Black Misfortunes

Black Misfortunes

ONE

He who has a thousand friends has not a friend to spare, and he who has one enemy will meet him everywhere

Ralph Waldo Emerson

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A sharp, gut-wrenching pain swallowed her entire body as the acid smell of burning skin reached her nose. On each palm a deep, hollow holes appeared, the edges scorched and peeling like smoking paper. She stifled a cry as the torturous agony escalated another notch, the distinct thick, dull-brown blood oozing from the growing wound.

It was painful.

It was a bloody mess.

It was everything she despised.

It stopped.

Not a particularly abnormal occurrence anymore, as one might expect, Dakota Assendora had the facts on her affliction written down in a book.

Odynia Stigma: an ancient curse placed on a victim and triggered by bouts of hatred towards Muggles and Muggle-borns as specified by the caster. So named for the stigmatic-like symptoms it produces including agonizing pain, marks on the palms of the hands and murky-brown blood, supposedly symbolic of the “dirty” blood residing in Muggles and Muggle-borns. Odynia Stigma can only be lifted with the wand the caster used when performing the incantation; however, there are said to be other counter-curses abroad, none, though, have been noted.

She had most certainly tried, but after much searching for an alternate cure, Dakota resigned herself to the fact that she was damned to bleed, burn and bruise forever at the hands of the caster, her father.

Angelo Assendora had built the legendary Assendora legacy based solely on his commitment to the Dark Arts. His allegiance with Lord Voldemort, not as a Death Eater but as a friend, instilled fear and an undeserved respect within the wizarding community. He was second only to the Devil.

The one thing that stood Angelo Assendora apart from the ordinary follower was not his refusal to join the ranks of the Death Eaters, but the knowledge that he forbid his family from practicing in the art of Dark Magic. This was especially the case after the death of Dakota's mother, Caprice, at the hands, or rather the kiss, of a dementor. Caprice Assendora had been charged with the murder of four aurors.

Besides the safety of his children, Angelo was firm in not leaving open the opportunity to be overthrown. He, alone, was the ruler of the Assendora Empire.

Dakota was quite the opposite of her father. It was this difference that, upon her transfer to Hogwarts from Drumstrang in her sixth year of schooling, she had been placed in Gryffindor instead of the expected Slytherin.

There had been disappointment all around when that had happened. The Slytherins had been hoping for a new addition with evil connections. The Gryffindors had been hoping to do without a new addition with evil connections. Angelo Assendora had responded with Odynia Stigma. This had all been before the Redbridge massacre.

Dakota knew when to acknowledge a blessing in disguise.

Mere days before the news of the attacks had reached the Hogwarts students, Dakota had finally been accepted. It had taken a verbal attack on Draco Malfoy and becoming public enemy number two, after Harry Potter, with the Slytherins, but the Gryffindors were now, finally, her friends and, to some extent, her family.

There were some things, though, that a person just didn't tell their friends or even their family. Deep down, Dakota knew the Gryffindors would not react well to the curse that plagued her, the affliction that was a constant reminder to hate the people she had become friends with.

Even as the bleeding, burning and bruising became more frequent and lengthy in period, the growing tension between Slytherin and Gryffindor mounted, spilling over into the other houses, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. People were rushing to choose sides with each death and arrest that was announced.

The professors were powerless against the hall fights and continuous plotting. Detention did not suffice, expulsion too severe. Completely powerless.

The Hogwarts castle was fast becoming its own battleground. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were chosen as opposing leaders, fighting arguments they couldn't possibly know the full extent of, even Harry Potter. Dakota knew.

------

Dakota had been wandering the halls of her father's mansion, trying to come to terms with her curse. Angelo had disappeared into his private study right after performing the incantation. As Dakota dragged her heavy feet towards that same room, she heard voices, and compulsively pressed her ear against the study door.

“That boy ruined my plans! He always managers to get in my way.” It was a cold, deadly voice, a voice that one would normally tread lightly around, but to Angelo, Voldemort was the same old school friend he had always been at Hogwarts.

“You were too cocky, Tom, trying to snatch Potter from right under the mudblood-lovers nose,” Angelo chuckled, surveying the powerful man as though he wouldn't, or couldn't, hurt a fly.

“Must you insist upon calling me that? Tom Riddle is but a dead memory, that child made sure of that too.” The hardened edge in his voice had curved into weariness, but the voice was still hard enough to make the average Death Eater wet their pants.

“You know as well as I do that Voldemort is merely a tool used to intimidate and I am not one of your mindless Death Eaters. But enough of that. You may be a reborn evil lord, but I can still see my old friend scheming away. What is your plan?”

A venomous laugh.

“If Potter is willing to risk his life for an outlawed Godfather, imagine the effect of killing his precious mudblood or even that Weasel! He'll be coming to find me instead of having to devise a plan just to get him out of Hogwarts. Of course, that's just one endeavour. Lucius Malfoy has kindly been keeping tabs on all the mudbloods at Hogwarts through his son. It's an impressive list.”

Angelo sneered and Dakota moved in closer. She had met Lucius' son, Draco, and knew him to be quite the spoiled little bastard.

“Lucius Malfoy?” he let the name roll around his tongue slowly before spitting it out in disgust.

“Lucius is a loyal Death Eater.”

“Malfoy is nothing but an inane follower, a sheep. Your loyal Death Eater was too gutless to even face Azkaban for you. He denied his support!” Angelo scowled, letting his hate engulf him.

“You did not face Azkaban for me.” It was a mocking tone, one with little patience.

“I wasn't caught.”

An eerie silence followed before the conversation changed direction.

“What of your daughter, Dakota? Lucius was quick to inform me of her selection in Gryffindor.” The hard edge had returned in full force and it made Dakota jump.

“Of course he was,” Angelo muttered darkly, sardonically. “I've brought Dakota home this weekend, and you need not fear, the reminder of her family's values I have placed on her will be a heavy burden.”

At the mention of this new “burden” and her name falling from the Devil's lips, Dakota suddenly felt nauseous. She bolted.

------

Now back in the safety of the Hogwarts grounds, Dakota had successfully steered well clear of the pending violence. She couldn't even bring herself to warn Harry, Ron or Hermione of their fate for fear of her father's sanctions.

The family rivalry between the Assendora and Malfoy families, however, was on a whole different level. It was personal. No matter what the negative feelings were towards her father, Dakota was prepared to fight for her family name, and she deeply abhorred Draco.

The hate was a mutual feeling. Draco had it in for Dakota and he made sure she knew just how much. He was constantly in her face, but Dakota knew exactly how to handle him. All she needed was perfect timing.

The perfect moment arrived a month after Dakota's arrival at Hogwarts. Unfortunately it did not go exactly according to plan.

­­------

Thankfully, Dakota had the Gryffindor girl's bathroom all to herself. She had reached it just in time for the bleeding to begin. The pain that had shot through her body a second before had been a delayed warning. This was the forth time in a week that Odynia Stigma had hit. Angelo must have been feeling particularly heinous towards the Muggles.

As the holes closed up and the murky blood on her palms miraculously vanished, Dakota pulled her long, curly, raven-black hair off her face, studying her strikingly white complexion as she washed the dry blood spot on her lip where her teeth had broken the skin in an attempt to mask a scream. She knew she wasn't beautiful, her looks more unique than conventional, but that was how Dakota liked it. She commanded attention.

Cleaning up the bloody residue that had haphazardly discoloured the white-marble vanity, Dakota descended the stony staircase to discover a strangely deserted Gryffindor common room for a Saturday afternoon. Further investigation located half the school lodged in one narrow corridor, Slytherin up one end and Gryffindor at the other.

Harry and Draco were at the head of their respective groups, hurling insults at one another in a very childish manner. Dakota had missed the opening acts, but it appeared that the two boys were preparing to duel, which would make for an interesting finale.

“You have a choice, Malfoy. You decide who it is you want to duel so we can get out of here.” Harry told Draco impatiently, practically pulling his wand out of his pocket already.

A silent disbelief befell Harry when Draco did decide; a sneer firmly implanted on the blonde's features, almost tugging up into a smirk.

“Dakota Assendora.”

Heads spun to face her and Dakota had to take a deep, calming breath to compose herself before moving purposefully forward. She had been expecting to participate in this latest escapade only as a spectator, but his new role suited her fine. Dakota had been offered a chance to win a few points for her family name while scoring brownies with the Gryffindors.

As Dakota passed Harry and his close companions, he stopped her, a hand grasping her elbow.

“You don't have to do this if you don't want to.” He whispered, almost protectively.

For a brief moment, Dakota's heart warmed at someone worrying for her safety, but quickly disregarded it as trivial. She was not the warm and fuzzy type.

“Nah,” Dakota replied in a cavalier fashion, “I've got this one covered.”

Harry nodded, relaxing his grip and directing his house to make room for the imposing duel.

This wasn't the first duel Dakota had actively partaken in, and judging by Draco's arrogance, this wasn't his first either. He stood at the far end of the hall, swinging his wand around carelessly and yelling obscenities at the Muggle-borns at the Gryffindor end.

He waited patiently for Dakota to prepare herself, and when she was ready, Draco inclined his head in a curt nod and stood straight, his wand at the ready. Dakota mirrored his actions, but before she even had a chance to straighten up, the first spell was thrown.

When the Gryffindors gasped, Dakota knew they thought she had already lost. They seemed to forget where her first five years of schooling had been spent.

Dusting herself off from the floor, Dakota stood and sent a spell of her own. It wasn't a particularly difficult charm but it would certainly embarrass Draco should it hit him. It did.

A stunningly classic ripping noise was heard from the Slytherin end and Draco's face lit up like a red Christmas fairy light as his peers held their noses and edged away from him and the smell that was omitting at sporadic, boisterous intervals from his rear. A roar of laughter and cheers of approval erupted from the Gryffindor end.

Draco reacted in anger with a curse only Dakota had heard of previously. It was a Dark curse that Angelo had used in her youth on her mother as a means of keeping the woman in line. It carried painful memories that Dakota was reluctant to relive, much less experience for herself, and at that moment, Dakota was engulfed by a tidal wave of rage fused with the sickeningly familiar feeling of fear.

As Dakota deflected the forbidden curse, she could see Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape, fighting their way through the throng of Slytherin students, in an attempt to end the duel. Dakota had time for one last spell and she knew exactly which one to use.

Anger pulsing through her veins, Dakota lifted her wand for the final blow, not weighing the consequences of using Dark Magic on another student in the presence of teachers.

“SUFFENACHE!” she bellowed, power surging through her wand as the spell hurtled towards Draco at breakneck speed.

Dakota watched in satisfaction as the deadly ball of red light zoomed towards its target. However, satisfaction quickly turned to horror as she watched the red light collide with a ball of green, as though in slow motion.

Their wands still pointed at each other, Dakota and Draco looked up at each other with consternation. Time was standing still.

The last thing Dakota saw before everything went black was Professor Snape diving at Draco and her own wand clamouring to the floor at her feet.