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It had been a long day. Emilia had not allowed her to claim back her trophies, but she did not really care about that. She, Imogen, had other things on her mind. The man in Iris purple and cream had stirred old memories in her. Memories that she had thought long buried in the deepest crevices of her haunted mind.
Memories of the beatings she had at her father's hands. The death threats she had throughout her childhood, along with the blame bestowed upon her by her generous father. It was his fault for their position in the world not hers. But it hardly mattered to her father.
He would always blame her for it.
Looking down at her hands she pulled out a swath of paper. It smelled of red wine and dark, dark magic. It was sent to her from her grandfather, her only grandfather, who wanted her father dead.
As the story went, Imogen's parents had been members of the Venice Mafia, the wizarding mafia. Her father had fallen hard for her mother. The leader of the mafia's only daughter, Lady Verona, Venice's most influent thief had been her mother. They had gotten married by the church against her grandfathers wishes, the knowledge locked into the priests mind with an unbreakable vow.
When her mother became pregnant she fled her ancestral home and went into hiding. How would she explain it to her father? But that only made Imogen's grandfather incensed. He sent all his men out to look for her. But none could find her, except her love, who knew if his boss found out about them both he and his wife were dead. The thought of a grandchild that he could give as a gift to his leader as a peace offering kept his conscious clean.
But tragedy struck. Her mother died in child birth as her grandfather caught on to who had hidden his daughter. Giving her father an ultimatum that he could not take, Give me back my daughter or die. He chose to flee instead, taking his newborn child with him.
Why he took her with him she did not know. She did know why he abused her though, because he could never go back to Venice, for his wife was dead and in her place was a child with her body structure but his eyes. Imogen reminded him of her mother too much for his own drunken good.
Then she had come to Hogwarts, away from her father's control she was able to be herself. None had dared come near her though. When she had been sorted into the snake den she was considered lower then filth. Until another first year stood up for her, Emilia had been different from the start. She wasn't much for the values of Slytherin. The power plays and shifts in the ranking system. She left that for the rest of the house, along with politics. She went against the system at every turn, destroying the throne that the ice prince of Slytherin had claimed on his first day.
To Imogen the fact that Emilia had stepped in that day had seemed like fate. They both had twisted, dark childhoods, and matched each other in intelligence and physical abilities. For this Imogen thanked the gods every day.
Then at the end of her first year she had received a letter. The very letter she had in her hands, from her grandfather. He had found out about her and wanted her back. That had set her into extremely high spirits. But it would mean that she would never get to see her closest friend again.
Would it hurt, she wondered fingering the reply she had written over and over again. Deciding to take a step forward in her life she set out for the owlry. Only when she got back did she think about what would happen to her father. He would die because of her decision, No, she thought quickly, he was already dead from the day he was stupid enough to follow through with marring my mother.
Settling next to Emilia on one of the many leather sofas she had to ask herself, "This is right isn't it?"