alecto saligia rose CARROW

[alectorose]

yeah, yeah, well, you’re just a mess
you do all this big talking
so now let’s see you walk it,
i said let’s see you walk it


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{ A B O U T . Y O U }

Name: Fief.
Gender: Femme.
Age: Seventeen.
E-mail: you has.
Twitter: you has.
Years of RPG Experience: Five-ish years.
Other: Removed by Staff

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{ Q U I C K . Q U I Z }

How did you find us? <3
What about ISS inspired you to join? <3
Do you have any suggestions for us? <3

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{ A B O U T . T H E . C H A R A C T E R }

Name: Alecto Saligia Rose Carrow.
Age: Eighteen.
Gender: Female.
Year: Graduated.
Face Claim: Avril to the Lavigne.

Canon or Original? Canonnnn. (;

Facial Properties:

I am Alecto’s mirror.

She’s haughty, she’s vain, she’s conceited and filled with pride. Where did it all come from, I wonder? She frequents me at least thrice a day, always sitting at the vanity seat and peering into my silver eaves, puckering her pink, cupid-bow lips, brushing through the tangled knots in her white-blond hair, sliding the palm of her hand against that pale, china-doll skin of hers... Alecto is what one might term extremely obsessed with her outer appearance. It does not show openly, judging by the glimpses I sometimes get of her questionable attire, but when it comes to the matters of her face, Alecto has a sort of obscene fixation. She rarely ever leaves my presence without first utilizing my sparkling exterior to place thick, heavy, black eyeliner under her precious little lids––nor does she forget to layer on her dense mascara. Alecto rarely sports any sort of cheek pinker, for she happens to be quite proud of her alabaster complexion and does not prefer to sully it with, what she terms, ‘that horrid powder.’ Speaking from experience, it does rather malign her overall appearance, and I have to agree that her strong, sloping cheekbones do not need to be further defined by blush. She has extremely strong features, ever since she was a child; her harsh cheekbones and her wide, strong jawline contribute to her facial appeal, and it can be said that the girl was extremely well-endowed with excellent bone structure. Her stunning, sterling-gray eyes sparkle with mystery whenever she regards her visage, and I must say that I find them entrancing. Despite the fact that I, above all, know full well the true colors of Alecto Rose Saligia Carrow, I find myself almost wanting to trust her when I look at her eyes. In them, I see but a child with a blighted existence––a girl, not yet a woman, who has been hurt beyond her capacity to withhold it, who has been mistreated and who has a bruised self image. Alecto is a fragile, broken thing––a cracked china doll. But her fissures? They aren’t so apparent anymore. She’s superglued them back together, she’d hidden her worst aspects and highlighted her best, and in so doing, she’s become a monster. And yet, when you look into those glassy, beautiful eyes of hers, that long, silky blond hair... you seem to forget all about that––you seem to catch a glimmer of what she had been before, of the little girl to whom those eyes used to belong, who used to bend those pink lips of hers into a smile of joy rather than have them distorted by rage. Yes, Alecto’s eyes tend to fool you. Fringed with those alluring dark lashes and accentuated by her pencil-thin, light eyebrows, it’s hard not to be reminded of a somewhat seraphic personage by her optics. But she is no angel. Years of watching her grow and change has proved that. And as I sit, broken and discarded on the floor, awaiting someone to come and pick up my pieces, I have never been a truer reflection of my mistress.

Physique:

I am Alecto’s dresser.

Sometimes I wonder how I do it––survive, that is. I mean, yes, I’m inanimate, but if you were stuffed as full as I am with Alecto’s poor excuse for clothing, you’d be worrying about your mortality as well. From what I’ve noticed across the years, Alecto has never been much by way of height. She’s average, I suppose you could label her––around five foot five, perhaps give or take an inch. She’s worn size seven jeans since mother nature endowed her with wide, child-bearing hips, and also because size five is too short. Besides, despite the fact that size seven is a tad big, I’ve learned that Alecto enjoys leaving her clothes hang off her thin, lithe frame. She prefers comfort to appearance any day when it comes to her wardrobe, and I suppose that’s to be admired nowadays in the younger generations. In my top drawer lay all her skimpy little undergarments, and recently she’s had to discard her old brassieres and purchase new ones due to the fact that her chest seems to be growing and growing without an end in sight. She’s a D cup by now, I’d imagine––with a bust like hers and with the bras I’ve seen in my drawers, I’d venture to say that a 32 D is about the correct placement of her size. Her legs are long, but taper toward the ankle in an attractive slope that, from what I’ve seen in her bedroom, makes the men wild. I would say that her long legs are probably her greatest asset, though, by the way she dresses, Alecto seems to think it’s her chest and her flat stomach. She does have a flattering figure, but sometimes I doubt she knows quite how to accentuate it––she drowns it with baggy clothes, unflattering frilly skirts, and too-tight bustiers which she has no business parading around in at eighteen years of age. But alas, there is not much that I, a simple wardrobe, can do to prevent her from attiring herself like a hussy. She also has a fixation for tattoos, that Alecto does––she’s not only got her Dark Mark to show off, but her other various array of tattoos as well, such as the star on her wrist and several more elsewhere that only her lovers and I have seen. She never used to be a confident girl, not enough to have tattoos done, anyway, but over the past few years she seems to have come into her own a bit, albeit and little mysteriously. I remain unconvinced that she is not the same girl who used to slump against my exterior and sob every night, but at any rate, I am glad if not a bit mystified to see the change take place. She is stronger, now––more sure of herself, more sure of what she wears and how she wears it. I dare-say I’m proud of her. The only fault I can find with her improved outward appearance is that her fingernails are clipped too short, and her fingers are a bit stocky and not as thin as would suit a girl as graceful as Alecto. Other than that, I find Alecto very good at projecting a collected, suave facade to hide the chaos that is really going on inside––she’s beautiful, and because she’s beautiful, she succeeds in life.

Wand Type: Vinewood, 11¼ inches, chimaera scale core.
Wand Expertise: Dark Arts.
Patronus: Unable to produce one.
Boggart: Solitude––more specifically, abandonment.

Personality:

I am Alecto’s cradle.

After I was crafted, I was rarely used. The tiny babe that was supposed to lay her head down to sleep on my interior was always up, always running around, always up to no good. Mistress Alecto had been rambunctious ever since she was a child, and just because her constantly absent parents believed she was in bed at the late hours of the night did not mean she was––oh no, my whitewashed wooden bars could not hold her in. She was an odd specimen, that Alecto Carrow––she could do things, odd things, beyond a normal human’s capacity. She could bend my bars and fit through them, and she could climb back into me with little trouble. She frightened me sometimes, I must admit––the abusive way with which she handled her things was enough to make anyone shiver, living or not. She’d burn things, or throw them at ceiling fans to watch them shred... luckily, I was too heavy for her to lift, and she hadn’t mastered wandless levitation at the age of five, which was the oldest she got before she was booted out of the nursery and into a regular room with a regular bed, offering me a slight reprieve. She thought she was being spoiled with a bigger bed––Alecto had never had that feeling of self-entitlement so often present in the younger generations. That was most likely due to the fact that she was often alone, and often kept out of her parents’ lives. I never felt any normal familial bond or love between the three, between parents and child, and yea, it was very rare to see them in the same room together. Alecto tucked herself into bed, and was not afforded the luxury of a mother’s kiss goodnight. The girl lacked that special, congenital connection with her mother, which I do believe has been the source of many hardships in her young life. She played toys with herself, she kissed her own dolls goodnight, she dressed herself, and she fed herself. That early independence, forced and premature, seems to have destroyed whatever shred of humanity was left in the girl, and from her infancy on, she lacked the capability to feel empathetic toward others. She knew she was supposed to feel sad when her brother fell down and cut his knee, but she just couldn’t. I could hear them playing from the nursery window on occasion, and scenes such as that would unfold. She’d utter some spell to fix his scab and then she’d walk away, just like that, with no whispered words of affection or comfort. It was like that with all the Carrows––there was no outward display of affection. I often doubt that there was any affection in that family.

I am Alecto’s shoes.

Whether I’m combat boots, stilettos, sandals, or tennis shoes, I never seem to be without a job. I’m always trudging through mud or grass or twirling around on the dance floor, constantly occupied. Luckily for me, Mistress Alecto has pleasant-enough smelling feet. At any rate, I’ve learned form experience that there’s just about nothing Alecto wouldn’t do. She’s extremely brave for being a Slytherin––granted, she’ll still run and hide when times get thick, but she’s the one who gets herself into those thick situations, and she doesn’t regret it. She’s tough as nails, I’d say––she’d literally walk through fire to get what she wants. Trust me, I’d know. It’s almost as if she seeks out these bad situations, relishing the thrill and the adrenaline rush that trouble brings her. She’s not exactly careless, though, per se––she keeps me in good condition, through everything that she’s weathered. Alecto is resilient. She’s not the type of person who gives up, at least form what I can tell. I’ve walked her through countless situations of teenaged drama and even more countless detentions, and she’s not one who shies from stress. It’s almost as if she has a strange affinity for trouble and drama. She likes the attention being on her, I suppose, for she never had much when she was younger and finds her adult life a suitable time to overcompensate. As with her relationship with Sirius––it is my belief that perhaps she felt some sort of connection with him, but really? It was all about the drama, all about the attention, the thrill-seeking. She would get detentions all the time for verbally abusing the house elves in the kitchen, and even though she knew better, she liked being in a room full of professors, all their eyes fastened to her. Doesn’t matter if it means bad news. To Alecto, any attention is good attention, bad or not. Any news is good news. She can be a bit overdramatic in that way, I fear. But what’s a queen to do without drama? And Alecto surely views herself as a queen. She buys my companions to an almost obsessive level, and constantly comes home with a new pair sparkling on her feet. Her style is a bit outrageous. Under her Death Eater robes, she almost always without fail wears stilettos. Bright red, skull-covered stilettos, or something of the sort. Her reasoning is that if she somehow draws a blank on spells, she can shove her foot into all the right places of her opponent. Classy, eh? It would be, if it was a word in Alecto’s vocabulary.

I am Alecto’s lace bustier.

Do you think anyone who had an ounce of self-doubt could really pull me off? Honestly, give it a second thought. To wear something like me, you’ve either got to be a total, self-abosrbed bitch or someone with such low self-worth that she’s willing to buy me and wear me underneath her clothes to make her feel pretty inside. But to actually pull me off, which of those two do you think is capable of such a feat? Take a second to think about it. Done? Good. Now, which do you think Mistress Alecto is? What if I told you she was both? Don’t look at me like that––I get enough stares now and again, and I don’t need yours. Yes, pretty Miss Alecto Saligia Rose Carrow has troubles. Issues of self-worth. But come on, does that really surprise you? If so, then you’re dafter than I thought. Consider it. She grew up, neglected, abandoned, and alone for the first ten years of her life. The only time she interacted with other people was when she played with her brother, and then finally when she was accepted to Hogwarts and exposed to what we call the real world. But she lacked a mother’s affection. She lacked a father’s admiration. She doesn’t know how to form bonds, how to connect on that personal, intimate level with people––because she never learned how. The ability to love is a learned trait. I, above all, know that to be true. You learn to love as a tender young newborn babe, at the height of your vulnerability. You depend on your mother for food, for everything. Imagine what your life would have been like without a mother to kiss you goodnight, to see you off to school, to pack your lunches and buy you clothes and dote on you in front of the neighbors. Imagine what it would be like to grow up alone, with the responsibility of another life on your hands at the age of five. Yes, imagine all those things, and once you’ve concluded that no one deserves that kind of existence, look at Miss Alecto and you’ll see someone who was dealt it anyway. The only person she ever came close to making that connection with was one Sirius Black, and it turned out that he had never been interested romantically in her to begin with. You don’t think she wore me, her little ‘security corset,’ beneath her dress on Valentine’s Day? You don’t think she wanted to give Sirius the most important gift a girl could give that night? Well, if you didn’t, you’re dafter than I thought. Alecto has an intense desire to be loved––an intense desire to be known by everyone, whether for a good or for a bad reason. She doesn’t love––she doesn’t allow herself to love. She’s selfish and arrogant and weak and fragile at the same time. Every time she’s allowed herself to feel for a boy? Every time, it ends in disappointment and remorse. Look at Jagger. Look at Sirius. Alecto’s alone. And she’ll always end up alone.

I am Alecto’s Dark Mark.

She’s not ashamed of me. But she’s not proud of me, either. Do you want to know a secret, about the real reason Alecto became a Death Eater initiate after she graduated? It’s because she didn’t want to be alone, didn’t want to go back to an empty house and an empty life. She wanted company––she was pathetic enough to seek it with my kind. It would not have really made sense, though, to her credit, for her to join forces of the Order––I know her soul, I pulsate with her innermost thoughts and desires, and she is suitable material for a cold blooded killer. She was raised on hatred, fed on hatred, bathed in hatred. Coldness, indifference, and death are all things that Alecto has been familiar with since her birth. Her first kill was when she was ten years old––I know that, too. Sound a bit ridiculous? It was. Oh, just wait till you hear that story. I’m not ruining it now, though, but I will tell you this: Alecto Saligia Rose Carrow knows pain, knows horror, knows the tremors of fear and delight after a kill. She has no remorse, no regret, no nothing. Alecto is, in a word, amoral. She simply has no concept of good, of evil, or of anything in-between. It all stems back to her inability to feel, to care for another human being. Oh, but she has some humanity in her. She can feel, if she lets herself. But why choose to feel when you can just... shut it off? That’s what I’ve taught her. All those terrible thoughts, all those feelings of guilt and shame... none of them are of any consequence to Alecto now, because she can ignore them. She can will away whatever shred of humanity was left in her, and that’s what makes her such a valuable asset to the Dark Lord. Alecto Carrow can punish, can kill, can torture, at such a very young, very ripe age, and with such little emotion afterward. Whenever a family needs to be killed, He sends Alecto. Whenever a child needs to be killed, He sends Alecto. Sometimes, I can feel it inside her––I can feel the lingering twist of regret, the uncomfortable spasm of doubt that haunts her very core, but it never lasts for very long. If she doesn’t kill it, I do, with a simple shiver down her forearm to remind her of who’s really in charge of her movements. But that shivering doesn’t frighten her, no––it excites her, reminds her of the fact that she belongs to a group, to a family of people who are alike in their mindsets, and who appreciate her. Alecto does not feel fear. That is something else that she just chooses to switch off. She used to feel fear––she used to feel a lot more things. But after she graduated, and after she got me, well... that changed, didn’t it?

I am Alecto’s cauldron.

Just by taking one glance at me, you could see I’m well used. Alecto’s a great worker, despite the fact that just taking a look at her might suggest otherwise. She’s not necessarily the best student per se, but she’s got a diligent work ethic that helped her succeed through her school years with adequate marks. If she’d perhaps cared a little bit more for her studies and wasn’t totally focused on just getting ‘the hell out of school,’ then I suspect she would have done much better––perhaps even rivaling some of the Ravenclaws in final marks. She’s intelligent, but she doesn’t show it, is what I suppose I can say about her. When she wasn’t practicing potions with fellow graduate Slytherin, Severus Snape, and I, she was often reading great works of wizarding literature nearby the table where I sat overnight. Alecto has never slept well, from what I gathered in my observance of her while I lay dormant on a table at night in her dormitory. She was constantly awake, reading something, or practicing some sort of wandless magic or incantation, but never sleeping. I do believe this unhealthy pattern greatly impeded her focus on her N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s, but there was obviously nothing I could do to advise her to rest. Many times she’d sneak down to the kitchens, or so I’d hear her mutter on her way out, to torment the house elves for some form of entertainment. Other times she’d sneak out onto the grounds to pass the time by the lake, one of her favorite haunts. But mostly, she would stay in her dormitory and stare at the ceiling, read, or work quietly with me. In class she was never outspoken, rarely ever raising her hand to answer a question though we both knew that she knew the correct answer. Her excellent marks (for a Slytherin, mind) in almost every class of course brought young Alecto to the attention of the sycophantic Professor Slughorn, who collected her into his ‘Slug Club’ from her fifth to seventh year. She had never harbored any particular affinity for Slughorn, and neither had I––he handled us cauldrons rather roughly––but she obliged him and was accepted into the small community of snobs. Alecto is a lot of things, but never has she been dubbed a snob. There’s no reason for her to be, really. She’s defensive about her family but has never been overly so, and has never bragged about them. It was strange to note that besides she and perhaps Lily Evans, Alecto was one of the only ones who weren’t constantly bragging about their families, and one of the only ones that Slughorn didn’t pry about it either. What was there to know? The Carrows were hardly on the same rung as the Blacks or the Malfoys or the Prewetts––they’d produced an intelligent daughter but that was about the only reason Slughorn was interested in her to begin with. But Alecto didn’t much care, because, yet again, she belonged to something––she wasn’t alone.

I am Alecto’s middle finger.

Alecto isn’t afraid to use me when she has to, or when she simply likes the idea of pissing someone off. No, she’s never been one to keep things to herself, except when she’s being all demure and muted in a classroom setting. In the real world, Alecto Carrow is rude, outspoken, loud, and boisterous. She’ll cause a scene if she damned well wants to, and she wants to more often than not. Attention attention, attention. That’s what it’s all about. If she has to stomp and cry and ball me into the rest of her fist to get her way or elicit pity from an onlooker, by Merlin she’ll do it. Having grown up neglected, it’s only natural for Alecto to believe she has to use extremes to get people to notice her. Whether it’s using me to caress the cheek of a boy she happens to like, or whether I’m assisting her in giving the bird to a boy she doesn’t, I’m constantly in use. Alecto always busies herself, never wanting to waste time. She hates wasting time. Whether it’s dawdling around after class or allowing conversations to loll into silent awkwardness, Alecto despises the quiet, the still, the serene. She wants to fill it with chaos and screams. It makes her uncomfortable. Especially when she’s angry at someone––and that’s where I come in. She’ll flip me up and that certainly is enough to jump start the conversation. She’s very open about such talks––if she doesn’t like you, she doesn’t like you and she’s not afraid to show it, Regulus Black. Sorry, she’s Team Sirius. But that doesn’t mean Alecto’s strong, in any way––don’t confuse her outspoken ways for confidence. She’s a fragile creature emotionally, though she doesn’t look it, and her way of coping with that weakness is to be loud, obnoxious, and sexually promiscuous. But aha, stop the judgment once more. I know what you’re thinking. She’s a whore, she’s a slut, she’s a psycho. Well, the last one may hold a shred of truth somewhat but as for the first two? Alecto’s a virgin. Shocker, eh? Well, who can you trust better than her own finger? I’ve been with her for her entire life and I know firsthand, no pun intended, that she has never slept with anyone in her whole life. Has she been touched sexually? Now, that’s another story. But penetrated she has not ever been, though you wouldn’t guess it by the way she looks. What I’ve noticed is that she can go extremely far, but she just can’t push herself over the final threshold. Maybe it’s because she’s afraid of getting hurt. Maybe it’s because she’s terrified of being loved and left. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because there’s more to Miss Alecto than meets the eye.


Likes:
+ Dark Magic.
+ Large crowds.
+ Noise.
+ Screams.
+ Chaos.
+ Boys.
+ Clothes.
+ Potions.
+ Tattoos.
+ Killing.
+ Torturing.
+ Alcohol.
+ Blood.
+ Violence.
Dislikes:
– Fear.
– Guilt.
– Love.
– Sex.
– Work.
– Snobs.
– Sycophants.
– Silence.
– Stillness.
– Solitude.
– Being ignored.
– Wasting time.
– Emotion.
– Weaknesses.
– Her mother.
– Her father.

History:

I am Alecto’s mother.

I never loved him. Is that a foolish statement to make, now that we’re both dead and none of it matters anymore? Well, nevermind. The point of this is that I never loved him and it was a mistake to marry him. I came from a small family, see. An average, run-of-the-mill half-blood family and I never gave anyone a hard time about anything. I was a good girl, I was. Born and raised in Wiltshire and with a small farm, to boot. I was simple––I didn’t know anything about high society or pureblood decorum or anything of the sort. All I knew was that I was a Ravenclaw and I had my head in my books half of the time a pretty Slytherin pureblood was supposedly courting me. Carlisle, his name was. Carlisle Wilbur Carrow. And oh, sure, he was handsome. I didn’t know why he showed me the attention he did. I was small and bookish and I didn’t have much interest in the opposite sex, let alone him. Besides, I was a fourth year when he first asked me out, and he a seventh. We went to the Yule Ball together, and it was nice but... strange, you know? I felt uncomfortable and intimidated by all the older kids there, and all the gorgeous girls. Of all of them, why did Carlisle choose me? When he could have had another Slytherin his age, even. It was only soon after that I found out why. I was what guys called ‘easy,’ see. I was young and naive and I thought he loved me because of the way he would touch me and the things he would whisper as he nibbled on my ear. It frightened me, sure, but who was I to stand up against Carlisle Carrow? I was little Wynona Snigs, a. k. a., the school’s resident smart ass. I may have had long, pretty blond hair and sweet blue eyes but when it all came down to it I was a nobody. I was fourteen, he was seventeen, and I was scared. And Carlisle always put me in these really embarrassing situations––he’d try to grope me in public, and the teachers would always find us and it was just the most horrifying thing ever. But Carlisle didn’t care, it was like the whole thing was one big joke to him. It was funny, because he was making geeky Wynona Snigs look bad in front of her favorite teachers. It was funny to his friends, too, and it probably would have been funny to mine if I had any friends. But I was always alone. Books were my friends. Characters were my constant solace. People didn’t talk to me because I had a big nose and was prone to chronic nosebleeds. But Carlisle liked me because he knew I was easy to take advantage of. Carlisle liked me because he could push me around. Carlisle liked me because I was quiet when he raped me. I obviously didn’t want him to do it but I didn’t want to get him in trouble, either. He frightened me and at the same time to some extent I liked him. But mostly, I feared what he would do to me if I told. He did it when I visited his house for Christmas. There would have been no one to hear my cries, anyway.

Do I regret who I was back then? Not really. I was a freak before Carlisle Carrow started using me. After he graced me with his presence, suddenly all these sycophants started coming out of the woodwork, treating me as if I was to be the next Mrs. Carrow. Carlisle had come from a relatively well-off family, it was true, but by way of blood purity, he was only pure by a few recent generations. He was new blood, they called him. But that didn’t matter to the social climbers. He was just another rung on their ladder and apparently, so was I. I hated the attention. A small part of me relished it for the shallow popularity it brought but I always knew it was an illusion, that it would end as soon as it had begun when Carlisle graduated and found another sex toy with which to amuse himself. I wouldn’t even be in his memory, I’d doubted. I would just be a blip on the radar of his life and he wouldn’t even recognize my name in ten years. If he had ten years, that was. Which he didn’t. The day he married me was akin to his death sentence. He was too ambitious, too power-hungry, too egomaniacal for marriage. And he didn’t love me. Our relationship abruptly ended after he graduated, just like I’d predicted it would, and then almost a year after he abandoned me, I got a menacing owl from him, saying that he would be visiting me in the Concourse later. So I got dressed up and I went down to see him, and as it turned out, he’d gone skint broke after he’d graduated. All those dreams of becoming a Quidditch player were dead now, along with his future. He was broke, he needed money, and I had a modestly sizable dowry. I was a fifth year when he proposed, and I was a sixth year when I dropped out of school to marry him. He rushed me, you see. He rushed me into things because he needed the money and he was still too ‘new-blooded’ to get any of the more wealthy potential brides out there, such as Molly Prewett or another from her circle. So Wynona Snigs became Wynona Carrow in what seemed like overnight. When I put on the ring, I was sixteen years old, and he was eighteen. My family didn’t particularly care for the union but they didn’t particularly mind not having to pay for new schoolbooks and supplies ever again. I was sixteen when we moved in to our new manor in Hampshire, and I was seventeen when I discovered I was pregnant. Carlisle ignored me most of the day, touching me when he felt like it and sleeping with me even if he didn’t feel like it. He was absent––always absent, and he didn’t seem to much care when I informed him that I was carrying his child. Something about this new dark wizard who was very powerful and gathering recruits. This dark wizard was more important that his young, pregnant wife. Did I resent him for it? Carlisle, no. But the dark wizard, yes. Carlisle was a busy man, I told myself. Carlisle loved me but he was a busy man.

I kept telling myself that until my daughter was born. I didn’t like her. She was an ugly, fat baby who mewled and cried unbearably. Carlisle didn’t want to pay for St. Mungo’s so I had to teach myself how to give birth alone. He went away the week I was due, presumably on business but really to the bars and clubs so that he could forget that I was going to have a child. He was more important than me. He was always more important than me. He was Carlisle Carrow and he was special. I was Wynona and I meant nothing. And when my daughter was born, she didn’t mean anything either. I’d been reading Edith Hamilton’s Mythology at the time and decided to call her Alecto, because Merlin knew she was wretched enough to pass for one of the Erinyes. Loud enough, too. I hated Alecto, I really did. She was disgusting and I hated taking care of her. I gave her the middle name Saligia because it’s a mnemonic for the seven deadly sins in Latin, all of which I assumed Alecto would commit at least once in her life. A horrible, despicable child, she was. Didn’t deserve to live. Carlisle was of the same opinion. But he was always gone, and I missed him, because I was always so lonely. So I left Alecto often in the nursery and I decided that my place was with Carlisle and that I needed to be with him in this service to the dark wizard, to this Dark Lord. And for a while, things were good. It was just Carlisle and Wynona, and we both became Death Eaters, both followed the codes and did the deeds and killed those who deserved it. Blood purity had never worked me up personally but I didn’t care, because if I tilted up my nose and said purebloods were the only ones worth a shit, I got to stay with Carlisle. And staying with Carlisle was more important than anything to me, even the welfare of my bitch daughter. Carlisle was the most important because he was right about everything, he always was. He was right that purebloods were better and he was right that our daughter didn’t deserve our affection and he was right that the more time we spent away from the Carrow Manor the better, because then we couldn’t make any more children that would sabotage our union. He was so, so right about everything. I remember finding myself lucky that I had such a wise husband. And I always thought he truly was wise, even toward the end. But then... there were some things... There were some.... unforgivable things...

I am Alecto’s father.

If it had been a boy, maybe things would have been different. Maybe I wouldn’t have had to drink and cheat and piss away my life. But she had a girl––a hideous, pudgy, doe-eyed baby girl who would in no way be pleasing to the family name. Alecto Saligia Carrow, to boot. I always knew Slimy Snigs was a fucking weirdo but Saligia, really? So, I insisted we give her a middle name that could at least pass for average. Alecto Saligia Rose, after my dead sister. Morbid, but so was Alecto. I never liked being around her, never liked so much as seeing her or presenting her to my parents, when that glorious day arrived. Even my parents struggled to mask their dismay when they met eyes with the demon child, when they saw how wretched––how accursed her existence until that point had been. I loathed her, loathed her with every fibre of my being. I needed to get out of the house more often, you understand. I needed to be away from her because she was evil, because she was the one who ruined everything for me. I now had a liability––a child to care for. On top of Wynona, who still behaved like a child now and again. I wanted my life back, I wanted my parents to look upon my marriage with pride and not scorn. Of course I had married down the social chain. I had needed a decoy. I needed a little wife figure to make herself presentable to society while I went off to do what I needed to do elsewhere. The Dark Lord was where my loyalties lay, and it was with him that I spent the most time. Until fucking Snigs had to come with me and destroy my plans. She couldn’t be alone, she said. Hated being by herself with our pathetic baby. So she left Alecto at home and would come with me––needless to say, scandal erupted and soon enough my parents were demanding to know why Wynona and I were never at the manor. See, she ruined things, that baby––ruined things. I had to stop seeing the Dark Lord as much and that was no good because he needed me, because I was better than everyone else and because I was the only one who truly followed him. He gave me power––taught me to do things I never knew I could have done and I felt needed and important for once in this fucking life of mine. Wynona could never understand that and Alecto was too much of a dumbshit to even speak. The point was that I had to spend more time with the Dark Lord because it was inebriating, intoxicating––the power. I needed it. I needed it. And so I resorted to extremes: but so would anyone else in my place. So I let Wynona come with me and we would lock Alecto in the nursery so she couldn’t get out. She was only a year at that time, though, and she couldn’t have escaped her crib even if she wanted to. We charmed it, see, so the door wouldn’t open, and we left some food in her crib in case she needed to eat. She was fat, though, so we didn’t leave very much. And things were fine again, things were good––until that fucking Snigs bitch discovered she was pregnant again.

I needed a decoy, see. I needed someone who would make my parents believe I was a family man and I was living up to their dreams and I wasn’t off with some no name dark wizard who wanted to eradicate muggles and mudbloods off the face of the earth. So when Wynona got pregnant again it was only a year after Alecto had been born and I didn’t want another child. I hated babies and caring for them but we couldn’t afford house elves since we were living off her inheritance because I didn’t have a job. I didn’t need a job, I was working for the Dark Lord and that was more important than galleons. Wynona knew. She understood. We couldn’t handle another child. So she understood when I raped her, when I sliced into her skin and broke her jaw and twisted her arms and fractured her ribcage. She understood that I had to do it, that we had no choice. We couldn’t have another kid. We just couldn’t. But we did. But Wynona healed. But the baby lived. This time, it was a boy. He was uglier than his sister and he cried louder and he pissed himself more frequently. I would have nothing to do with him––with Amycus––and so we left him with his sister in the nursery and that put an end to it. But Wynona didn’t trust me, the fucking bitch, after I did what I had to do in order to save the family. She wouldn’t let me touch her, let me use my privileges as her husband. And so I got angrier, I left more often, I drank more often, I went to the Dark Lord more often and killed more often. She’d come sometimes just because she was a miserable wretch and hated being alone due to insecurities I could never even begin to explain, and I put up with her to save face in front of my lessers. But I hated her for it, I began to hate her and I began to hate our children even more. They were disgusting, Amycus and Alecto, and they deserved to die. But I couldn’t kill them. Wynona couldn’t kill them. We wanted to and I’d threatened on many occasions but we couldn’t risk my parents finding out, see. They expected me to work at the ministry and keep the line pure and produce children and fulfill their dream of me. To them I did. It was an illusion, to them, what I told them and what I did. Said I worked for the ministry, had them come over and meet Amycus after he slithered out of his mother’s womb. The pretense was being kept up expertly well. Except I was unhappy, see. I was unhappy because my wife just kept getting uglier and uglier and she shrank whenever I came around and wouldn’t let me touch her. I was frustrated and angry and the Dark Lord was getting new recruits and I couldn’t let any of them get better than me, so I had to be gone more often, practicing dark magic more often, away from the miserable Carrow Manor more, mercifully, often. But I needed to do it. I had to, see. I had to abandon my family and I had to work more closely with the Dark Lord because I couldn’t be forgotten, I couldn’t be replaced. I was special, he needed me, and frankly, I needed him too.

And so I left for a while, and Wynona insisted upon coming with me even though I wanted absolutely nothing to do with her any longer. Her time was up in my mind, and I was only hoping that one day one of these missions would be too taxing for her little body. We came back after a few months, Alecto was six and Amycus was five. I was not interested in them, but I had noticed that Alecto grew to look more like her mother. She wasn’t ugly or fat anymore––she was like her mother, only better, only younger. She didn’t mind when I touched her. She didn’t shrink away from me. She would just look up at me with those bright blue eyes of hers and ask me if I was staying this time. I remembered the wretched feelings I once harbored for her and I remembered wanting to kill her. But now, with her long blond hair and blue eyes, she was the image of what I once found alluring in her mother, and you see, I had been away too long. Wynona and I stayed for a month this time at the manor. I wanted nothing to do with Amycus but I often found Alecto in the nursery alone. She didn’t mind it when I touched her. When I stroked her hair, when I chucked her chin, when my palm slid down her chest and when it kept going beyond her bellybutton. She wasn’t like her mother––no, Alecto was so much better than her mother. She liked it when I touched her––she giggled and told me it tickled. She didn’t mind touching me either, when and where I told her to. Sometimes we’d play hide and go seek and if I won she had to take her panties off. One time Wynona saw her touching me, and she took a frying pan to the girl’s head. She was almost catatonic for days, but that didn’t bother me––easy access, you could say. That was when Wynona let me back into her bed again. She couldn’t handle sharing me with her daughter so I again had full access to my wife. I stopped seeing Alecto, then, who was nearing her seventh birthday. By that time, Alecto had discovered her ability for magic, which pleased me. I taught her the curses and we practiced them outside. One day after we’d finished, I took her aside and I would have had my way with her if Wynona hadn’t nearly caught us another time. But now, I had admitted myself into the beds of both my wife and my daughter, for Alecto was too afraid to turn me out. She moved to another room with a bigger bed and some nights after Wynona had fallen asleep I’d come in to play with Alecto. She was nine now, and I never took it the full way because I didn’t want to risk the chance of her screams. She used to hide from me––under the bed, in the playroom closet, in a crawl-space under the stairs. But I was too smart for her, and I told her it was naughty to play hide and seek when her daddy was looking for her. But then she would scream, we just couldn’t have that...

I am Alecto’s wand.

I came into Alecto’s possession upon the occasion of her tenth birthday. Her affiliation with me was slightly earlier than most of her peers’, but it was after all, a special occasion. Her father had a specific reason for purchasing her wand in Diagon that day, and it had more to do with what he wanted than what his daughter did. I could tell from the second I met with Alecto’s tiny, child fingers that there was something abnormal about their relationship. The way he would touch her, the way he would say her name was enough to make anyone uncomfortable, even a hunk of wood like me. But there was that undeniable spark between the young girl and me, and as much as I didn’t want to get entangled with their affairs, it was too late. Alecto and I were two halves of the same being and before I knew it I was in her hands for the rest of our lives. There are many things a wand can see––it’s always present, whether tucked behind the ear of its caster or slipped up her sleeve––a wand sees all, knows all. And I, too, saw all and knew all. Within the first month that Alecto owned me I could peer into the depths of her soul and know that her father had been with her many times before, and in many ways that no father should. I knew that she felt neglected, abandoned, alone, and used––that she feared her father, that she despised her mother, and that her brother was not much but an annoyance to her, though she did feel the most strongly for him. I knew that she couldn’t feel love, I knew that she couldn’t feel guilt and that she was close to being numb to even pain. Alecto’s father had been the source of many of these things, but her mother’s neglect and denial of affection had also hardened the girl to the extent where she called picking the wings off of butterflies fun. The girl was no girl––she was hardly human. But there were parts of her, lapses in her constant armor of indifference, where I could glimpse the girl she used to be––the girl she could have been. But even that was erased, in time. Again, due to the malevolence of her father. He was painfully ambitious and there was a young kid who had joined the Death Eaters and was slowly gaining repute––more than Carrow thought he had. Carlisle Carrow was, in a word, an initiate. His illusions of being a favorite of the Dark Lord were just that––illusions. He had never been shown a moment’s favor. In fact, the Dark Lord didn’t much like him. But Carrow believed that this kid was ‘overthrowing’ him so to speak, and he began to get defensive and constantly angry. So, one night after he and Alecto had finished a particularly heated exchange of practice curses, Carrow took his daughter to the place where his young rival lived and insisted that she use the Cruciatus curse on him before Carlisle finished the job. He wanted to ‘prove’ to this boy that the Carrows were not to be messed with, and that the Dark Lord favored them more. Alecto had been hesitant––I felt it in her bones. She had never killed anyone before––had never used the Cruciatus curse on anything other than rabbits or squirrels. ‘Do it,’ her father had whispered in her ear, ‘or you’ll be sorry later.’

And so, she did it. But it didn’t go quite as planned. The boy had been sleeping in his bed, hadn’t even noticed as the two slipped in. She pointed me at his unsuspecting figure and uttered the curse, but as he writhed in pain his neck snapped backward and he died before Carlisle even had a chance to murmur the Killing Curse under his breath. Alecto had killed him––had killed a young man, when she was only ten years old. It had shaken the girl, understandably, but it had also excited her. She had felt the thrill associated with the kill, and once that had happened, the last shred of humanity that had been lingering within her for some months now had withered and died. She was Alecto Saligia Rose Carrow, and she was a killer. From then on, her life was different––both she and I knew it. She started to stand up to her father and was more open about her hatred for her weak, sniveling mother. Her father died not a month after he was found to be the culprit of the young Death Eater’s death––he was going to be sent to a trial but, unable to face that shame, Carlisle packed his things one night, got on the night bus, and drowned himself in the Thames. Alecto and her mother knew, but they never told little Amycus what had happened to his father. Wynona claimed he’d be too fool to understand, and Alecto was never very open with things toward her brother anyway. Alecto was glad, though, privately, that her father was dead. Things were easier, now, despite the fact that her mother was so distraught that she was bedridden and Amycus was brooding and often alone. Alecto didn’t have much time to really care, though, for she soon received her expected letter from Hogwarts. With the few galleons she could extract from her mother, Alecto bought herself new supplies and was off a few weeks later, me in tow. I particularly enjoyed being around all the other wands, and human interaction, though stilted at first, proved to be good for Alecto. She befriended many of the pureblood elite, such as the Black sisters, Malfoy, and Snape. She has a particular detestation for Regulus Black, though she has taken a liking to his older brother, despite his loyalties. She finds Sirius more attractive and less arrogant, I suppose––at least, from what I could gather from their interactions in potions class. She liked him more than she liked anyone else, anyway, which was odd, considering he was a Gryffindor and she despised them on principle. She’d never really been a social climber, so it wasn’t even that she liked him for that reason––it was just that she liked him, plain and simple. And then there was Jagger, too––Jagger, whose neck-snapping death eerily reminded Alecto of her first kill. But beyond her love life, Alecto was a good student. Take it from me. She didn’t cheat and she didn’t blow assignments off, and she’d actually practice with me late at night at certain spells or incantations she’d learned that day. Having been sorted into Slytherin made sense, but on occasion I think both myself and her teachers were a bit mystified by her work ethic. She was a top student––it was undeniable. But why? Did it stem from her need to prove herself, to be known and appreciated by everyone? Or, rather just to be known? She wasn’t appreciated as much by the teachers, after she started acting more like a Slytherin and getting herself into trouble.

But what was the point of it all, Alecto would ask herself? Why did she try? She knew that as soon as she got off the tiny spit of a campus that was Hogwarts she would be receiving her Dark Mark. It was all but unofficial yet––Alecto had joined the Avid Frog Lovers society and had been convinced to join along with her friends Severus and Bellatrix. Becoming a Death Eater seemed only natural to Alecto, who had known naught but death and decay in her life. Her father had died when she was ten and her mother followed a year later, and Alecto and Amycus were on their own. She’d been lonely and moody and belonging to something excited her––she wanted to be included in a group that appreciated her and that wouldn’t just abandon her whenever they felt like it. Alecto was done playing games, done being alone, and what she wanted more than anything was to use what skills she had to survive. But what she really wanted was an excuse to kill. Did she believe muggles and muggleborns were second class citizens and deserved to be exterminated? Partially. The lies her mother and father had told her about the superiority of purebloods had in some fashion gotten to her. But what Alecto really wanted was some security and stability in her life. What she really wanted was a good enough reason to pull me out from behind her ear and wield some of the most powerful dark magic I’ve ever experienced. What she really wanted was adventure with no strings attached. If it got her out of the house most days, that was just about all she could ask for. Her little kiss-ass brother was annoying as hell, or so she’d phrased it in her mind, and escaping for a few hours to hunt down muggle sympathizers was as thrilling to Alecto as would be the hunt to a lioness. I can feel the way she responds to the fight––can sense the way her heart throbs and her veins pulsate with adrenaline. It’s not so much that she’s even loyal to the Dark Lord, so much as it is that she is loyal to her lifestyle. She’s hardened and cruel, malicious and brutal––but she is her own master, as well as mine.



Sample Post: One for Alice, one for Regulus, one for Ted, and one for Severus.

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{ C O N T R A C T }

I solemnly swear that I, FIEF, have read the rules, understand clearly what my responsibilities are now that I am joining ISS, and will abide by these standards set by the staff.

[Andromeda Black]

ACCEPTED

freakin' amazing app. like... seriously. <3