Name Origin: LYANNA ~ a bastardized version of Leandro, the name of one of her grandfathers; VALDĂSÂ Â ~ the Name Seer's suggestion, in keeping with the Scandinavian theme of her older brother's name. It means Goddess of Death which was amongst her parents' reasoning for keeping it a middle name; CONSTANZA ~ a nod to her hispanic heritage, deriving from the name of the Roman emperor Constantine. ROWLE ~ a sacred 28 wizarding surname
Patronus: She is unable to produce a patronus but it would be a RUSSIAN BLUE CAT ~Â The Russian Blue is known as a royal cat. Regal in form and frame, they love attention and actively seek it out. They love their humans, often doing small acts of kindness to cheer you up such as patting your face or clowning about to entice a laugh. If any Patronus will chase away a Dementor by staring disdainfully at it, this is the Patronus! [x]
Boggart: An infestation of rats. When she casts Riddikulus, cats appear and pounce on the rats.
Wand Type: Acacia and Phoenix Feather, unyielding
Occupation: Unspeakable
Affiliation: Death Eaters
Biography:
Conceived on Yule and born during the witching hour of the Autumnal Equinox, it was hardly a surprise that Lyanna grew up intensely aware of the power of the cyclical nature of the year. Rather than celebrating holidays such as Christmas and Halloween, she observed the traditional rites of sabbat and the older she got, the more invested in these rites she became. These were the true history of the magical community. It was her heritage, and for that reason she felt it hardly mattered if her interest (nay, obsession) and research took her into the more frowned upon aspects of magic. The Dark Arts werenât problematic, in Lyannaâs eyes, simply misunderstood, just as only ignorance caused people to balk at the idea of her marking Samhain with a blood ritual. It was magic almost forgotten but the spells were just as powerful as they had been when the ancient tomes she was so drawn to had been written.
It was a thirst for knowledge but not the sort that would attract her to Ravenclaw. Knowledge for knowledgeâs sake was useless. Magic was magic and knowledge was power and blood was blood. Her blood was Rowle blood and that put her on a different level to many others. Pure magic ran through her veins; that was what it meant to belong to the sacred 28, and the best way to honour her heritage was to ensure the culture and old traditions of wizarding Britain wasnât lost to those who thought they needed more âintegrationâ with the muggle world. Muggleborns who came into their world with their jeans and t-shirts and who scorned the history of the world they had entered simply because of poor teaching at Hogwarts. They could master magic all they wanted but Lyanna rarely saw them to know what it was to be a wix and that was what rankled her. It was the fact that her holy days were dismissed at Hogwarts, turned into the gaudy Halloween feast or engulfed in âChristmasâ or âEasterâ or ignored completely. It was people overlooking her for the first time in her life as if the pure magic in her blood was insignificant or the money in her familyâs vault couldnât grant her power here. Slytherin was home but the rest of the castle was nothing more than seven years she had to fight her way through, a necessary pain in the path to success.
It suited her to let the world believe she didnât care for politics. Playing up the role of the pureblood princess, who only thought pure was better because it meant she got to enjoy high society life was easy and people were unlikely to suspect her of being as deep in the Dark Arts as she truly was. The Department of Mysteries was the perfect way to follow her passion, with a ready-made excuse to not talk about it to those who might be too nosy for their own good and the security of working amongst others who researched the un-researchable. She joined the Death Eaters not for the muggle-baiting or eradication of muggleborns but because politics was more important to her than she would have others believe. She didnât want more integration with the muggle world; much the opposite. Their history was too important to be lost to such a cause and she was willing to fight for it. By then, however, the Dark Arts had consumed her. The eradication of muggleborns wasnât one of her aims but she was able to kill without batting an eyelid and she felt no remorse for it, only power coming out on top. And, as her forays into ancient rituals turned into necromancy, it didnât occur to her to feel disgusted. This was just another way they could win the war and redeem the name of pureblood.
Bellatrix was bored. She wondered if theyâd been here long enough to be able to bow out. Sheâd already donated a large financial contribution, with the assumption that her husband was going to do the same. Bellatrix wasnât really that interested in funding the ministry, but it would make the Lestranges look good, and that was something that they needed. The brunette sighed, shaking her head as she looked around. Oh. What scum was around tonight. It was such a shame, since it did look like the ministry had put some effort into the event.Â
The brought the glass of champagne she was drinking to him lips, still gazing around the event. Yep. Could they come home now?
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Lyanna smiled in amusement when she caught sight of Bellatrix, looking around the gala with a dullness in her eyes that screamed of boredom. She was slow and casual in the way that she worked her way around the gardens, not making it clear who her target was but rather appearing to mingle with all the other guests and happening to find herself next to the other former Slytherin just as the woman gave a sigh and a shake of the head. âCheer up, Bellatrix.â Lyanna punctuated her words with a demure sip of red wine. âYouâll give yourself wrinkles.â
Socialising with other Unspeakables outside of the Department of Mysteries was always a strange experience, even when it came to those who worked in different sections of the department, with no overlap and only a very limited knowledge of what the other was working on (if any at all). Still, Lyanna could hardly come to a Ministry event and ignore her colleagues simply because she wasnât sure what to say. They had little reason to talk even at work, for Lyanna was as disinterested in prophecy as possible to be, but she approached Ophelia all the same and by all appearances, the smile on her face might have implied to outsiders that they had been friends for years. âMiss Greyson, hello. I hope you are having a good day? Itâs always a pleasure to get to spend time with people outside of the office.â Not that âofficeâ was really a good descriptor of their workplace but it was the best she had for a place where there were potential eavesdroppers.
This was the sort of event Lyanna lived for -- or at least, that was what she would have the rest of the world believe. She fit in naturally with this sort of a crowd just as tight silk dresses were a more natural fit to her than cotton robes and she walked with more confidence in stiletto heels than practical flats. Just as she fit seamlessly into such an environment, she was also keen-eyed when it came to those who in one way or another didnât belong quite so perfectly. âI never thought I would say this, but Minchum has surprised me,â she said, voice shockingly soft as she approached Fenrir Greyback. âAre werewolves really on his invitation lists these days or did you con your way in?â
Alectoâs smile tightens, her jaw tensing, but she doesnât let the pleasant expression drop. Her interactions with Lyanna have never been enjoyable, nor particularly cordial. For as long as Alecto can recall, itâs always been like this; trading cutting remarks and digs masked by flowery words and honey smiles. In another world, another lifetime, they might have managed to be friends. In this one, it seems as if she exists solely to creep under Alectoâs skin.Â
âIs that so?â she responds airily, in a tone as carefully measured as some of her potion ingredients, âwell, that seems like foolish magic to me anyway. Only someone truly desperate would need to resort to magic that leaves them weakened afterwards to accomplish their goals, donât you think?â
Lyanna smiled as if Alecto were a fascinating foreign artefact she had just been given the pleasure of studying for the first time. âWhat a wonderfully naĂŻve outlook. I have always felt that the weak ones are the people who shy away from certain branches of magic because they are afraid of a little pain. Or, perhaps they are simply afraid of the power such magic can hold.â She was frustrated with herself for having displayed any weakness in front of Alecto, even if it couldnât be helped that her wound had started to bleed through its wrappings at that moment. It would have been a lot easier to convince the other that she hadnât been weakened at all by her ritual if that were the case. âYou neednât worry about my weaknesses, Alecto, however sweet you are to do so. Youâll find I can still handle myself just fine. It will have healed of its own accord in a couple of days and in the meantime I can still hold a wand.â
âThat sounds like the kind of thing Iâd usually say,â Emmeline retorts with another smile of her own. âAnd, believe it or not, youâre not the first person to tell me that recently.â The conversation sheâd had with Fabian, about allowing in the light to balance out the dark, is one that she suspects will stick with her for a while. âSo here I am attempting to unwind.â This kind of environment has never been, and probably never will be, one of her comfort zones or preferred relaxation spots. Even when she has ventured out, sheâs never particularly gone wild. Still, even Emmeline can admit itâs a nice thing once in a blue moon. âAre you trying to get me drunk now?â she jokes, but thereâs a tiny smatter of truth to her words. Her tolerance for alcohol isnât particularly high, not when she so rarely indulges in it. âI suppose one more wouldnât hurt though, if youâre going to stay. It would be nice to catch up, it feels like forever since Iâve seen you last.â
âHere is a decent place to start but it wouldnât be my first choice as a place to spend a long time,â Lyanna explained. âI do sometimes wonder why they chose the Leaky Cauldron of all places to be the gateway into Diagon Alley.â Surely there could have been a more respectable place, with tablecloths and finer wines? Or, even better, a place that wasnât a pub at all. It was not hers to question why, however so she shrugged it off without further comment. âOf course not, but perhaps just a little tipsy in the name of unwinding.â Her voice had a teasing tone and she accompanied it with a wink, though she was joking less than she appeared to be. Alcohol made it easier to relax, not just with the recent stress of war but also in the knowledge that she wouldnât have to be quite so guarded around someone who was more observant than most of Lyannaâs friends.
She returned from the bar with refills for the both of them and sat across from Emmeline to continue the conversation. âIt has been forever. Far too long although I still couldnât tell you what has changed since. Obviously I canât say anything at all about how work is going and elsewhere... well, the things that are worth talking about are more or less the same as ever.â Because, she would really not like to talk about the war and there was no news for her in the love and relationships department.
The laugh leaves Emmeline before she can stop it, a light and cheery thing no doubt caused by the glasses of wine sheâs had so far. No one has ever accused her of holding her alcohol well, after all. Itâs not often she allows herself to do this, even with just a couple of drinks. No doubt after tonight Emmeline will be embarrassed enough about her behaviour that itâll be a while before sheâll let herself indulge again. For now, itâs just a welcome break after what feels like weeks of gruelling work, and the chance to spend it now with a familiar face only makes it better.Â
âNo, definitely not on duty,â Emmeline replies, âand definitely not meeting anyone. You know me, Iâm happy with my own company. Thatâs not to say youâre not welcome to join me though, unless youâre waiting for company of course.âÂ
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It was always nice seeing someone relax who normally wouldnât, and Lyanna didnât just think that because the mark on her left forearm made being friends with an Auror pretty awkward. Despite the parts of herself she would never disclose to Emmeline, she couldnât help but like the woman and consider her a friend, so it was good to see her having fun. âI was actually thinking I might not stay here much longer but I might be persuaded to change my mind now that Iâve seen you,â she replied with a grin. âWe have to take any opportunity we can these days to enjoy ourselves, donât we?â It was, perhaps, the closest she had ever got to discussing the current state of affairs in their country with anybody outside of her closest confidantes within the Death Eaters and she very quickly bypassed the comment with a carefree smile and a glance into the glass she had been nursing that now only contained ice. âIâll get another drink if Iâm joining you. Would you like another, for when youâve finished that one?â
âForgiveness from me is earned and deserved, itâs not something people are simply entitled to. Iâm happy to forgive mere mistakes but only if a person actually appears remorseful for their rudeness.â She shrugged. She had always been kind, and certainly capable of surface level forgiveness, but that didnât stop her âbetter then everyoneâ attitude from shining through sometimes. âHow they were raised bears no importance to me in this day and age, only who they are now. We all make our own choices and if one chooses to be a mannerless swine, then thatâs their own fault. If one chooses to associate with filth, that too is their choice. Of course, if one is filt naturally thereâs little to be done to help them.â SHe shrugged, though didnât go into any more detail about her definition of filth. âItâs likely not the drink at all. Itâs just me. People stare all the time, itâs exhausting.â
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It had more been a turn of phrase than actual advice, as Lyanna was not the forgiving type, particularly when it came to strangers but in her mind their words werenât for each other anyway. They were for the unfortunate soul who had been staring at Eleanor so that they could see that they were nothing more than dirt on the soles of shoes to the two pureblood witches. âOn the contrary. How a person is raised makes a great deal of difference in who they are today. They should thank the stars that we are here to point out the ways in which they could improve themselves.â She took a self-righteous sip of her coffee. Generally she avoided words like âfilthâ and âmudbloodâ in casual conversation but she had no desire to say anything to Eleanor about it. It wasnât that she disagreed. Simply that it didnât fit that image of an airhead who didnât care for politics. It would be quite annoying to have to build up a new image for herself at this point. Her lips quirked into a smile. Privately, she still thought the staring was more likely because people invariably considered asking for what they had actually ordered in a place like this as âmaking a sceneâ but she couldnât deny that Eleanor was pretty enough for people to look without such an excuse. âI can hardly blame them for wanting to stare but it is terribly rude. Even portraits donât like it and nobody can argue they arenât works of art.â
Growing up in the Carrow household left Alecto with little in the way of fond memories or proper behaviour, but what it did gift her with was the capacity to notice when people were bending the truth. After years of learning to read between the tight smiles and fake affection of her family, itâs like second nature, and perhaps the one thing sheâd ever thank her parents for.
Alecto plasters on a similar phony smile nowâwouldnât mother be so proud?âas she turns to glance over her fellow witch fully, not bothering to hide her appraisalâor apparent disapproval. âAnd who told you that, the healer? Clearly you went to a poor one if thatâs how they left you. Thereâs nothing that canât be healed with enough skill.âÂ
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Lyanna smiled back, a smile that wasnât quite the same as the fake one she often wore. Instead, there was a mixture of amusement and superiority. Alecto always tried so hard but there was an insecurity there that Lyanna couldnât help but notice. It was always fun when she had more information about a situation than Alecto and when she could use such knowledge to remind herself that she was truly the superior witch of the two of them â she must be because while both of them had pure blood and intelligence on their sides, Lyanna had confidence in herself and that was just as important when it came to magic. âOh, Alecto. A twelve year old could heal this but if you donât know by now about the sorts of magic which are best left unhealed, then I canât help you understand them.â She blinked innocently, her expression almost looking sweet instead of showing the smugness that she felt.
If thereâs one thing that Emmeline Vance has always been known for, itâs a tendency to struggle with her work/life balance. It had been the same at Hogwarts, where sheâd thrown herself into schoolwork and textbooks and spent more hours in the library than running riot in the hallways. Now working as an Auror, she tends spend most of her time at the Ministry, out on missions, or dragging herself half asleep back to her flat. Tonight, however, she finds herself perched at a lonely table in the Leaky Cauldron, nursing a glass of nettle wine. On noticing what seems to be a pair of eyes on her, she turns to glance up from her drink.Â
âWell⊠you donât need to look quite so shocked to see me here.âÂ
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The Leaky Cauldron wouldnât be Lyannaâs choice of watering hole if it werenât for the fact that all sorts came through and that made it a good source of gossip. She rarely spent long there when she did go, just taking a drink at the bar and flitting around faces familiar and less so, pretending to be more of a social butterfly than she really was so as to get an idea of what the most popular topics of conversation were. It was never a place she arranged to meet up with friends and so she did a double-take when she saw Emmeline, who she rarely saw here. âItâs a good surprise, I promise! But can you blame me? I almost want to ask if youâre on duty, but, well...â She gestured towards the wine that she assumed Emmeline wouldnât usually drink if she was on duty. âAre you meeting someone?â
Lyanna didnât respond to the correction, beyond a roll of her eyes. There was no difference, she felt, except for the fact that they still had the wedding event to look forward to. âWhy havenât you?â she asked, as if it were as simple as that. After all, if it had become a source of frustration then she saw no reason why they shouldnât just plan the wedding they wanted. âOh, no, you have already made it perfectly clear that you are not interested in that, Malfoy. Surely there is something else we can find to talk about which interests us both equally?â
