laugh. “And, what about this one?”
Violette looked up to see all three boys staring at her.
“Princess…”
“My name is Violette.” She said, quietly, and she toyed with her fingers in her lap.
Dolohov sat back, tipping his nose up and grinning. “ Princess Violette, then.”
Violette furrowed her brow, scrunching her nose, but she did not want to come off as rude. “Hm.” She cringed, “Please, just Violette.”
The boy shrugged, “Alright. Just Violette then. Вы тоже говорите по-русски?”
Do you speak Russian, too?
“No, she doesn’t.” Theo said, answering for her, “Only English, French, and German.”
“Right. Only .” Rosier nodded.
“Tell us about Durmstrang.” Malfoy sat back, “I hear it’s tough out there. I’m sure Hogwarts will be child’s play for you.”
“Luckily you’ll only have to endure two years of Hogwash.” Said Rosier, tilting his head back and groaning, then he sat up, “Oh! Did I tell you boys yet? Guess who wrote me this summer?”
“Who?”
“Belinda Parkinson.” He told them, and Dolohov and Malfoy both scoffed, rolling their eyes. “Sprayed the note with her perfume and everything.”
“Who’s Belinda Parkinson?” Theo asked, and all three boys smiled, chuckling and shaking their heads.
“Oh.” Dolohov said, “... I think you’ll get to know her soon enough.”
While the boys all got to know each other, Violette stared out the window and wished that she could pull out her book to read. She tried to tune out their boyish conversation. Theo was turning sixteen that year, and presumably, the other boys too. They chattered about girls, and quidditch, and parties, and Violette had no interest in any of it.
Finally, they arrived, and it felt good to get up and walk around. Still, Violette stayed close to Theo, but not so much to need to grab onto his jacket-sleeve. It was dark out by the time they’d made it to school, and Violette looked up, and it was like she could see every star. The forest air was cold and crisp, but refreshing after being on the train all day. The boys led Theo and Violette to the carriages, and as they boarded them, Violette noticed the creatures pulling them. She’d never seen anything like them before. Horse-like animals, black and boney with wings. As they pulled the carriages up to the castle, Violette couldn’t help but stare, but to everyone else, she must have just looked a little bit dazed out.
During the ride, the boys talked about the sorting ceremony.
“You’re sure to make Slytherin, I think.” Louis them.
“I agree.” Malfoy added, “Only the best are sorted into Slytherin. A Laurent in Slytherin only makes sense.”
When they arrived at the castle, it was time to part ways with the boys. Theo and Violette were taken through the giant halls where the walls were covered with moving portraits and paintings. They were led by a woman named Professor McGonagall, and she was a tall, older woman. Her robe was a velvety blue, and beneath was a long black skirt, and a white button-up blouse. The woman took them to a room that was situated behind the Great Hall, and she told them that it was where the teachers would enter from for feasts and dinners. The room was small, lit by a few white candles. On wooden tables sat books and binders, and a cauldron or two, and one wall had hooks hanging out of it to hang coats.
“Here we are.” McGonagall said, and she had a pleasant voice and a Scottish accent, “The Headmaster should be with you in just a moment. It’s been lovely to meet you both. Now, if you would excuse me, it’s time for the first years’ sorting ceremony.”
When McGonagall left, another door opened, and in walked a man who appeared to be far older than her. His beard was long and white, and the wrinkles and dips in his face suggested very old age.
“What a pleasure it is.” He said, his voice savory and comforting like a homemade stew, “My name is Professor Dumbledore, I am the Headmaster here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”
They shook hands with the man, “Thank you for having us, Headmaster.” Theo said, “It is an honor to attend such a legendary school. My name is Theo Laurent, and this is my sister, Violette Laurent.”
Dumbledore turned to Violette, and although he knew of her affliction, he did not think about it.
“My.” He said, “You look very much like your mother. And you, Theo, I hear you are the spitting image of your father.”
“I’m lucky to say that I am.”
“Well,” Dumbledore nodded, “... we will get you two sorted pretty soon, here. Before we go in though, I would just like to say… I know about what you and your family have been through this past year. Your mother has informed me of all of it, and you have my deepest condolences. Please know that here at Hogwarts, you will both be well protected. Help will always be provided at Hogwarts.”
“We thank you, sir.” Theo nodded, firmly, “Truly. We appreciate your commitment to our protection.”
* * *
“Oi, Pete,” Snapped a boy with curly brown hair, and round glasses, “... I’ve got letters from Remus, letters from Sirius, and absolutely nothing from you.”
Peter shook his head, frowning, “I was grounded.”
“For what?” Remus asked.
“I-”
Sirius leaned forward, “His sister snitched on him. Told his parents all about the dirty magazines he hides under his bed.”
James and Remus laughed, and Peter buried his face in his hands.
“Under the bed?” James caught his breath, “Rookie mistake, Pete.”
“Where do you keep yours, then?”
The boy puffed out his chest, “I keep mine where my lunatic sister won’t find them.”
“You don’t have a sister, Potter.” Remus scoffed, crossing his arms and leaning back.
“Exactly.”
Dumbledore cleared his throat, calling everyone’s attention to the owl lectern at the front of the Great Hall. “Hello students, and welcome to another year here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Congratulations to our first years who have all been sorted into their houses. Those who sit around you now will be with you for the rest of your time here, and perhaps, for the rest of your lives. We have a few orders of business to cover before we begin our annual welcome feast.”
“Where do you keep yours, Black?” James whispered.
“I don’t keep dirty magazines like you all.” Sirius said, “But, I’ll tell you where I keep my stash of photos of James’s mum.”
Remus and Peter chortled behind their palms, and James playfully shoved Sirius.
“I’d keep pictures of your mum, but I’m afraid I’d get nightmares.” He retorted.
“As well as our first years,” Dumbledore went on, “... we have two additional new students joining us this year.” The door by the end of the teacher’s table opened, and out walked the Laurent siblings. They stood by the owl lectern as Dumbledore introduced them.
The four boys, as well as the rest of the congregation, went quiet at the sight of them. Sirius looked up at Violette, and noticed how she fiddled slightly with her fingers.
“Theo Laurent,” Dumbledore said, “who will be joining us as a sixth year student, and Violette Laurent, who will be joining us as a fourth year.”
“New students, aye?” James whispered, “She’s got a pretty nice face on her, don’t you think?”
Sirius shrugged, “I s’pose.”
“You suppose ?” James furrowed his brow.
“Like an angel, she is.” Peter awed, and even Remus nodded his head and raised a brow looking at her.
“Laurent…” James thought, “I’ve heard that name. They’re French, aren’t they? Big rich pureblood freaks just like your lot, huh, Sirius?”
Sirius kept his gaze up at the front where Violette stood. “They’ve moved here because their father’s just died.”
“How d’you know that?” Remus asked.
“They came over for dinner the other night.” He replied, plainly, still looking at her.
James’s eyes widened, “ She was at your house?”
“Walburga knows their mum, I guess. She hardly spoke at all.”
“Now, let’s go ahead and get you two sorted into your houses.”
Theo was sorted first, then Violette. Both of them were sorted into Slytherin, which came as a surprise to almost nobody. Strangely, Sirius felt somewhat disappointed. A small part of him had hoped that she might get sorted into Gryffindor, but he could not say why he felt that way. He watched her stand up from the wooden chair at the front of the Great Hall, and walk over to take her seat at the Slytherin table. She sat down next to Sirius’s younger brother, Regulus.
“What a shame.” James sighed, “I think she would have looked good in red and gold, don’t you think?”
Remus chuckled, “Sure, Potter, but considering the family she comes from, I think green and silver suits her far better, if you know what I mean.” He raised his eyebrows, alluding to the fact that she came from pureblood royalty. “They’re richer than you lot, aren’t they, Sirius?”
The boys awaited his answer, but he was spaced out, considering the idea that Violette could easily be just as bad as the rest of them. She laughed at jokes about muggle-borns, and her brother walked around with his nose in the air as if he owned the place. Then again, he knew nothing about her, really, and surely people might assume that Sirius was a terrible pureblood priss like his family. He wasn’t, and maybe there was a chance that Violette could be the same. James nudged Sirius, and he blinked back to reality, clearing his throat.
“They’re as rich as this school is old.” Sirius told them, “Which is probably why Walburga wanted to have them over for dinner so badly.”
“I thought you said that they were friends.” Peter tilted his head, and his mousy brown hair fell over his face.
Sirius scoffed, “I said that they know each other. Walburga doesn’t have friends .”
The feast began, and the table was set with roast chickens, and goblets full of pumpkin juice. Soon, everyone was eating. James started his yearly quidditch ramble, and Peter listened attentively, stuffing his face with peas, corn, and chicken. Remus kept his face tilted to one side in an attempt to hide the fresh scarring on his cheek. Sirius chipped in on James’s rant, sprinkling in quiet “yeah’s” and “mhm’s”, but all the while, his eyes flickered back and forth from the table, to the peculiar girl who sat at the table across the room.