Chapter 1 : The White Horse
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Who are the Four Horsemen? The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse is actually a concept found in the Book of Revelation- the last book of the New Testament. According to this book, God held a scroll that had seven seals. The first four seals, when opened, let out the four horsemen- agents of destruction and devastation. These horsemen were to bring about the end of our world, the apocalypse.
My story incorporates this idea into the world of Harry Potter. It focuses on four children of the next generation and how they relate to these horsemen. Other than this, the story is not even remotely connected to the Bible or Christianity. Please keep in mind that this is my interpretation of the concept. It may not coincide with the actual interpretation. All I request you, wonderful readers, is to keep an open mind and to enjoy the story. As usual, you opinions and reviews are welcome.
The White Horse
"And I saw, and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer." (Rev. 6:2 KJV)
Victoire Weasley was looking out of her open bedroom window, like Rapunzel in her tower. However, unlike Rapunzel, she could never be confined within anything. No relationship could hold her down. It was rather ironic that she was to be married that day.
Her long blonde hair fluttered in the summer breeze. Its shade rivaled the morning sunshine- so golden and bright. Her eyes possessed an inner sparkle, resembling aquamarines when polished and refined. Like these gems, Victoire did not possess it naturally, it was created after years of practice. Her pulchritude was often compared to the goddess Venus herself. It is a shame that in this world, beauty is often deceiving and that the fairest among all may bring about the darkest of times.
Victoire turned her attention to the dress that lay on her bed, the dress she was to wear today while playing the part of a glowing bride. It was a pure white ensemble fastened together with threads of gold. It was beautiful, just like herself. She stroked the silky fabric, unable to pluck up the courage to actually put it on.
There was something so addictive about singledom, a life without the bonds of marriage that ties people down. This was especially true for a person such as Victoire, who had men drooling at her feet. They adored her, worshipped her even. Her glances were like arrows, their hearts were her targets. They were like moths attracted to the flame- willing to throw themselves headfirst into the fire, if only she spared them a second glance. Victoire went through boyfriends just as one might go through clothes. She left every one of them broken hearted, wondering what had gone wrong. Hadn’t they given her all they could? Victoire chuckled, a sound devoid of any happiness. They were all so foolish. Did they really think that they meant anything to her?
Even Teddy Lupin as her groom, who would be waiting for her at the end of the aisle later that day meant nothing to her. Her sweet words, flirting and courting were all one big act. He was just another of her conquests. Perhaps a bit bigger than the rest, but no more than a conquest. Conquest wasn’t a strange topic for Victoire- her name did mean Victory, after all. She could win anything she wanted.
Everyone who knew Victoire couldn’t help but be enamored by her. Not to her precisely, but her facade of liveliness and warmth that made her a person everyone wanted to know. She could make them jump off a bridge without them even realizing what they were doing. She’d even convinced the sorting Hat to place her in Gryffindor when it was seriously considering Slytherin. She was always the golden girl, the perfect one. No one saw what lurked underneath it all and no one ever would. She would make sure of that.
The thing about Victoire was that people obeyed her command. Today would be like any other day. She would wear her golden crown, ruling over everyone with her charm. She was their leader though they were all oblivious to the fact, blinded by her mere form. They were under her control, under an uncast spell.
With a mirthless smile on her lips she strode over to her desk, littered with letters of past lovers, boys who believed that they still had a chance. They would never understand their true value to Victoire, the fact that they were indeed nothing but proof of her unrestrained power over them.
Tutting slightly, Victoire stashed the letters in a drawer. It was not the time to gloat over her past victories. When it was all over, when everything had come to an end, she would be known as Conquest, the first horseman of the apocalypse.
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