𝐊𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍 | 𝘍𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘞𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘺

Chapter 5 - Year Two and married couple squabbles

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Two souls are sometimes created together

and in love, before they are even born.

F. Scott Fitzgerald

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The summer holidays had seemed never-ending in Betelgeuse's opinion.

After apparating in the dingy lit hallway of her home, Betelgeuse had been swiped away by two strong arms, leaving the old house-elf grumping about how unfair was to steal his young Miss so suddenly from him.

Betelgeuse had spent her first day at home recalling to her favourite person how utterly fantastic her first year at Hogwarts had been. She had narrated everything that came to her mind. She described the Sorting ceremony, her newfound love for academics, her acceptance in the Gryffindor team, and her misfortune with Filch and detentions. The recollection of the foul caretaker with his threats of disembowelment had brought a red flush of rage to her fair complexion.

Her listener had been amused, although he had gently reproached that such a rampant display of emotion was unbecoming for a Black.

He was like that sometimes, old engraved habits died hard.

She had inquired about the numerous Howlers received, to which her counterpart had replied that he had been appallingly bored and wanted to animate her 'otherwise brainiac-bibliophile-excitement free school year'.

Betelgeuse had not been inpressed.

The majority of Betelgeuse's summer had been spent reading old books consumed by humidity in the family library. Many of those books regarded Dark, even illegal, Magic, undoubtedly not suitable for a twelve-year-old witch. However, he often has advised that 'Magic is Magic, there is not a light and an evil side, what matters is the use we make of its knowledge. Knowledge is fundamental to understand the deep essence of our World.'

And thus she had spent her summer, ofter walking down the pitch-black hallway to the parlour where she could read with the company of the two other inhabitants of the house. 

One evening as she was walked down the stairs from her room, the light cast by the candle flame caught something startling Betelgeuse. No matter how many times she walked down the stairs, the fourteen severed heads of former house-elves could always put her in distress. He had rushed to see what the problem was with his unsheathed wand, ready to defend his brightest star, only to hear the pleads of the girl to take down the hideous decoration. He had resisted the request, softly explaining to the younger witch how the sight, although repulsive, brought back memories long faded and neglected.

She had accepted his reasoning reluctantly. She had not dared to question his judgment, knowing how much his choices were thought and weighed.

His judgment had never betrayed us.

In the two months of summer break, she had received so many letters that she had lost count. All her friends had kept their promises to write. Even Oliver Wood had written to her about Quidditch strategies, once. Just once.