M
merylk2
Guest
Original poster
Stories always make betrayal seem like such a big deal. It's usually part of the climax, where the supposed friend or family member reveals themself as the villain behind the curtain. They're the ones moving everyone about like gaudy marionettes in some circus show Thalia recalled seeing as a child in Rouen. In stories it's a heartbreaking, dramatic moment. As an adult, it seemed to verge on ridiculous. The reality of the situation was to her that if one is inclined to betraying the aforementioned family, were they really that great to begin with?
Of course for Thalia Carrow, betraying her family to join the Order of the Phoenix definitely wouldn't be a shock. Not for her or anyone that she was remotely related to. Her older (half) brother Lycus would most likely use it as an excuse to confirm every single nasty thing he'd said about her as she grew. Thalia didn't need to imagine what vitriol spewed from his mouth at the dinner parties that his wife frequently hosted. She'd been subjected to it since the day their father died, leaving four year old Thalia and Erato, baby Calliope, and their mother completely at the mercy of Lycus, who, being a man, had inherited quite literally everything.
There wasn't a Knut that any of the Carrow women could claim as their own without going through Lycus. He'd begrudgingly cared for the four of them, keeping them ensconced in a dreary, crumbling French castle to keep all of them out of sight and mind. The man had never made it a secret how much he had detested his father's new bride and the subsequent three daughters that came from that union. Thalia agreed that the feeling was mutual, harboring no love for her brother or the spawn he and his wife, Ophelia Gaunt had created. Two terrors named Amycus and Alecto. That didn't stop her from smiling until her face hurt whenever her brother deigned to visit the small family in France. They needed the money after all. No doubt Ophelia, a woman as every bit as awful-looking as her maiden name implied, had fervently demanded he hold those purse strings firmly shut unless they had properly begged for a good fortnight.
Even her French LeStrange relations, her mother's family, had been zero help in taking care of their own kin. Girls, they said, were of no use to the family name, not even bothering with a face on the family tree. It didn't matter that Erato could barely walk on a good day she was so ill, her magic doing more harm to her body than any good. It didn't matter that Calliope, still a newborn struggling to gain weight from her premature birth was fighting for survival. Nope, none of that seemed to matter in a family where men were paramount and women were useless without them. Thalia was quite amazed she'd turned out as halfway decent as she did given what her family line had to work with. Her hair was a creamy strawberry blonde, her eyes a glittering blue, and her figure somewhat boney but still attractive enough to catch a wealthy noble family scion.
All of that history had worked to sell her story to the Order, a cast out from two powerful families. Someone with everything to gain by joining the Light and everything to lose if she joined the Dark. Dumbledore had considered her a beacon of what could be. Of children who had been on a dark path their entire life, only to realize the error of their ways and go against the people they loved. It made them trust her much more easily than they ever did Severus, a man whom she knew had once upon a time been tattooed with the mark of a Death Eater only to join the Dumbledore for reasons Thalia had never cared to learn.
She sipped her wine, watching the room fill up with person after person, all followers who eyed her suspiciously. If she took a drink every time they stared too long she'd be drunk before the Dark Lord arrived. That definitely wasn't happening so she sat in silence, eyeing everyone with the bone-chilling Carrow glare she'd managed to inherit. The meeting would hopefully start soon.
Of course for Thalia Carrow, betraying her family to join the Order of the Phoenix definitely wouldn't be a shock. Not for her or anyone that she was remotely related to. Her older (half) brother Lycus would most likely use it as an excuse to confirm every single nasty thing he'd said about her as she grew. Thalia didn't need to imagine what vitriol spewed from his mouth at the dinner parties that his wife frequently hosted. She'd been subjected to it since the day their father died, leaving four year old Thalia and Erato, baby Calliope, and their mother completely at the mercy of Lycus, who, being a man, had inherited quite literally everything.
There wasn't a Knut that any of the Carrow women could claim as their own without going through Lycus. He'd begrudgingly cared for the four of them, keeping them ensconced in a dreary, crumbling French castle to keep all of them out of sight and mind. The man had never made it a secret how much he had detested his father's new bride and the subsequent three daughters that came from that union. Thalia agreed that the feeling was mutual, harboring no love for her brother or the spawn he and his wife, Ophelia Gaunt had created. Two terrors named Amycus and Alecto. That didn't stop her from smiling until her face hurt whenever her brother deigned to visit the small family in France. They needed the money after all. No doubt Ophelia, a woman as every bit as awful-looking as her maiden name implied, had fervently demanded he hold those purse strings firmly shut unless they had properly begged for a good fortnight.
Even her French LeStrange relations, her mother's family, had been zero help in taking care of their own kin. Girls, they said, were of no use to the family name, not even bothering with a face on the family tree. It didn't matter that Erato could barely walk on a good day she was so ill, her magic doing more harm to her body than any good. It didn't matter that Calliope, still a newborn struggling to gain weight from her premature birth was fighting for survival. Nope, none of that seemed to matter in a family where men were paramount and women were useless without them. Thalia was quite amazed she'd turned out as halfway decent as she did given what her family line had to work with. Her hair was a creamy strawberry blonde, her eyes a glittering blue, and her figure somewhat boney but still attractive enough to catch a wealthy noble family scion.
All of that history had worked to sell her story to the Order, a cast out from two powerful families. Someone with everything to gain by joining the Light and everything to lose if she joined the Dark. Dumbledore had considered her a beacon of what could be. Of children who had been on a dark path their entire life, only to realize the error of their ways and go against the people they loved. It made them trust her much more easily than they ever did Severus, a man whom she knew had once upon a time been tattooed with the mark of a Death Eater only to join the Dumbledore for reasons Thalia had never cared to learn.
She sipped her wine, watching the room fill up with person after person, all followers who eyed her suspiciously. If she took a drink every time they stared too long she'd be drunk before the Dark Lord arrived. That definitely wasn't happening so she sat in silence, eyeing everyone with the bone-chilling Carrow glare she'd managed to inherit. The meeting would hopefully start soon.