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Late into the night of September 1st, Albus Dumbledore sat on his grand throne in his office, seething in rage.
The little pawn was not what he was expecting — not what he wanted.
She was supposed to be naive, lost looking for love, easy to manipulate. Except, she's the exact opposite. She's cunning, smart, and powerful - no doubt about it.
But maybe there's still hope; he can still get her in Gryffindor, get her to join the light. He can get her to sacrifice herself. He can. He can. He can.
The manipulative bastard sighed, tired, and looked at 'his' phoenix. "Oh, Fawkes, what are we going to do?"
The bird, Fawkes, just shrilled back sadly.
His true Mistress has returned.
★
Estelles first night in the Slytherin dorms was as expected, quiet and amusing. Mortimer had kept waking her up, complaining that it was too cold. And forced her to let him sleep on her pillow to keep him warm.
Such a drama queen.
As usual, she had woken up at six o'clock, ready to start her day.
She would need to start making allies in other houses — especially Susan Bones, Amelia Bones niece.
Looking around her room, her eyes landed on Mortimer curled up on her pillow. Thinking of a way to wake him up, an idea entered her head, and her eyes shined with mischief.
Slowly walking up to her bed next to Mortimer, she took out her wand and whispered, "Ventus." A jet of grey light left her wand and tickled Mortimer awake.
Hissing angrily, he glared at his Mistress with his small black snake eyes. "Jusssst what do you thhhink you are doing, brattt?"
Going red from holding in her laughter, she replied casually, "Nothing much, jussst getting ready. You know? The ussual."
"Yes, the usual, usually doesn't involve disssrupting my ssssleep." he bit back.
Estelle rolled her eyes and chuckled, "Merlin, you're ssso dramatic."
"Me? Dramatic? Never." dead-panned Mortimer.
"Oh, just be quiet now," said Estelle, finishing the conversation, knowing she'd lost.
Walking to her wardrobe she pulled out her uniform and started getting ready for the long day ahead of her.
★
Walking down the spiral stairs to the common room with Mortimer hidden up her sleeve, Estelle couldn't help but frown — she hopes everything will be okay. She may be the Mistress of Death, but she sure isn't fates.
