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Arabella Jones

Because it eats away at everything, but mostly love

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Arabella Jones

Ever since she had received her Hogwarts letter, Arabella had had an intense desire to find out anything she could about her mother. It was partly to spite Barry, but it was also to appease the five year old in her, calling out for her mother; which was clearly a false memory, since the Slytherin hadn’t seen Diane since she was two years old. Arabella knew how to be melodramatic, but she didn’t know how to own up to it.

 

The trophy room had come up in a random conversation with Casper, and Arabella had instantly lit up at the idea. She didn’t know anything about her mother, so there was a very slim chance she would even recognise the woman’s name brandished on a plaque, for all the world to see, but she needed to try, at least.

 

“Could my mother have been a Slytherin?” She asked the boy next to her, nervously playing with the edge of her robes, as the two made their way towards their destination. “Does that really affect how someone gets sorted?” These were the exact same questions she had been asking, a year ago, but each time she uttered the words, it felt like something was cementing deep inside her chest.

 

“Explain this to me again?” She said, phrasing the plea as a question. Arabella pushed open the door, waiting for Casper to fall in step with her. “What do you have to do to end up in here?” She asked, gesturing at the room around her. She wasn’t asking the obvious question, and she wondered whether Casper could tell. How would she know if her mother had been worthy enough to have her name erected in these hallowed halls.

 

The amount of trophies in the room was daunting, but Arabella was determined to try everything at least once.

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Casper Abernathy

There wasn't much to be said about mothers. They were an unknown concept only identified through textbook descriptions and his own fading memory. Not even a crack in a father's stoic composition can be found - no fond recollections of the past, of what his wife was like; Daisy Abernathy was never mentioned in the house. Only his older sister would ever dare to whisper stories of mother's sweet elegance and gentle hands guiding.

 

He was left with so little. His memories of mother may as well have been fabricated from all of the concepts he believed a real mother could be. So, of course, Casper would aid a friend in the discovery of her own mother. There'd only been brief hesitation before accepting as if he doubted Arabella's true motives: could she tell that he had no mother as well? It wasn't a secret, but Casper was a private person, even with his friend.

 

"No." He chuckled. The sound was amused, lacking the the typical derision. "Your family doesn't matter when it comes to sorting." While the fact was straight from Hogwarts: A History itself, he still had doubts himself. His family had mattered when it came to sorting; imagine his disappointment when he hadn't followed in his father's footsteps exactly. "My father. He was a Slytherin as well... when did your, um, mother come to school?"

 

Gaze was already scanning the shelves of trophies and plaques, s e a r c h i n g . For what? He wasn't certain. The task already seemed impossible (JUST LOOK AT THE AMOUNT OF TROPHIES! Arabella was lucky he didn't complain... yet). They needed all of the headstart that they could get.

 

"Winning dueling tournaments. Quidditch cup," he listed off the reasons. "Did she even participate in any of those?"

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Arabella Jones

It was perhaps a lie to say Arabella remembered nothing about her mother. The woman had disappeared when Arabella was five years old, and if she really pressed her memory, she could often remember a quiet voice singing her to sleep, and a gentle hand caressing her hair. The only tangible thing she possessed, however, was a smell. It had followed her around for as long as she could remember, but she had never encountered a similar one.

 

To this day, it was Arabella’s favourite scent, and she resented it. Why should she retain memories of a woman who had eventually decided her daughter wasn’t worth the effort of sticking around? It had wounded something deep inside the girl, and she was certain she would spend the rest of her life trying to figure out what was lacking in her.

 

The alternative, of course, was to find her mother and put the questions to her instead.

 

Before they had even entered the Trophy Room, Arabella had a vague feeling that it would be a futile attempt. She didn’t know much about the woman; just a first name that she had held on to for as long as she could remember. It filled her with a sense of embarrassment, as she realised what Casper must think of her. A startled little dove trying to take flight without wings. It was enough to cause her to almost choke on the next words as they slowly travelled upwards.

 

”Oh,” she said, startled. It felt somehow significant that Casper’s father had been a Slytherin, just like her. It made her feel oddly recognised, even if not entirely satisfied - Casper was one of her best friends, and his father had been a Slytherin. She tried following that train of thought, before derailing it and returning to the task at hand. She could dig through her friend’s life later. “Her name was Diane,” came the quiet response to the all-encompassing questions, almost like a confession.

 

No, she didn’t know if the woman had ever participated in anything at Hogwarts. Maybe she had been the most popular person during her time at the school, but Arabella would never know; she had certainly not followed in her mother’s footsteps, if that was the case. “Will that help?” She asked, frowning now. “There should be like...some sort of catalogue here,” she added, looking around. It was so easy to feel frustrated when in the Muggle world, only a click of a button was necessary to bring forth a stream of information in neatly organised lists. It was rather obvious that the wizarding world needed a serious reform.

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