ARCADIA LESTRANGE

[ARCADIA LESTRANGE]

[atrb=width,400,true][atrb=cellpadding,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,border:solid 5px #181E24; background-color: #31414A;] Arcadia Full Name: Arcadia Eve Lestrange Age: Fifteen Gender: Female Sexuality: Heterosexual Blood Type: O- Species: Pureblood Familiar: Snowy Owl Patronus: Hedgehog Boggart: A needle, with contents unknown (presumably ill-bearing) House: ⇢ Slytherin Year: ⇢ Fifth Strong Subjects: ⇢ Defense Against the Dark Arts ⇢ Divination Weak Subjects: ⇢ Magical Theory ⇢ Herbology Wandcrafting: ⇢Wood: Birch ⇢Core: Dragon Heartstring ⇢Length: Ten and a half inches ⇢Flexibility: Fairly Personality: ⇢ GOOD: - Polite - Loyal - Steadfast - Cunning - Not easily fazed - Independent - Weathered - Gutsy ⇢ BAD: - Shy - Stubborn - Easily blinded - Intolerant - Impatient - Sharp-tongued - Bad-tempered - Blunt HISTORY: ⇢ More than one memory, to be precise, but they're all so very similar that they might as well be categorized in the same place. They're of her many trainings and teachings prior to Hogwarts, taught in the spacious halls of her own home and by her family. The Lestranges had a premonition of something to come, you see, and they wanted their family to be well-prepared once it arrived. Besides, they couldn't let their history of magical excellence die, could they? The training sessions were often extremely grueling for a girl Arcadia's age, but the fashioned her into the talented and soldiered witch she is today. ⇢ Her first vision. Arcadia was seven at the time, and she'd simply gasped one night at the dinner table before falling faint, her stature rather stiff and her eyes glazed over by the Inner Eye. It had been a small even that she'd Seen -- something about a happening at work that occurred the next day -- but her parents were quite proud to have such a rare gift in the family. Aspirations: ⇢ To hold up and continue her family's pride and honor, and to follow in their footsteps. After all, that's what she's known all her life. Besides, somebody has to give those mudbloods the cold shoulder. INVENTORY: -- Her eyepatch that she rarely removes, only doing so when using her Inner Eye -- Owl treats, just in case she ever needs them -- A ring that serves as a valued family heirloom Face Claiming: [i]KATEKYO HITMAN REBORN[/i], chrome dokuro, arcadia lestrange. MY NAME IS MELON AND I'M A WIZARD.

[ARCADIA LESTRANGE]

The day was dark.

It almost felt like a premonition, the way the clouds blotted out the sky and rain poured down in torrents. The only thing missing was a howling wind, and it would have been as classic as any cemetery scene in your horror movie collection. Of course, it was lacking the actual horror -- there was nothing frightening about evenings like these, unless you were the standard bed-wetting muggle who believed every creak of their floor certainly had to be a ghost coming for them. They were so pathetic. Luckily, wizards were of a much higher caliber.

Regardless of the stillness of the air, her robes still whipped below her as she strode silently across the dirt path and through the rows of stones. The dark emerald color flashed with the traces of lightning that infrequently cast the sky ablaze, but she paid it no heed. Instead, her eyes were on the grave markers. Was it so hard to keep these in any sort of order? Eventually her meticulous eyes found a system to go by. A sort of chronology based on year of death. It eventually got her to where she needed to go, though a trek across the plot of land was required of her, but she bit back any sort of mutter as the words finally caught her eye.

Bellatrix Lestrange
1951
May 2 1998

Ah, there it was. The girl came to a stop and stood facing it, gazing down at the smooth marks upon the stone. Bellatrix had been famous, hadn't she? The most dangerous and devoted of the Dark Lord's followers, even escaping from Azkaban in the Second Wizarding War. And she'd fought so strongly and held herself with such pride, according to the stories. perhaps it was foolish to visit such a place, but certainly this would be as good as any send-off her living family could give her. Besides, she felt drawn there on that particular night, and she felt no reason to deny herself such a trip.

"Off to Hogwarts tomorrow," Arcadia mumbled from beneath her hood, before reaching up and removing it; dark purple-tinted hair clipped up was exposed to the pouring rain, but it felt refreshing to her. Finally, off to school... The idea excited her, but what wizarding child didn't look forward to their letter? She smiled slightly before allowing the expression to flicker and fade as quickly as it had come. No, she was not going to behave childishly about it. Ten year-olds should be mature and imposing, to shine past the less-groomed peers and shine the brightest. At least, that's what she'd been told many times over, and she had no reason to doubt it. Still, her anticipation bubbled from within her and made her restless as she stood there, finding it obnoxiously difficult to retain all of her child-like energy. So, she chose to find a better outlet for it.

"Did you know you were going to be put in a cemetery? The girl questioned the grave, although she knew there would be no answer. She still gave a pause, however, before continuing on. "I'm sure you expected something much more fitting than some foot-tall gravestone in this dreary place. You certainly deserve better for everything that you did, don't you?" A scoff was better heard under the briefest of letups on the rain's behalf. By the time she could say anything else it was already coming down hard as ever. "A load of filthy muggles buried you, too. The rest of your family was far too busy hiding from the Ministry to even give you a funera--" Her words, slowly but surely filling with a sort of disgusted malice, were suddenly interrupted by a flash of particularly loud lightning and a clap of thunder. But perhaps it wasn't exactly those that had caused her to halt. Or that's what she was trying to deciper when she was quite suddenly pulled up and away from her consciousness.

And before her eyes Arcadia saw a black world, where the ground felt cold and lifeless beneath her feet while the sky was inclined to portray little light at all. The small slivers of gleam that the moon did manage to push through illuminated a magnificent castle brightened only by dim candles lit few and far between among the windowsills. Hogwarts. She wasn't sure if it was pictures from home that told her this or some unidentified intuition. But that was not the focus of this vision; the young girl felt compelled to face instead a dark looming forest -- the forbidden forest, she identified -- and the shadow that melded from it like a phantom. This mysterious form, it seemed either unaware or uninterested in the presence of her Inner Eye as it glided toward her. Their paths would collide, she realized, but not soon enough to step aside. The form seemed to blow through her unaffected, but it left her cold and numb, in a flash no longer herself as it carried on towards the castles. Suddenly there were howls and calls of rebellion searing her ears, but they did not stop the steady rhythmic flow of words that escaped her entranced lips:

Slain to wait fifteen scores turned, when the time of Great Evil finally laid to rest ...No more, when peace spun not to last should fall ...From the deepest entrenchments shall tumult rise to lengths They know not ...Great Heroes long lessened by blood and age, who may rise to quell lust so starved?


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Was it mere minutes or humble hours before she re-awoke, collapsed on the sodden ground beside her great ancestor's meager grave? Arcadia was far too light-headed and cold to know for sure. All she could to was gingerly rise upright, and allow the blood to continuing flowing before daring to stand. What had she seen? The girl could hardly remember now, though she could have sworn it was a premonition... Much like the ones whispered amongst her family for so many years. But it could not have been a prophecy; there was little chance of that, not for a girl as young as her. She took a moment to ingrain this little lie before pulling up her hood and taking one last long look at the gravestone before her. Whatever had happened, had Bellatrix Lestrange played a hand? No matter. In one swift movement she had turned, and the cloaked child took her leave without any further hesitation. After all, she had a new experience all her own waiting for her, just a twenty-four hours and a train platform away.

[ƒσятє]

☆This is just...

EXCELLENT Seer is yours.