The Unforgivable Curses

Violet is power hungry and discontent. When the discovers she is a witch she seizes the opportunity, planning to take over the Ministry, which, nearly twenty years after the upheaval involving Voldemort and his followers, is falling apart. However the small matter of Bellatrix Lestrange reappearing and her close friend being Tom Riddle reborn takes her attention more immediately and soon she is forced to decide: Will she join the dark side and become the person she's told she's destined to be? Or will she fight for good and win the glory and appreciation she has always wanted?


3. Richard of York Gave Battle in Vain

This is terrible. It's so clichéd and needs more description and a few more things happening in between the things that already happen to introduce the character a bit more.

But I'll do all that after NaNoWriMo so please put up with me.


There were cats everywhere. Pen after pen with mother cats surrounded by tiny little kittens and several grown up cats lounging, free in the pathways. Violet hadn’t even known there was such thing as a cat farm.
“Is it actually possibly to make them breed? Do you just know if you put them together they’re going to do it anyway? Violet asked the woman that was showing them around earning herself a tap on the shoulder from Mrs Thompson.
“Do go asking rude questions.”
The woman that worked there laughed. “They’re not really as fussy as we are, it isn’t too hard.”
They were looking in pens as they went past while the woman told them about all of the different breeds available and their temperament.
“While cats aren’t always the most loyal of pets; they love their owners but not as unconditionally as dogs are known to, there are breed that are known to be almost dog like in their behaviours and bonds with their owner such as the birman cat.
Violet’s eyes lit up. “I want one of those, they sound nice.”
In all honesty, had it been practical enough, she would have bought a dog, but if she could get a cat with the same level of loyalty and love then she was happy.
“Brilliant,” said the woman, “follow me.”
They reached a pen in which there was no longer a mother cat, but just four kittens, three of which were running around and play fighting and the other was just laid at the back of the enclosure, glancing up at Mrs Thompson and the woman that worked there almost in boredom. However, when it caught sight of Violet it ran forwards and sat right in front of her meowing insistently.
“She doesn’t normally behave like that. She must like you.” The woman laughed.
Violet crouched down to say hello. She could see that the cats all had blue eyes and the woman had said that was typical for this breed but this one had a slightly different shade of blue. It was the sort of colour that causes heated debates between friends as to whether it is blue or purple.
An idea struck her. Not only did this cat seem to want to be her friend (it was rather unique in that desire) but with its purple eyes she could give it a purple name, like her own.
She turned to Mrs Thompson. “Can I have this one please?”
After receiving all of the appropriate instructions of care, buying a cat carrier and the same food that she was used to Violet sat in the passenger seat of the car peering through the door of the carrier. She had been happy to discover that, although it would have been good for the kitten to get used to her and her house at an earlier age, that litter had been bred elsewhere and so were older than most of them and had had all of the appropriate vaccinations and neutering. Violet took these perfect circumstances to be a sign; this cat was meant to be hers.
They were just stopping in the main shopping area of town to pick up some extra cat provisions when Violet felt it again. There was someone watching her.
She was stood outside the pet shop with the cat carrier in her hand as there were rowdy dogs inside when she felt the familiar crawling of her back. It was like the feeling you get when someone is behind you and you think they might be about to touch your back; it felt as though the skin itself was trying to shrink away from them.
Normally the stalker doesn’t dare come near here in a busy place like this which is why it scares her so much. She would usually know what to expect and that it wouldn’t do anything but not only was this a worrying deviation from the norm but she recalled the conversation that she had either heard or dreamed the night before and began to fear that something was going on. It felt like some sort of turning point. Something was about to happen.
The crawling feeling got more and more intense. They were getting closer. Violet spun around, scanning the crowds in the street behind her but there wasn’t any particular face that jumped out at her in particular. The person that had haunted her for as long as she could remember was finally in her sight but she couldn’t tell who it was.
Suddenly feeling very afraid indeed, she spun around and started to walk briskly down the pavement. If they could get lost in the crowd then so could she, even if she was at the disadvantage that they knew what she looked like and she didn’t know them.
She kept getting stuck behind people that were walking slowly and it had never been more infuriating. She was wandering along at a snail’s pace behind an old woman with a walking stick, body tense and movements jerky with frustration, when she came across a turning to another street and took it, as suddenly as she could, trying not to give it away until she actually did it.
That street was narrower, and had less people on it so she upped the pace, walking as fast as she could without breaking into a run but, in the quieter area, just before she took another turn she heard someone hurrying around the corner onto the same street meaning that they had seen which way she had turned.
It had seemed as though she was getting further away but, just after she had turned the corner, the sounds were suddenly right behind her, only feet away. She was street with lots of closed or run down appearing shops on one side and a park, miserable looking as it was winter, on the other. Not daring to look over her shoulder as it would slow her down, Violet nearly broke into a run, but through the shop window to her right, she saw that there were actually a few people in the shop. She prayed that the door was push not pull, shoved her palm against it, and her prayers were answered.
To the people in the book shop it was very quiet, just two people looking around the shelves and one sat behind the counter reading a newspaper. Due to this, the door opening quickly and a young girl hurrying in, lots of dark hair flying everywhere, was quite a surprise and seemed rather noisy.
She stood by the door looking distressed and then a little embarrassed when she noticed the three older people staring at her, slightly suspiciously.
An incredibly short old man huffed at her. “Must you be in such a hurry? Young people, really.”
Lavender or Mauve – Violet hadn’t decided which name yet – commenced meowing loudly in indignation at being jolted around so much in the cat carrier and, if she had thought it possible, the man became even more disapproving.
She turned towards the widow to try and see what her stalker was doing now, surely they couldn’t do anything with her in a quiet shop with three other people, but couldn’t see anyone.
“Someone’s following me, I’m sorry to barge in like that but I was quite afraid.” Violet sat down on the edge of the window display, all of a sudden shaking as the adrenaline wore off. Her eyes began to shine as she tried not to let tears spill over.
At this, the patrons of the shop stopped looking so offended and started looking more militant, wands drawn and gazes towards the door. The small man that had already spoken climbed right up onto the window display that Violet had sat on so he could lean right out into the bay window and get a good view of the street, want up in front of his face but, satisfied that there was no longer anyone there, he jumped back down and slipped it back into his robes.
Violet began to notice all of the things that, in her panic, hadn’t registered initially. The men in shop weren’t normal old men with jumpers, smart trousers and walking sticks but appeared quite fierce and were wearing long robes. Two of them even had pointed brown hats in their hands, not to mention the wands. Even the bookshop didn’t look quite as usual, with metal shelves, plastic labels and linoleum floor but had dark wood everywhere, candles arranged in a light fixture and no electronic cash register on the counter.
Violet didn’t know whether to believe what she was seeing or not. Either she had really been crazy all along with the ideas of being followed that no one else had understood and now it had finally gotten to the point of full on hallucinations, these people were doing some sort of role play game, or. . .
“Are you okay?”
Violet jumped when the man behind the counter addressed her unexpectedly.
She considered it for a moment. Maybe she was thinking too clearly to be crazy.
“I don’t know,” she replied, feeling too confused to make much more sense.
After an awkward moment in which she was stared at as though they didn’t know what to do with her (and she had to agree that she didn’t know what to do with herself either) the door to the back of the shop slammed open and a black haired man staggered out backwards with the biggest pile of books Violet had ever seen anyone manage to carry.
“I found-” He broke off as half of the books tumbled to the floor and the shop assistant started waving his arms in the air and fretting about him being careful.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” The man started trying to pick the books up again but the shop assistant, probably wisely, waved him away in favour of sorting them out himself.
“Those are all of the books that I could find on brewing butterbeer. Hannah never quite has managed to get it exactly the same to how it used to be but she thinks she’s close to figuring it out.”
The man behind the counter nodded in the way that someone does when they’re trying to pretend that they care what someone is talking about. “Look,” he started, “You wouldn’t know this girl from Hogwarts would you. You do work there don’t you?”
The man turned towards her, having not noticed Violet before.
“Oh, hello. No I don’t know you do I? You don’t go to Hogwarts?”
Violet didn’t even know what Hogwarts was and it’s possible that her bewilderment showed on her face as he walked across to where she was sat and crouched in front of her.
“I’m Professor Longbottom and I teach at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Do you speak English?”
At this Violet lost it. “Do I speak English? I’m speaking English, what language are you speaking? Are you mad?” She briefly considered whether she wanted to go home or not but quickly realised that she really didn’t. Wasn’t it always boring at home? This definitely wasn’t boring; her mind hadn’t stopped racing in a while.
The man behind the counter chuckled. “I think we have a muggle here.” Then he stopped smiling and started looking worried. “How did a muggle who doesn’t know about anything see this shop? What’s happened to my warding magic?”
But Professor Longbottom didn’t turn towards him. He stayed where he was, examining Violet’s face. “You remind me of someone.” He shivered, seemed to shake it off, then stood up and turned towards the shop keeper.
“She isn’t a muggle.” He wasn’t sure how he could tell but it was something about her face, something in her oddly vibrant green eyes and in the way her kitten meowed angrily in the direction of the unhelpful shopkeeper.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
Violet didn’t know why, but she trusted this man far more than the others and she believed he was telling the truth. It was probably the way he had seemed so flustered when he came in and dropped the books; he was genuine, and she no longer thought that she was going mad.
“Violet Black.”


After that Professor Longbottom had walked her back to the main street where Mrs Thompson hadn’t even noticed that she hadn’t been in front of the pet shop the whole time. He told her that he was sure she was confused and overwhelmed but that someone would be sent to help sort it out. Violet didn’t fail to notice that he had folded up his cloak so it looked like any old bit of fabric and kept his hand on the wand in his pocket, no doubt looking out for the person that she had told him had been following her.
“Are you okay with this?” he had asked, probably worried that she didn’t believe it and would freak out and start blabbing about the weirdos that she had met but she was okay with it.
“I’ve been wanting something interesting to happen anyway. Even if I am mad, I may as well just enjoy it while I still don’t know.”
He had laughed at that and assured her that she was fully sane as far as he knew.
Mrs Thompson may have noticed that she was being a little quiet if Violet’s changeable moods hadn’t always been a feature of her personality.
The stalker didn’t return that night.

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