2 Chapter One: Change

"Again"

Sweat dripped from her forehead, travelling down the side of her face and tumbling to the marble ground to join the puddle slowly forming around Cordelia's feet.

She let out a sigh as the witch heaved herself onto her knees and glared at the blonde lady before her.

"I have been trying all afternoon-"

"And yet you still haven't managed a single spell."

Melania McMillan's glare was unrelenting as she gazed upon her daughter's crumpled form. The regal pureblood witch had reduced Cordelia to a lump on the ground within an hour of training.

After overcoming the Triwizard Tournament's obstacles, Cordelia had presumed she could hold her own against her mother's training. Evidently, the so-called Slytherin Queen had been wrong to presume a deadly task or two was enough to precede Melania.

It had been two hours since the young witch attempted to fire her first Crucio, but Cordelia had failed to conjure the torturous red sparks time and time again.

The Cruciatus Curse wasn't something any respectable mage would associate themselves with, but considering the Black family's history with dark magic, it was crucial for Cordelia to master the three Unforgiveables, even if she never planned to use them.

Avada Kedavra and Imperio were eventually mastered over the course of two tiresome weeks, but even after constant training and preparations, Cordelia couldn't conjure a single Crucio.

"You're pushing her too hard."

Usually, the mere thought of her father speaking in her defence would have lightened Cordelia's mood, but given the circumstances, Arcturus's uninterested call merely worsened her resolve.

"On the contrary, she isn't pushing herself hard enough."

Cordelia winced as she let go of the floor and steadied herself against the table to her right.

If Melania Mcmillan was anything, it was persistent, especially when it came to her daughter's education. The way she glared at Cordelia made it clear Melania had no intentions of letting up until a Cruciatus curse was cast, but fortunately, Arcturus Black had other thoughts.

"Exertion isn't fit for a ball, Melania. You can torture her another time."

Of course, her father would pay more heed to her appearance at the ball than her physical state. It had been like that ever since Arcturus embraced Cordelia at the platform.

Her father had taken to being civil towards Cordelia and Melania for the most part, but his favouritism for Orion was forever evident. At first, it bothered the young witch. After all, being treated lesser than even after winning the Triwizard Tournament just because she was a female was a lot to accept, but Cordelia had learned to cope with it.

It had been a while since her family was on civil terms, and she wanted to keep it that way.

That didn't stop her from sighing as Cordelia twirled her wand and awaited a final response.

"One would presume the Triwizard Tournament would somehow strengthen your magic. Evidently, I was mistaken."

The taunt made Cordelia wince as she glared at the red carpet before her.

"Go get ready for the ball, we will continue this tomorrow."

With her mind amiss and body drained, a nod was the only response Cordelia could muster as she dragged her feet across the library's carpeted floor, only pausing once her bedroom's familiar oak door was before her.

Her prior achievements over the previous academic year were celebrated across the wizarding community. Witches took to the streets with murmurs of feminism, wizards commended their peers while secretly scolding their sons, and the students of Hogwarts held their heads a little higher as they basked in the afterglow of their peer's success.

Everyone seemed to feel more than elated with the Triwizard Tournament's outcome. Everyone except the person who should have been.

Cordelia had presumed winning the Triwizard Tournament would have come with a sense of respect and power, however, after two weeks of attending parties and accepting congratulatory gifts, she had come to realise the Black family thought of Cordelia no differently.

To them, it didn't matter if she had battled beasts or overcome obstacles if she couldn't cast a dark spell or two. Credibility aside, to her family Cordelia was the same little girl she was a year ago.

The Slytherin Queen was incompetent, childish, and unable to muster simple curses; no amount of gallantry or trophies would change that.

And Cordelia hated it.

Cordelia presumed she would be respected and acknowledged, she thought she would be seen as more than just a gifted child ready to face the world. The young witch expected recognition and a position of authority in her family, something comparable to the respect and awe the Slytherins gave her but received tuts and taunts that made her feel unworthy.

A sigh fell from her lips for the umpteenth time as Cordelia leaned against her dresser and trained her gaze upon the silver badge nestled between a letter.

What was the point of recognition at Hogwarts when she was merely a foolish little girl in the real world?

Cordelia had won. She beat Beauxbaton and Dumstrang as well as Tom Riddle, then why did it not feel like a victory?

If it was Tom, he wouldn't have gotten in over his head and expected so much. If it was Tom, he wouldn't throw extravagant balls or accept overly grand gifts. If it was Tom, the entire European wizarding community wouldn't be aware of his prowess in the tournament.

But she wasn't Tom, so why did Cordelia feel the need to act like him?

Sure, Tom was a more fitting victor and had overpowered Cordelia time and time again at Hogwarts, but that didn't change the fact that Cordelia won.

The outcome, however, just made things worse.

Tom had placed second, which meant if Magnus hadn't helped Cordelia, there was a possibility he would have won.

It wasn't considered cheating since the two just happened to face the same creature at the same time, and the Tournament's judges deemed that even without Magnus's help Cordelia would have placed first or second, but that wasn't enough for her.

The judges couldn't see the position she was in and certainly weren't aware of the fact that Cordelia would have given up if Magnus hadn't made an appearance, that, paired with her new Boggart and the Black family's reaction, or lack therefore of, to her victory was enough to ruin Cordelia's psyche.

Tom Riddle, the Tournament, putting on a show for the pureblood community, Melania's training, her father's apathy but recognition, and Cordelia' worries for the future were all too much to handle. The young witch sunk to the ground as her weakened body and anxious mind caved in.

"What is good is bad, but what is bad is worse."

She couldn't make much sense of the statement, but Cordelia didn't seem to care as she nodded along and closed her eyes, forgetting all about the ball and the crowd of guests due that evening.