solo.
*DISCLAIMER; this thread starts off slow, but it includes violent and possibly triggering themes, as well as crude language. If this has the possibility of upsetting you, I would not read the thread. There is a summary included at the end that is more PG if you are curious of the events that will unfold.

December 23rd
Late Afternoon
Bitter Cold, Snowing

It was strange, being back. Not good, not bad. Strange. Foreign. For so long, she had forgotten that Hogwarts was a temporary thing. That some day she would have to come back here. The Scrivener manor, the only place in the entire world that could be as elegant seeming and large as a castle, but still feel so, so empty. The corners of her lips were turned downward, suppressing a frown. It was more than obvious that Marla had only been invited back to the Scrivener manor for the break because they had heard the word that Marla Juliet Scrivener Quinlan was not only a prefect, but a member of the newspaper and co-captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team. However, in an impulsive fit she quit all three, and assumed that her grandparents were unaware of this. They... didn't have to know until after break... Or at least after she got her Christmas presents, right? Hell, even the gifts in the stockings, Marla was many things, but ungrateful wasn't one of them. Even a chocolate frog on Christmas morning would satisfy the girl.

She sank into her bed, which, on the bright side, was objectively more comfortable than her one at Hogwarts. Marla loved reading, and would steal books from the library, proceeding to shove them under her mattress, causing it to be hard as a rock. Despite the fluffy bed that she could fall asleep on in two seconds, she had always hated this room, it was her mothers when she was younger. And Aurelia probably hated it too. With the room residing in one a tower near the top of the estate, one would think that it would be light, airy, and one of the most dreamlike places in the building. And they thought wrong. With everything being either amethyst, emerald, or jet black, it was as if a medieval peasant and an emotionally unstable teen were forced to be home designers.

Icarus screeched in his cage, clanking his beak against the metal bars. She wanted so desperately to let him free, but if he broke anything, Marla was dead. Out. It was risky enough to even have brought an animal into the house, with her family being so crazy about a bit of a mess. So it looked like they were both trapped here, huh? With a defeated sigh, the fiery Gryffindor stared at the surroundings outside of her window, legs hugged to her chest. Did her mother ever feel trapped up here? In such a... space all the time. She tucked her untamed hair behind her ears. No wonder Aurelia ran away. If Marla had to stay here all the time with no escape she'd run for the hills too. It was so dull. Why couldn't her father have invited her over instead? It's been forever since she's seen Noah. A small grin replaced her previous discontent expression, thinking about her brother's smile. He started losing teeth and looks like an absolute madman. But she also wished more than anything that her and Micah would finally be able to have a conversation without a cold glare and multiple passive-aggressive comments. He's never liked her. Because of course, before Marla was born she forced her mother to have an affair with their father and ruin their family. Ah yes, Miss Quinlan's evil plan was complete! Now her brother that she crosses paths within the Hogwarts halls every day hates her with every fiber of her being! Muahahaha!

A knock emitted from Marla's large, wooden door, and without even being able to respond, it quickly opened, to which the red-haired girl jumped. In came a younger-looking, but definitely middle-aged woman with short platinum blonde hair. There were defined wrinkles around her mouth and eyebrows, probably from years of screaming orders at her house-elves and stress. After all, the woman in front of her was Imogen Scrivener. A woman who was skilled at putting up a facade for those who were unaware of her true colors, but hate, true hate ran through that woman's veins. The wicked witch of England made her way to the end of Marla's bed, her eyes shining with a false homeyness that Marla would not be deceived by for a second. Restraining an instinctive scowl from appearing on her face, she instead gave her grandmother a small, toothless smile.

"Marla, Bernadette made an early dinner downstairs. Put something more presentable on. We are expecting guests," She looked at her granddaughter's outfit up and down, raising her eyebrows slightly and exited the room without giving Marla time to respond. What was so bad about jeans and a t-shirt? But there was no arguing with Imogen Scrivener, who was unsettlingly stubborn for a Hufflepuff. She groaned, rolling her eyes excessively, and hopped out of her bed, stretching her arms, before walking towards her suitcases. While most of them were filled to the brim with comfortable clothes, she had a feeling that her grandmother would make her wear something formal, so she had packed a nice dress or two. Hopefully, this would go well, and Marla's big mouth wouldn't get in the way. After all, she did have quite the history with her family despite being so young. They were attempting to pretend it didn't happen, throwing away past grudges instead of mending them. As if all the neglect, screaming, and misery was a faded thought in the back of all of their minds. But it was all she could think about. How could they hate her one minute, and another she was the center of attention? All because of status. Formerly known as a bastard, she was now seen as an elite student at Hogwarts. Well, at least they thought she was one.

Slipping on the dress, without even looking in the mirror, a strong loathing brewed in her stomach for the piece of clothing. The lace itching her chest to the point where she wanted to rip her hair out, and already knowing what was to come with the rough, tutu-like bottom. She could already picture her thighs raw and red from chafing against the material all night. But it was the only dress that wouldn't make her grandmother roll her eyes at... Why she was trying so hard to please her grandmother, even Marla was unsure of. Imogen Scrivener was someone that she had a deep hatred of for years, wanting nothing more than to smack the stiff expression on her face off, show at least a slither of emotion for once in the hag's life. But now, with the chance to do so, all Marla wanted to do was to make her proud. She stepped into her white shoes, matching the violet dress she donned, draping down to her knee. Marla was never one for makeup, and her hair looked decent enough, so with crossed (and sweaty) fingers, the Gryffindor made her way out the door and down the stairs, to either a normal family dinner or her inevitable doom.

•••
TIMESKIP
•••

Surprisingly... dinner went okay. Of course, it was a bit awkward, with Lachlan making the occasional snide comment, forgetting that tonight was the unusual occurrence where they were all supposed to kiss Marla's ass. But noticing her grandfather, Phineas, kicking Lachlan from under the table was worth all the tension in the world. It was strange, seeing a whole new side to them. Besides Lachlan just being, well... Lachlan, they were nice. And even with her brother being a complete prick, the two have had their moments of bonding. While they're sparse, Marla and Lachlan sort of have an... Unspoken "thing" where they act like they hate each other when they don't. It was sort of refreshing, knowing that at least she wasn't the only person getting picked on by Lachlan. He was just a pissy person all around.

She was now sat back on her bed, in a very baggy t-shirt with mystery stains on it and some shorts. Taking a look out the window, a smile spread onto her face. Snow began to sprinkle on the ground lightly, something common in England with its cold climate, but never got old. One of the only things that felt like home in such a place where so many... Unsettling events occurred. Marla truly tried to make herself at home, she did, but knowing how violently trapped she felt in this manor just a year ago, it brought back unwanted flashbacks.

With loving the snow came the desperate urge to go outside and touch it, but her windows were tightly shut due to age and rust that nobody had bothered to fix, and Marla was currently not allowed to perform magic, so it wasn't like she could do anything about it, sadly.. But luckily from past experience, the fiery girl knew every single passage, even in pitch-black darkness. Years of sneaking out to escape her family had truly paid off. She hopped off her bed and shoved her feet into the worn-out slippers that she'd brought from Hogwarts, hastily throwing on some pants as well, she wasn't dumb enough to go outside in the snow without being somewhat covered.

Marla made her way down the stairs slowly, knowing which ones were noisy or loose in the occasion that she would slip. At this point, it was just memory and skill guiding her downwards, she could barely see a thing after all.

"...Because if it's what I think it is, young man–" A husky, loud voice bellowed throughout the hollow walls of the Scrivener household, and Marla's face immediately grew hot, her gut pricking with adrenaline and anxiousness. That was definitely her grandfather, Marla had never heard someone as intimidating as him in her whole life, whenever he was in a bad mood, that was the only time she'd stay silent. Even the smallest growl from the old man would cause hairs on the back of her neck to rise and all the blood to leave her already pasty white face.
"Phineas, let's not get ahead of ourselves," Yes, it was definitely her grandparents down there, but who were they talking to? It didn't sound good. She crouched down, slowly creeping down the stairs to actually see what was going on. Marla could barely hear them. She suspected that they were in one of the main rooms to the right because that was where the sound was coming from. "After all, we don't know for sure. But Lachlan, dear, be honest," Her voice was almost too welcoming, Marla could see through the bullshit in seconds. Imogen didn't have faith in anyone, she simply was twisting Lachlan around her wrinkly finger until he spewed what she wanted to hear. Dirty woman. Marla scowled to herself and rolled her eyes, finally making her way to the end of the stairs. "I know for a matter of fact that this isn't our vault key, its safe up in the attic. And– Lachlan... That letter is–"

"–Fucking disgusting. That's what it is," Phineas spoke in a lower tone, but somehow it caused the air in the room to get even denser. The rage from his voice was emitting throughout the entire house, causing goosebumps to form on Marla's skin. What letter? It had to be bad important. Phineas was a loose canon, but she'd never seen him this angry before. Ever. "Lachlan, you're a bright young man, but if I ever found out you were in contact with Aurelia, there would be very serious consequences."

No.

Be in contact with her? Did that mean she was alive? Marla didn't know whether she was going to pass out or vomit, or which would happen first, but her head all of a sudden was pounding, and all she wanted to do was run back upstairs and crawl into that ugly bed and never, ever come out.

"She was a disgrace to this family. A muggle loving whore," A loud bang echoed throughout the room, Marla crept closer and finally was able to see her family in view. They were all sitting at a long, dark wooden table. Her grandparents on one side and Lachlan placed on the other. She hid behind a dark green, cushioned chair as to not be spotted. She noticed her grandfather's fist on the table, and assumed that he had hit it on there, which explained the loud noise.
"You're both delusional," Her brother growled, his face in his hands, and visibly shaking. It didn't look like him. At all. Lachlan never took anything seriously, hell, even in the worst situations, he'd always pull a snarky comment out of his ass. This wasn't like Lachlan Scrivener. And frankly, it was terrifying. His pale forehead glistening with sweat, while the rest of his face was a tinted red, looking like he was about to combust from frustration.

"What was that?" Imogen understood every word that just came out of his mouth. And she knew the truth, she already gained the information she craved. Imogen, while immoral to a fault, was unsettlingly intelligent. A dangerous combination. At this point, she was just having fun with the situation, for Marla swore that she saw the corners of her grandmother's mouth slightly upturned, a devilish glint in her eyes. And Lachlan was taking every single morsel of the bait. He jumped up out of his chair, so fast that his seat bashed into the bookshelf behind him, causing a few of them to fall onto the floor.

"You're completely out of your mind if you think that I'm going to sit here and watch you talk about my mum. At one point that woman, that– that whore," he used air quotes around his words, "That was your daughter. You raised her. If she's so much of a disgrace, a monster, you created that. And you know what, yes– yes I am talking to her. And I don't regret it for a second. Not a single one. You know, she's better off now. Without the two of you up her ass, driving her completely rabid all the time. In no way are muggles the problem. It's you two. You're shitty people, shitty parents, and the definition of human filth. There, are you happy now that you got the fucking truth out of me? Dammit," Marla felt bile creep up into her mouth, but she choked it down. The room was dead silent, the only sound filling her ears being Lachlan's heaving breaths and a piercing ringing in her ears. This all felt like a horrid nightmare. Tears spilled down her cheeks. So the missing poster she saw in Hogwarts truly wasn't her going insane. Aurelia Scrivener was alive. Alive. There were so many thoughts twisting her mind into a knot, that she was seconds away from ripping her hair out. Without even realizing until now, tears had streamed down her now practically completely white face. It took all the willpower in her not to sniffle and give away her cover, but a little snot wouldn't kill anybody. She just needed to hear the rest of what was going on. And protect Lachlan if any one of the old hags decided to act out. After all, they were siblings.

Lachlan made for the key and letter on the table, but Phineas was quicker. He pulled out his wand, and without a moment of hesitation, yelled, "Flipendo!" Causing Lachlan to be slammed against the wall. That was it. Marla had enough of watching them push around her brother. This was going too far. She looked around for anything that would be good if she needed to fight... And under the chair was a shard of glass. Strange for that to be there, but out of everything to happen today, that was on the normal side. She gripped the shard tightly in her right hand and stood up.

"Leave him alone!" She screamed, both fists balled up to the point that they were devoid of all color. There was a considerably large lump in her throat, and she felt like hurling, so it was a surprise that she didn't double over right there and spew chunks all over the poor floor. Her grandparents both immediately looked over towards her, and Imogen snatched the wand out of Phineas's hand, as if nothing happened. Yeah, right.

"Marla! What are you doing up at this time of night?" She began to walk over, to which the young girl recoiled in disgust. She didn't even want to be touched by her. How could they? How could they lie about her mother being dead? Imogen grabbed her by the wrist, just a tad too tight, and began to drag her in the direction of the staircase. "Now its about time you head to bed, yes?" Marla looked up at the blonde, thin-haired, she-devil in front of her, so furious that her vision was red. Without hesitation, she took the glass shard and ran it across her grandmother's arm, blood spilling from her forearm. It was shallow, but still quite big. "Get your dirty hands off of me, you liar." Her voice was raspy and shaking with all the rage in the world. "You get your hands off of me! Crazy just like your mother!" The Hufflepuff sneered, her wrinkles becoming even more prominent with every scream. That was it. That was fucking it. She was done with the constant shutting out, the abuse, everything. With the shard still on Imogen's arm, Marla looked her directly in the eye, shoving it deeper. The hag screamed, and Marla felt something tug on her hair, and was shoved to the floor in the blink of an eye. Looking up, a large, bearded man was staring down at Marla, her grandfather. She stumbled hard onto the ground, every bone in her body screaming with pain. While she pretended to be tough most of the time, physically, she wasn't at all. Small and definitely too skinny for her own good, durability was something she was not genetically blessed with.

Lachlan got up from the floor, his head bleeding, and looked at their grandparents, a million threats shining in his eyes. "Don't lay a single hand on her. You've done enough already to this whole family." He attempted to wipe the blood off, but it just smeared across the entire right side of his face. "I don't want to hear a single word coming out of your mouth, son. And you," He turned to Marla, who's legs went numb as he began to storm over to her. She was frozen, and probably dead in two seconds. He smacked her across the face, which was tamer than she was expecting, but still held her face in pain. He was old, but had quite the hands. "How dare you cut my wife! Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in?!"

"She deserved it! You both lied to me about my mom being dead, made my life a living hell for twelve years, and have the nerve to invite me back here just because people hear my name and don't think of me as just a living, walking scandal that people should be ashamed of anymore?! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU SO MUCH! YOU HORRIBLE EXCUSES FOR PEOPLE!" She screamed so loud that she felt like she might pass out. Her head pounded as she went quiet, tears streaming down her face. By that point, Phineas had gotten his wand from Imogen, and had it pointed straight at Marla.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting for this." His voice morphing into a different type of sinister, one that put goosebumps on the girl's skin. She wasn't sure what the man was doing, but it was bad. Wiping her tears away, in that moment, she was so tired. Tired of trying so hard, when at this point she had no one to please. Who was she trying to make proud? Her whole family didn't even want to give her a chance. She was the short end of the stick, and that's all she'd ever be. There was no point. Whatever he would do, it didn't matter to anybody.

So why try?

Caught up in her own thoughts, Marla hadn't realized that Phineas had cast a spell until she saw a flash of light that caused her to jump out of her thoughts. She tumbled over as something fell onto her. It was dead weight. Limp, and still warm. She rolled it over, and looked down to what it was, screaming at the top of her lungs.

It was Lachlan.

Limp on the ground, eyes wide open, empty of life. His eyes, just moments ago, danced with emotions of all kinds. Mischief, happiness, anger, but that was gone. Whatever spell that was, it was meant for Marla. Phineas Scrivener had tried to murder her. And Lachlan risked everything for her. She wailed over him, silently begging him to just snap out of it, tell her that this was all a joke, a bad dream.

But it wasn't. He wasn't coming back.

Knowing that, she bore at her grandfather, now a murderer of his own family, she wanted nothing more than to see him burn. To suffer. She screeched, a storm of emotions overtaking her body. And before she knew it, the room was a wreck. Books shoved onto the floor, windows shattered, the magical lanterns shrouding the room in light extinguished. Everything was dark. Once the unfolded chaos came to a stop, the lanterns automatically relit, to show that Marla's grandparents had disappeared. They had most likely apparated. Just like they had left every other situation that got hard.

Cowards.

And all she could do was cry. She couldn't protect her brother. One of the only people that genuinely accepted her. He would never come back. And she just sat there. Doing nothing. Holding his limp, lifeless body in her skinny, incapable arms.

He was gone for good. And she couldn't save him. It should have been her.

It should have been.

SUMMARY
*more pg and condensed version

Reducio

Marla is staying at her grandparent's house in England, who she does not have the best relationship with. They basically ask her to stay there for the sole reason that they are now aware that she is a prefect, co-captain of the quidditch team, and on the newspaper, as well as possessing an O average grade. She eats dinner with them, which goes surprisingly well, and stays in her room for a while, until she realizes it is snowing. Wanting to sneak out for a bit and get a taste of the weather outside, she begins to walk downstairs until she hears her grandparents and her half brother, Lachlan, having a suspicious conversation.

After a while of eavesdropping, it is confirmed that her mother is still alive and that Lachlan is communicating with her. Phineas, Marla's grandfather, uses the flipendo spell on Lachlan, and she reveals her cover after finding a glass shard under the chair she had been hiding behind in case she needed to fight. Her grandparents pretend like nothing happened, and her grandmother, Imogen, ushers her to go to bed. Marla's emotions being so overwhelming after finding out such disturbing news about her mother, cuts Imogen with the shard and everything escalates from there, eventually leading to Phineas attempting to take Marla's life with an unknown spell, though Lachlan jumps in the way and dies instead.