Polished black shoes sounded against the gravel floor, their echo bouncing against the bleak walls of Scholomance Dark Arts Academy. As Varya Petrov paced the crudely lit corridors of the castle, her shadow trailed closely behind, gradually slinking around the edges of her vision. The armors swirled their heads as she moved past them, querying what a student was doing out so late past bedtime.

Her raven hair cascaded behind, catching the moonshine waves that slithered through the curtains. She kept her eyes forward, knowing better than to try to intercept the gazes of the creatures that peeked through the openings. Varya had learned that in her first year, when one of the ten apprentices of her age had sneaked out in the hallways, only to be found decapitated and impaled on one of the school's crosses. While at Scholomance, you do not look through the windows at twilight, when the külmkings wander the forests looking for the next child that they will claw the eyes out of.

"As long as you are inside those walls, you are safe" the Dark Priest had said as they gathered around the body in the morning. "But I cannot speak for whatever may tempt you to step outside."

Scholomance was anything but safe, the students would soon realize. Although only ten apprentices were picked each year, the dark arts that were performed inside the walls were enough to attract the wickedest of creatures. They sauntered the edges of the school's premise, looking for a wandering soul to trick.

Varya stopped in front of the Dark Church's entrance, looking at the big cross that hung upside down on one of the doors. She once wondered if the devil truly had doomed this school with his knowledge, if all magic families were truly descendants of his own as the townfolks said. Why was their practice so different from other schools? Varya did not know much of magic outside of Transylvania and the territory of Wallachia, but her books spoke with disgust of the western society, who had been watered down to nothing but tricks and schemes. No longer did they use talismans, sacrifices, or practiced the language of creatures, they were all chained down by their dainty wands and brooms.

Her small hand knocked against the door, announcing her presence. She opened it slowly, then stepped inside, making sure to close the door behind her. Best not to leave an open way to the strigois that walked at night. The Dark Church stood before her, just as intimidating as it had been on her first day.

The room was only lit by the few chandeliers that hung from the high ceiling, giving her surroundings an eery atmosphere. The rows of tables stood before her, made of dark wood and polished. This had once been a proper church before the Dark Priest took over the castle, chasing away any holy spirit that might have still resided the ruins. The only reminiscence of better times were the few portraits that hung on the cracked walls, the faces of the members of The Dragon Order watching the students with undoubted agony.

Varya walked between the tables towards the main altar, where two males stood facing each other. One of them was unknown to her, but she realized he carried himself with the arrogance of a westerner. His clothes comprised of dark pants that had been carefully stitched, a dress shirt that was the purest white Varya had ever seen, and a brown vest. She noticed his robes and, in one of the pockets, a carefully crafted wand.

"And why would I send her to your tainted school?" the Dark Priest boomed, his loud voice making Varya flinch. "Have you all not taken enough from us? Have you no shame in corrupting the true dark power of our Lord?"

The girl looked over at her teacher as he pointed an accusatory finger at the western man. The Dark Priest wore his ceremonial robes, which made her understand that whoever the wizard before him was, he was of high rank.

The westerner let out a low chuckle, his body shaking with amusement. Varya could not help but part her lips at the blatant display of defiance. Her hands shook as her gaze fell upon her teacher again, waiting for him to strike the wizard as he did with the other children in the school. When the strike did not come, a heaviness that she did not realize she carried drifted away.

"Do you really wish to go against me?" the wand-carrier answered, his voice dripping with nonchalance. Clearly, he was not intimidated by the Dark Priest. "Must I remind you what is to happen if I let a word slip of your true practice, Dalibor? I do not believe the Ministry of Magic would take kindly to your experiments."

Dalibor sneered at the threat, his gray eyebrows almost uniting in fury. His wrinkled face seemed to melt as he moved it, a sign of old age and darkness. He then turned to the young girl, his eyes making her quiver as the hatred bubbled in them. He called for her to come closer and so she did, keeping her eyes to her feet.

"Petrov, I would like to introduce to you the great Albus Dumbledore of Hogwarts." his introduction was filled with sarcasm as he weakly gestured to the westerner. "He is making quite a demand, you see. He thinks that he is beyond the reach of our Lord and wishes for you to negate your power by attending his school."

Varya's eyes snapped upwards as she looked at the face of the stranger that stood before her. At that moment, Albus Dumbledore looked like he glowed of pure light. He was her salvation, he was the one who would free her spirit of the endless torture that was Scholomance. Albus smiled at her, his jovial nature immediately triggering her mistrust. He extended out a hand towards her and took no offense when she only looked at it.

"Varya Petrov" he spoke, her name sounding deformed because of his accent. "I have heard a great deal about your family."

At that, her young eyes filled with fear. Was this a trap? Had they finally come to execute her for her family's betrayal? A sting came to her eyes, one that she knew too well. Varya dug her nails in her palms, holding back this sign of weakness. No, she would not cower in front of them. She straightened her back, defiance taking over her features. Albus looked at the child with a puzzled expression, as he was taken aback by the obvious coldness in her heart. For a moment, he doubted his plan.

"Do not worry, young one. I am not here to reprimand you. I am here to offer you a chance at retribution."

The Dark Priest let out a low growl at that, stepping away from the two with anger. He could not believe that such a presence had stepped foot in his magnificent school. Albus Dumbledore was nothing more than a coward who feared the true calling of power, who would one day get what he deserved. That day was not today, however, as Dalibor made his way out of the church, slamming the door behind him.

Varya analyzed the man that she was left with, carefully considering his words. Her heart swelled at them, a wave of emotion threatening to spill out. Her skin buzzed as if renewed, her veins dilated as her blood began to pump faster.

"How?" her voice came out small, dazed as if she was unsure of what she had heard. Albus reached out for his wand, not missing the obvious flinch in the girl. For a second, her hands froze and her walls circled around her. She did not let her guard down. He took it out slowly, then turned towards one of the wood tables that stood before them. Waving it, a cauldron appeared before them. He made his way towards it, then motioned for her to come and look.

"What do you know of fate, Varya?" he asked as he made another move of his wand.

"That it is a power unlike any other, something that will not budge in the face of aversion," she answered clearly, remembering what one of her teachers had said.

"Not quite," Albus rebutted, looking at her intently. "You see, fate is not stationary. Fate is the consequence of our actions, whether good or bad. It can be changed by the smallest decision. Yesterday, your fate was to serve at this school and hopefully become a weathercaster."

The girl winced at the idea, knowing that she terribly dreaded it. As much as her peers thought it to be an honor, Varya thought she was destined for greater things than riding a dragon around the mountains and bringing rain.

"Today, however, you might be the key to saving the wizarding world" Dumbledore continued, his answer making the girl look at him with confusion. "Recently, I have made a terrible discovery. While investigating a shift in the time vail, I happened to glance into the future. The things I saw were terrible, I must admit."

He then invited her to gaze into the cauldron. The girl put her small hands on the edge, peaking at what was inside. She gasped as she saw destruction, murder, and pain dominate the wizarding land. A ghost-like creature waved its wand towards a small baby, only for a green light to dash towards him. Truly that creature could not be human, could it? But then why did it speak like a wizard and why did it posses a wand? She watched as war took place, resulting in the deaths of hundreds, and wondered if this is what her parents had seen on the front line of Grindlewald's battles. The images stopped and Albus looked at her horrified face.

"As you can see, the future is unforgiving. Nevertheless, it is my hope that with your help, we could stop this." he preached, waving his hand towards what she had witnessed.

"But...how could I ever stop something like that?" she thought out loud, her gaze lost. Although she had been the top of her class, she was no savior. Not only did she not possess the strength to fight a war, but she also did not know if she wanted to be the person to defy fate. If Albus was being truthful with her, then this was what the future held and anyone who dared defies it would pay the price. Nature required balance.

"I believe that you are powerful, Varya. Not only in magic, but also in your heart. You carry an uncontrolled force inside of you, something that requires you to pay back for the wrongdoings of your parents. I am not asking you to fight, but I am asking you to help me prevent this."

"How could I prevent this? Surely you are more trained than I am and yet you come here asking for the help of teenager," she did not want to sound disrespectful, but the idea of her stopping the death of thousands was unthinkable.

"I want you to come back with me, I want you to attend my school," he started and Varya's heart started beating again. "The evilness that you saw in my memory currently walks the halls in the form of a young boy. Tom Riddle. I believe that he is not past redemption, he needs someone who can guide him."

"I do not think that anyone could change the heart of someone so evil" Varya stated, her chin held high as she defended her view. Fate could not be messed with.

"I believe that Tom Riddle is a lost soul. He seeks for someone to understand him, to show him that he is capable of love and friendship. A tragic fate he has had, born under the influence of a love potion and placed in an orphanage shortly after. Many believe that those who find themselves in such a predicament are incapable of emotion, but my research has proven otherwise," Albus paced the room, his gaze falling on the portraits of The Order of Dragon. The past rulers of Wallachia, those who had started the first line of vampires and strigoi. Vlad Țepes looked at him, his pained eyes full of remorse. "You come from a very ancient line of magic, which means that you possess more power than the average wizard, maybe even more so that some of the twenty-eight families of England. Your education has made you knowledgable of the dark arts, which will attract Riddle towards you, and your reputation will make you a mystery."

Varya doubted his words, still unsure of her capabilities. Even so, the promise of escaping Romania and rejoining the wizarding world made her consider it. Redeeming her honor and name, amounting to something more than a weathercaster, and attending a prestigious school made her think of the possibility.

"And if I fail?" she asked, still doubtful.

"We are all doomed," Albus told her as he spun to face her. Her heart dropped. "But then again, are we not doomed already? You stared into the future yourself and saw what will come of us. What is there to lose?"

She pondered on his words for a second, acknowledging his point of view. As much as she was scared of failing, there was truly nothing that she could do to make it worse. She knew that she was the wrong person and failed to understand what made her special, but her selfishness asked her...no...begged her to take Albus up on his offer, to get out of those forest-covered mountains. This was her way out and her soul was weak, she could not pass upon it.

"When do we leave?" the girl asked, hopefulness spilling out with each word.

Albus smiled at her, an all-knowing twinkle in his eyes. He could see the desperation in her, the need to prove herself worthy and leave her current life behind. "Tomorrow morning. We will go to London to get you your necessities. Books, a wand, and proper clothes."

Varya looked down at her attire, making note of the blood-red skirt that was embroidered with traditional sigils of the school, a stark contrast against her black sweater. Truly, her uniform was the most pleasant thing about her school, but she could not care about that for now. Albus had said that she would get a wand. Her first want. Although she did not need one to do magic, her excitement flashed across her face.

"Well then, go pack. There are only a few hours left until dawn and we must leave before anyone else wakes up," he said, his eyes traveling to the door. Varya nodded, thanked him, and ran out of the door, making sure to close it behind her. She could not have her one-way ticket killed by a strigoi tonight.

Once he saw her leave the room, Albus sighed and turned towards the cauldron. With another wave of his wand, the memory continued playing. He watched as Lord Voldemort approached the school and his gaze fell upon a raven-haired teenage girl standing in the front line, her wand raised in a defying manner. Dumbledore watched carefully, just as he had done when he saw it for the first time, and wondered how Varya Petrov had managed to preserve her age and lead the defense.

He truly hoped that he had not made a mistake.