VIOLENCE ALWAYS SEEMS TO FOLLOW US
NATASHA WATCHED AS JOR EXAMINED THE JEWELRY, TWISTING THEM AROUND IN THE LIGHT.
Anxiety brewed in her chest, wanting to explode out of her. Still, she managed to keep a hold of her emotions and continued to watch the god examine the jewelry. He hummed in curiosity, which only worsened her anxiety.
After a few moments, he finally turned his attention back over to her. She stood up from her chair, practically sprinting over to him. “Well?” She questioned, wanting to know what the god had found out.
“You were definitely right about needing godly help, Natasha.” He chuckled, twirling the necklace in his hand, “This, my dear, is the symbol of my parent, Loki. These words are in the language of the Asgardian people.”
She leaned forward, eyes following Jor’s fingers as he pointed out each word and its meaning. “This one means ‘sliver-tongued’ while this one means ‘protection,’’' He explained to the redhead, who reached out to gently touch the necklace. “The rune, on the other hand, means ‘illumination, knowledge, and kinship.’ Typically, when Loki gives these, it’s a sign of connection — typically familial… However, you’re not related to Loki, but you do have a connection to Tom Riddle, who is related.”
“Okay… So, what does this mean?” She questioned, gently taking the necklace out of his hand, the weight of the chain giving her comfort. “Why did some weird, half dead-guy give this to Thicknesse?”
Jor shrugged, looking elegant as he did so. However, there was a glint in his eyes that hinted he knew something. “Perhaps it was a warning? To tell you to stop messing with reality.” He gave her a pointed look, yanking the necklace off of Natasha’s neck. “Honestly, I can’t believe that buffoon gave this to you, and you had the audacity to use it!”
Natasha said nothing, simply glaring at him defiantly. “Every pathogen has its own version of the fates, someone who controls everything. Normally, all of them hate each other — because of that stupid bet that had been going on about the Super Bowl. However, they all have one thing they agree on: don’t fuck with fate. What’s done has been done, Natasha. Hermione is gone, and messing with reality isn’t going to do anything about it.” The Basilisk explained.
“Fine,” she spat out, eyes glancing down to the other piece of jewelry, “What about the bracelet?”
Jor narrowed his eyes but allowed the conversation to move on. “This is a gift specifically from the fates of Greek Mythology; it’s for your sister, Yelena.” He turned the bracelet around, allowing the light to reflect on it, “It’s quite obvious who it’s meant to represent. Zeus, while one of the more temperamental gods, has always had a soft spot for his daughters — even turning one into a tree after he couldn’t protect her.”
“…What?” Natasha blurted out, confused by his last sentence.
“Oh, it was for sentimental values. Don’t worry, she’s no longer a tree.” Taking a deep breath, he continued, “In Ancient Greek, this means ‘protection’ while this word means ‘power.’ This rune is his prayer, ‘defender of cities, defender of homes, defender of anything known.’ From what I know, he typically puts this in any weapon he plans to give to a daughter. I don’t know why, but it has a little bit of his power ingrained into it.”
That caught her attention. “His power?” She questioned in response, tilting her head to the side in curiosity. “What… what does that mean?”
Jor rolled his eyes, lips twitching in amusement. “I don’t know how else to explain it; it’s his power ingrained into the bracelet. Typically, when gods do that, it puts some kind of protection and magical power into it. If I was Yelena, all I’d probably have to do is touch it and a weapon would appear.”
“So, you’re telling me a bracelet is a weapon?” She drawled out, eyebrows raised to the top of her forehead in disbelief.
The god in front of her smiled, patting her shoulder playfully. “Hey,” he started, “At least it’s better than a pen. Pretty sure that’s what Poseidon gave to his kid.”
Natasha said nothing, simply unable to come up with a response to that. After a few moments, Natasha opened her mouth, “Can I have my necklace back?”
Jor laughed, a look of amusement on his face. “Oh, Norns no! I’ve told you the dangers of it, and you really expect me to give this back to you? No, I’ll be keeping this.” He replied to the redhead, whose jaw was clenched shut.
Taking a deep breath, Natasha nodded, leaving the man’s home.
Tom watched Natasha as she stirred her potion, a zoned-out look on her face. He nudged her gently, hoping to get her attention. She hummed, head snapping over to him. “What?” She asked, voice void of… well, really anything.
Ever since Jor had taken away Natasha’s necklace, she seemed to be in a daze — almost like how she was at the beginning of the year. He said nothing, gesturing to her potion. She sighed, taking it off the flame.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Slughorn fluttering around the classroom, checking on students’ potions. Faintly, he heard the Professor award a point to a Gryffindor student, whose potion was perfect.
Although, Tom would disagree; he’d call it the bare minimum of perfection.
He bottled his potion, keeping an eye on Natasha as he watched her do the same. Slughorn came up to their table, picking up Natasha’s potion. “Well done, Ms. Romanoff! Although…” He trailed off as he looked at the ingredients on their table, “It seems you took some creative liberty. May I ask why?”
She glanced up at him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Many of these ingredients aren’t available to the public and cost a lot of money. Plus, even if you did have these ingredients on hand, it makes the potion-making process much longer than if we used them.” She pointed to the ingredients on the table, “Catnip is easily found in the wild, and is good at helping cure common colds and sickness as well as being a pseudo-narcotic for a cat.”
Slughorn raised a brow but gestured for her to keep going. Tom, on the other hand, was shocked. Natasha was coming out of her shell — her body releasing itself from the tension.
“Echinacea, while mostly used for aesthetics, is also a good plant for helping the immune system fight off any infection. It’s also known to help with skin and wounds.” Her back straightened up, with her words becoming more authoritative. “A lot of muggles actually use this mold to make an antibiotic called penicillin. It’s a fungus that helps fight off bacteria and is commonly found growing in decaying vegetation, soil, and even wood. I’ve found that these ingredients are actually more effective than the original ones. A lot of wizards just don’t like to use these ingredients because they’re not magical.”
The whole classroom was quiet, everyone staring at the redhead. Eventually, Slughorn smiled, clapping her on the shoulder with a good-hearted laugh. “Well done, Ms. Romanoff! You have certainly inherited your mother’s gifts in potions! Ten points to Slytherin, my dear.”
With that, the bell rang, signaling students to head to their next class. However, before Natasha could leave, Slughorn stopped her.
“Ms. Romanoff?” He questioned, hands reaching out as if he wanted to grasp her shoulder but refrained from doing so. “I am quite impressed with you. Normally, I don’t invite at the last minute, but… Would you like to come to a party I’m hosting? I only invite students I’m truly impressed with to talk more about magic and theory. And you, Ms. Romanoff have certainly impressed me.”
Natasha was quiet, considering his words. Did she accept his offer, or should she turn it down? Of course, she knew it would be rude to not go, but… she wondered if she even had the energy for that? Would she be able to interact with people, without snapping or zoning out?
On the other hand, she was curious about his offer. If she agreed, she’d be able to talk theory and magic with others… which, if she played it well enough, could work in her favor.
To go or to not go…
Taking a deep breath, Natasha nodded, sending the man a smile, “Can I bring a plus one?”
Natasha walked along the pavement, giving the other students nods of acknowledgment as she walked through Hogsmeade. Daphne and Blaise walked beside her, talking between themselves.
“Any input?” Blaise asked, noticing that the redhead hadn’t been interacting with them. “About Malfoy?”
Natasha shrugged, shoving her hands into her robe pockets. “Not really.” She replied, giving the two of them a glance. “I don’t really pay attention to him.”
Daphne raised a brow, tucking a piece of her blond hair behind her ear. “Really? I would’ve thought he would’ve been, like… a red flag because of, y’know, being a spy and all. Plus, the ferret is starting to look like Dumbledore’s hand with how pronounced his eye bags are.”
Blaise nodded in agreement, gesturing to Daphne. “He’s really skittish, too. He disappears for hours—!”
“—I disappear for hours.” Natasha pointed out, holding out a hand for Daphne after she tripped on something on the ground. “Careful.” Daphne scoffed, looking down to see what she tripped on.
The trio raised an eyebrow in curiosity, looking down at the opal necklace that lay on the ground. “The hell? Who dropped their necklace?” Blaise murmured, looking around to search for the necklace’s owner.
Daphne, on the other hand, kneeled down. Natasha watched with a suspicious look on her face. Daphne’s blue eyes were wide with awe, hands reaching down to grab it. “Daph?” Blaise asked, noticing that his friend seemed to be enchanted with the piece of jewelry.
The Blond said nothing, hands shaking as she picked it up. In a trance, she brought the necklace up to her neck and clipped it around herself. As if someone flipped a switch, Daphne became aware once more. “Why am I wearing this necklace?” She asked, confused as she touched it gently.
“You went into some kind of trance,” Natasha replied, eyes locked onto the necklace. Something felt off about the object, and the redhead could feel it. Magic pulsed off it, and it twisted Natasha’s insides into knots. She reached forward, going to touch the necklace, only for Daphne to slap her hand away. “Daphne… I think you should take off the necklace.”
She scoffed, her blue eyes rolling in annoyance. “Oh, please; you’re just jealous I got the necklace instead of you.” She quipped back, a scowl on her face.
Blaise sent her a look, having finally sensed the magic that was pulsing off of the necklace. “Daphne, we don’t want the necklace, it’s just…” He trailed off, taking a second to think, “I think we should search for the owner.”
“Why? Clearly, they weren’t meant to have the necklace if they dropped it.” She snapped back, eyes narrowed angrily. Around them, a small crowd formed as they watched the scene. Natasha sent them a look, but they didn’t move. In the crowd, Draco stood there, looking at the necklace with wide eyes.
She raised an eyebrow but turned her attention back to Daphne. “Daph, something doesn’t feel right about it, okay? I think it’s cursed.” She stated, looking her in the eyes.
Daphne scoffed, reaching up to touch the necklace again. “Cursed?! That’s so—!” Suddenly, she stopped. Her eyes widened as she gripped the necklace, which had tightened around her neck. She gagged, her air supply getting cut off.
“Daph!” Blaise yelled, rushing forward to help the girl. However, before he could reach her, she began to rise from the ground, twitching around in pain — her face slowly turning blue from lack of air.
The town went into chaos, with students running around. Natasha pulled out her wand, trying to help her friend. Still, she was unable to lift the curse, forced to watch her friend wraith around in pain. Thinking quickly, Natasha flicked her wand toward the necklace, hoping to loosen it up enough for Daphne to be able to breathe properly.
Thankfully, that seemed to help, but it didn’t stop the pain the necklace brought her. However, someone appeared to have the brains to call the Aurors and curse breakers, who managed to get Daphne down from the ground and the necklace off her.
She held her friends’ hand, looking up when she felt eyes on her. Twenty feet away stood Draco Malfoy, who stood still.
She narrowed her eyes in suspicion.
Guilt was on his face.
Natasha followed the blond boy, sticking to the shadows and ducking out of the way every time he looked around. He seemed to have sensed that someone was following him, (or his paranoia was just that bad) and walked into the men’s restroom.
She waited outside for a few moments, listening to his crying. She stood out there for a little while longer before opening the door, looking at the back of Draco’s shaking body.
“Ferret.” Natasha calmly stated, announcing her presence. Draco jumped, turning around and looking at her with wide eyes. “What are you crying about?”
He sneered, lips pulled up slightly to reveal his teeth. Honestly, Natasha didn’t understand why people found that so attractive. “None of your business, Romanoff. And this is the men’s restroom, don’t you know?” He snapped.
She raised an eyebrow, crossed her arms, and leaned against the stalls. “I know; I can read.” She replied, sizing him up with her eyes. He stood, grasping his arm. “Hurt your arm?” She asked casually.
“Rough practice today.” He replied, the lie rolling on his tongue. Her face portrayed nothing, staring down at the man.
“Really? I thought Quidditch practice ended a week ago?”
He clenched his jaw, fingers clenching nervously. “A few of my friends wanted to play; we treated it as a sort-of practice since the season is over.” The blond responded, a collected and calm look on his face. However, while his face was calm, his body language said otherwise.
“Funny, I swore I saw you at Hogsmede; my eyes must’ve been playing tricks on me because of the event that happened.” Natasha eyed him up and down, tucking a piece of her loose hair behind her ear. “Did you hear what happened to Daphne?” She asked, watching as his right-hand continued to twitch.
He gulped, jaw clenching tightly. “Yes. It is rather concerning that someone dropped a cursed necklace in Hogsmeade, and even more unfortunate that Daphne picked it up.” He paled, realizing his mistake. Natasha hummed, walking towards him slowly – as if she was a lion stalking down her prey.
“The Aurors didn’t reveal that it was a necklace, and made witnesses to keep from telling the press.” Draco continued to twitch in front of her, grey eyes narrowed with distrust. “I thought you weren’t at the scene, Draco… Unless, of course, you’re lying.”
Draco scoffed, body tensing up in order to protect itself. “I wasn’t there, Potter.” She raised an eyebrow at his words, curious about why he was using that name. “It was a lucky guess. If you’ll excuse me, I have some important business to take care of.” He rushed past her, bumping shoulders with her.
She held her stance, watching calmly as he stomped out of the bathroom. Suspicion rolled around in her stomach, mentally noting to watch over the boy.
Chatter filled the room, with laughter accompanying it. Natasha sipped her drink, with her other hand stuffed into the pocket of her suit. She watched as Tom talked with others, charming them with his smile and tragic backstory.
‘Hermione would’ve liked this.’ Her mind pointed out, staring at the door as if she was waiting for the girl to come in – to show up in a pretty dress, and an even prettier smile. They’d laugh, and dance playfully. Hermione’s eyes would light up with interest as she listened to someone explain something.
Alas, life wasn’t merciful. It took what it wanted when it wanted – without any remorse. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the youngest Wealesy floating around, flirting with anything that had a mouth… God, Natasha hoped she wasn’t the next victim to fall to Ginny’s flirting.
“A suit?” Someone asked, gaining Natasha’s attention. She turned around, meeting the eyes of Cormac McLaggen, who stared at her chest for an uncomfortable amount of time. “Most girls would choose to wear a dress, would they not?”
Natasha kept her face blank, her voice monotone as she replied to the Gryfiffdor, “Well, most girls tend to stay away from you, so I don’t know how you gathered that opinion.” The dirty-blonde boy blushed, a flustered look on his face.
“Most girls… But you aren’t most girls, are you?” He grinned boyishly, dimples popping up. While yes, Natasha would admit he was handsome, his stupidity and personality quickly vanished away thoughts of the two of them dating.
She raised an eyebrow, taking a sip from her drink as she considered his words. Her lips quirked up into a smirk as she watched him squirm, uncomfortable with her stare and silence. “I’m like most girls in that sense.” She chuckled as his face blanked, trying to figure out what she said. Turning away, she walked away from the boy, making her way over to the snack table.
“Ms. Romanoff!” Slugorn exclaimed, waving her over. She rolled her eyes, grabbed a cookie from the table, and walked over to the man, who was talking with Snape. The head of Slytherin gave her a look, which screamed, ‘Save me!’
Slughorn gave her a smile, his words slurring slightly from the amount of alcohol he had consumed. “Professor Snape was talking to me about your potion skills – how you had taken after your mother!” He clapped Snape on the back, who looked extremely uncomfortable with the touch.
Placing a hand on her chest, she sent the man a grateful smile. “Thank you. Of course, I wouldn’t be as good at Potions if it wasn’t for Professor Snape; you should really be thanking him!” Snape sent her a look, knowing that she had set him up. “I’m sure he would love to talk even more! Perhaps you two should start a club, to talk about potions.”
The stocky man’s eyes lit up, a bright smile on his face at her suggestion. “Dear girl, you are brilliant! Oh, Snape – when are you free? We could do the club during that time.” He rambled, his mouth going a mile a minute. She gave them a smile, and a small wave, walking away from the two to mingle with some others.
However, her peace didn’t last very long as Filch dragged someone in by their neck, a nasty grin on his face. Natasha raised an eyebrow at Draco, who looked like a kitten who was being dragged from its’ mother's mouth. “Take your hands off me, you filthy squib!” Draco hissed, trying to wrestle himself out of the caretaker’s grasp.
“Professor Slughorn, Sir,” Flich started, his cocky accent heavy, “I just discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor. He claims to have been invited to your party–!”
“--Okay, okay!” Draco interrupted, eyes on the floor like a rejected puppy, “I was gate crashing! Happy?”
Snape came forward from Slughorn’s side, eyes narrowed as he stared at the boy. “I’ll escort him out…” He trailed off, with each syllable longer than the other. Draco sneered, shaking off Filch’s hold.
“Certainly, Professor.” Draco snapped back, staring Snape into his dark eyes. Natasha tilted her head to the side, sending a look to Tom, who stood across the room from her. As they left, Natasha nodded to the door, gesturing for Tom to follow her. Once he reached her, she quickly disillusioned themselves, quietly making their way towards the sound of talking.
Snape pulled Draco into a hallway, his grip tight on the boy. “I didn’t curse Daphne Greengrass! Or maybe I did! What’s it to you?” The blond sneered, brows furrowed angrily. Snape snarled, pushing the boy into the brick wall.
“I swore I would protect you; I made the unbreakable vow.”
Tom squeezed her hand beside her, both of them listening to the conversation. Unbreakable vow, what the hell was he talking about? Natasha pursed her lips, wondering what caused the need for her godfather to make an unbreakable vow.
“I don’t need protection. I was chosen for this. Out of all others, me! I won’t fail him!” His voice shook, slightly cracking from nerves. He honestly sounded afraid – he sounded like his actual age for once, instead of the old man he typically sounded like.
“Insolent boy. I know it is your task, but let me assist you. I am your godfather – let me help you–!”
Draco scoffed, pushing Snape away from him. “No! I was chosen for this! This is my moment! I have to prove to my father that I am still worthy of the Malfoy name after what happened with everything last year!” His voice cracked, fists clenched together tightly. His body was tensed up, with anxiety rolling off of him like how a ball would roll down a hill – never-ending.
With that, the blond Slytherin marched away from the man, who stared after him for a few moments before walking away. Deeming it okay, Natasha allowed the spell to drop, meeting Tom’s glamoured eyes.
“How much you wanna bet it has something to do with him?”
Natasha hummed, nodding. “We’ll never find someplace far away from all this violence, will we?”
“No. No, violence always seems to follow us.”