portentous: 'momentous significance', or 'done pompously to impress'.
in both meanings of the word, hunter-rose's life fit the bill. the seemingly perfect hufflepuff clawed to live up to her title, but how long could she grasp onto that when a war...
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July 15th, 1971
A large house. A cold room. A long table.
At the head of it sat not the owner of the house, but the man who ruled his life. An eerie man. Weak looking, yet undoubtedly strong. His tone was soft and simultaneously incredibly unwelcoming.
It was arrogant. He, Lord Voldemort, was arrogant.
"The Moore Family. Ah, what a prestigious bloodline. Whilst all of the Sacred 29 are somehow intertwined, The Moore's are the most stand-out. The most powerful. Possibly because they're a strangely... moral family. But it's important that we recruit them. They're wealthy, and take up many powerful positions in the ministry. Respect them. That daughter... the name escapes me..." he wondered aloud to his indoctrinated followers.
"Hunter-Rose, my Lord." Abraxas Malfoy squeaked.
"Yes... that's it. Such a... pretty girl. She's starting at Hogwarts soon, so I've been told. Tell your children to... elevate her status. If everyone in that school loves her, they'd follow her when her family made the right decision."
Many eyes met. When they make the right decision? He believed it to be guaranteed?
Doubt filled many of the Death Eaters, it was a plan with many holes that they couldn't ensure. None of them knew how the girl acted. How could you convince your child to like someone who they don't know?
Well, those who had met her knew she seemed nice. A sweet girl, born into a good family and a horrible world.
She was in for a hell of a ride.
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
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September 1st, 1971.
"Get up, Rose! It's your first day! Up, up, up!"
"Alright! Okay!"
The eleven year old girl immediately sat up. For so many years, she had been counting down to this day. Her first day at Hogwarts.
The blonde girls feet lingered above the floor, and she looked up at a mirror opposite her bed.
Her hair was resting just above her shoulders, a mess from a rather sleepless night. Half-heartedly, she tugged at it. She could never get her hair right. It was straight in some bits, wavy in others. She huffed, rubbing her eyes.
She spent the night imagining her years at Hogwarts. Due to only having a younger sibling, the girl was reliant on her parents memories of their adolescence.
Hunter-Rose was certain of what she wanted to do, that was clear to all who met her. She would be friendly to all, get on the quidditch team, become prefect, head girl, get the best grades on her OWLs and NEWTs before becoming a journalist, a 'true' journalist in her mind - one who doesn't twist the truth to get the most sells, rather being candid in what happens. She would be a reliable and trusted figure.
A good person. The perfect student.
That's what Hunter-Rose Moore was destined to be.
Hunter rested her feet on her white planked wooden floor for a moment, before standing up and heading to her wardrobe.
Rifling through her clothes, she settled on a brown leather jacket, a black turtleneck and a black skirt. All her better clothes were packed, and she didn't want to wear anything too bold. Best to blend in before standing out, as her father said.
Hunter-Rose got dressed, and analysed her outfit. She found her plain black tights rather dull, but they'd have to do for the journey.
The girl went to leave the room, holding her brand new brown leather trunk, her surname embroidered in large letters on the front.
She stopped and looked in the mirror. It had never struck her how young she looked until now. Large blue-green eyes stared back at her, her chubby cheeks fighting a large smile.
She was finally going to Hogwarts.
Rose made her way downstairs, and her father, Basileus, took her trunk, followed by giving her a peck on the cheek. He couldn't help but to be reminded of his youth, his best years that were spent inside that castle.
Although he knew her time at Hogwarts would be filled with friends and joy, it would also be littered with fear and uncertainty. That group, that 'Dark Lord', as his followers called him... they were starting to reek more havoc than he cared for.
He was in a position of great power, and he would use it to ensure his daughters safety. For the Moore household, family came first.
Hunter sat at the table, oblivious to her fathers worries, devouring a plate of pancakes that her mother, Valeria, had made for her.
They were covered with strawberries and whipped cream - a combination more common on waffles, but one the girl firmly believed was more suited for pancakes.
Hunter-Rose found the rest of the early morning to be a blur of hugs, tears and laughter between her, her mother, her brother Leo and her father. She soaked up the atmosphere, knowing that she'd miss her families cozy house once she arrived at the castle.
The time has come for Hunter and her father to go to King Cross. The father and daughter stepped into the kitchens large fireplace and held hands as Basileus picked up some floo powder from a nearby bowl. Hunter-Rose struggled to hold her trunk.
"Have the best time, my love. We'll write to you every fortnight! Get Dad to hold your trunk when you get there." Valeria beamed, blinking away tears.
"Bye, Hunter! Have fun! Tell me what house you get!" Leo waved jovially.
"Of course I will! I'll respond to all your letters! Love you!" Hunter-Rose chuckled. She looked up at her father, who was looking down at her.
