[011]: THE GLOW OF A VICTIM

                                    

                                          
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CHAPTER ELEVEN;
[ THE GLOW OF A VICTIM ]
                          

                            

                                
                            
                              
                                  
                              
                              
                                
                                  
                                  
                                
                              
                             
                            
                            
                          
                          
                          

        IT WAS OFFICIALLY HALLOWEEN, MUCH TO ARDEN MANGJUHL'S GREAT LIKING. It had been a day that both herself and her brother had very much been looking forward to; as she recalled, Halloween had always been a time of stupendous joy amongst their prior group of friends. Despite their outrageous costumes that were often ridiculed by their teachers, the holiday was most enjoyable, for it had always been the crucial component behind the abundance of toothaches they all received once the night had ended. Although Halloween at Hogwarts would be a drastic change from their conventional ways of celebration, Arden had truly taken her brother's words to heart about attempting to part from her isolation and toxic want of remaining in the past. She did want to be happy, yes, and she had accepted over the many days from their birthday that there was a way of being so without residing at Kanaloa.
                          
In regards to acceptance, there was one thing on the very planet that Arden had not begun to grow accustom to. In fact, she absolutely, positively would never, ever accept this one very thing. And that was the result of Fred and George's idiotic experimental goo that turned hair into one's favorite color.
                          
It very much explained the variation of colored hair that seemed to appear in subtle, almost discrete individuals as the weeks passed on. Although Arden may have been one of the very first, she has not inevitably been the last. What separated her unfortunate experience, though, was that Arden could not, for the love of god, get the silver out of her fucking hair.
                          
Arden made a distasteful expression as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror. It was currently Sunday morning, the buzzing of her teenage peers no longer present in the white tiled bathroom. A majority had already taken off to breakfast, hoping to catch the first appearance of the Halloween treats that the house elves often cooked up for the meals so many students desperately awaited for within the month of October. Although Arden had never before tasted the sweet glory of pumpkin cookies that her acquaintances had spoken about, she much more cared for attempting to rid her hair of the ghastly silver that the ginger twins had violated her beautiful hair with. 
                          
She had tried absolutely everything. From homemade potions to mailing her muggle mother for possible mundane recipes, nothing had managed to provide aid to her complication. The silver remained as prominent as ever, even as she stood before the mirror and began to rub an orange paste upon the strands that sprouted from her scalp. Madam Pomfrey had created the mixture, promising no results but perhaps a lighter shade of silver. One that did no signal her presence every time she walked into the Great Hall. 
                          
"This smells like Sunny's underwear," Arden grumbled to herself, smacking on another large clump of the thick remedy. She smoothed it upon her hair as she looked at the clock; they would be leaving for Hogsmeade in approximately forty minutes. She had promised her brother that she would tag along with him and the rest of his friends, seeing as though they knew Hogsmeade like the back of their hand. Jason had promised the best tour in the world, meanwhile, Cedric had assured Arden that he would be the first to accompany her at the bookstore towards the end of the village. He had pointed out that he had remembered her love of reading and enjoyment of warm beverages when diving into unknown literature. It made Arden feel, well, happy–yes. It made her feel happy that he had remembered such a thing. Perhaps that was why she was shoving orange muck into her hair as quickly as possible.