The Death of the Swan PV Eris

She often found herself wandering around the castle. Not out of anything besides boredom, really. At the start of the year, she’d often found herself traversing through hidden passages and tripping behind tapestries, in the pathetic attempt to hide from people she considered friends. It wasn’t that she wanted to be away from people, back then. Eris just found it hard to talk to people, when all she remembered was days spent alone in the Hospital Wing, burning from the inside out. Tracing a slender finger down the expanse of her arm, Eris still could feel the puckered skin, abrasions still present upon her skin. Symbols of a darker time, when one could not walk through Hogwarts without feeling fear and checking behind their back.

She saw flashes of fire and the echo of screams in her dreams, and the smoke rising from her own body before she passed out on the floor. Sometimes, she almost remembered the thudding of her body, as Dorian dragged her through the hallway. Even if she didn’t remember that, she remembered the bruises after that instance. But, Eris still had faith in herself and what she believed. She also still have faith in revenge, and how she would find whoever made her into a less scarred version of Two-Face. Not just for herself, but for her friends as well. They had all lost so much, had seen far more than any child should ever have to deal with.

Eris had known fear, far deeper and more alarming than what the first years this year felt. It made her angry, often. Just thinking about all she had been through, and how it mattered little. She had suffered, plaintively, but now things were quiet. The figures, the person behind Ben’s violent burning, was hidden. Maybe that was good, but it left nothing for her to attack. It left no assured person or thing to put the blame on, and for that, she was able to wallow on her own. Just spending days wallowing, with nothing to define or attack.

She found some kind of peace in wandering throughout Hogwarts. Even now that things were shaping up, and talking to friends was an activity that was often done, Eris liked the peace of wandering through the school. Although she would never admit to it, it became a duty of sorts. Already wanting to be a young auror, it was simply routine for her to pretend to be a superhero, or an auror, as she stalked the halls of the school like a young vigilante, ensuring that nothing was amiss.

She even did this after dark. Sometimes out of boredom, but mostly because Eris could never sleep. She could never rest her eyes down without seeing the imprint of burning flesh and silent promises to end her life. No, she found it easier to wander around the school. Besides, she knew all the prefect patrol routes. She knew where to hide, how to make sure she wouldn’t be found. Her daylight excursions were less risky, but she still had a habit of avoiding the prefects, even if it was just to prove that she could hide from them. That they couldn’t catch her! Hah. She shouldn’t have been fired. She was a lot better at hiding and catching people who were trying to hide.

Her combat boots stomped against the halls, and for a moment, Eris stopped walking to jump up and down. Letting out a faint smile at the loud noise that her new shoes made, she made a mental note to write to her grandmum and thank her for the boots. The boots were sturdy shoes and had been given to her because Eris had already ruined her last pair of shoes; a beautiful black pair of Mary Janes. She had loved those shoes, but sadly, caring about her shoes wasn’t something Eris had time for. After stomping through mud, puddles, and running in the delicate shoes, they had fallen apart before her very eyes.

The noise of her stomps rung in the hallways, against the perfectly washed floors, for a faint moment. She was about to stomp again, before the most god awful sound she had ever heard pierced through the hallways. Eris’ first reaction was to blink. Time ran still, as she began to worry over what on earth that could have been. There then was a terrible crash, and Eris had yanked her wand out of the pockets of her robes.

Pulling out the wand, she paused for a moment, feeling around in the abyss of her school robes. Was that candy? Ah. She could eat it later. Her stomping boots began the journey forward, as she sprinted towards the ringing sound of the noise. She burst through the door to the Rehearsal Room, half expecting to see a cult or a bunch of evil people, but instead, there was a girl and a fallen trumpet.

“Oh.” She pocketed her wand and blinked again, rubbing at her eyes. She then frowned, raising an eyebrow and looking around at the chaos with a deeply confused expression. A twinge of amusement on her face, her cheeks were flushed from the slight embarrassment that she had misunderstood the situation so horribly.

However, she was glad that nobody evil was in the room. But, this was weird. Very weird. She stared, coughing. “OH GOD, Don’t do it again.” She barged in, as the girl put the trumpet to her lips again.

“Please. You sound worse than my granddad lecturing about pureblood families.” She finished, wincing. “No offence, but...yikes.”

When Mari looked up, she noticed a girl, scarred horribly, who was red with embarrassment, though Mari could not fathom why. She flinched a bit at the girl's appearance, though she thankfully realized that this flinching could easily be misconstrued as shock that someone else was in the room. No offense to her, but...she looks bad. Mari mulled on the thought, staring a tad too long at the scars. What happened to her?

Her reverie was interrupted as she realized that the girl was talking: "Please. You sound worse than my granddad lecturing about pureblood families. No offence, but...yikes.”

Mari stood in silence, gripping the trumpet more tightly. Her fingers moved the valves fruitlessly, as there was no breath to produce sound. Why is her face red? She wondered, a furrow forming in her brow. It kind of matches her hair. But I'm the one who was just discovered, clearly in a place that I don't belong...

In the long, awkward pause, she opened her mouth a few times, only to close them with each effort. Oh Mari, she thought, as her thoughts seemed to be the only thing that worked now. You already looked like a fool to this older girl, and now you're just standing there, looking like a Muppet with severe laryngitis. Speak!

"My dad gave it to me," she nodded downward toward the trumpet but did not return her gaze. She was afraid the scars would make her speechless again. "I was...kind of hoping no one would be here. Do you play?"

Mari raised her eyes to the girls hand, noting two things: the first being that the girl did not have any sort of instrument in her hand, the second, she was carrying her wand. Mari's eyes widened; her face twisted into a grimace that contorted her normally fine-looking face. While she normally would be self-conscious of how, quite honestly, ugly she looked, Mari was more bothered by the presence of that wand. Was she going to attack me?

The silence had been too long again. Mari was aware that she lived in her thoughts, but the habit had lately been quite damaging to her social skills. Speak, Mari, speak! she thought urgently, but her mind for words to say was blank. She merely opened her mouth again; realizing that she was embracing her speechless Muppet face again, she went with the only word that she could think of: "Um."

In that moment, her eyes raised back to the girls face and her mouth decided, just then, to speak, though the words that came out were quite possibly the last words she wanted to say. "What happened?"

Oh no oh no ohno ohno ohnoohnoohno... Her eyes began to well; this was not going well at all. No wonder Lucy no longer responded to her owls; she had this embarrassment of a sister. Lucy would have made some clever joke about why she was murdering a swan with her trumpet notes, instead of making a further fool of herself. Lucy would have somehow befriended this girl, even though she was clearly older and seemed to be on the attack. Lucy should have been the older one, not Mari. Mari was a fool. The only thing that she had going for her right now was that the tears remained in the ducts; not a solitary tear fell.

"Sorry," Mari murmured, lowering her gaze back to the floor. She didn't deserve to look up any further. "You really don't need to answer that. 'S none of my business."

The flinch was enough for Eris. Within seconds, all the scars had vanished away. Sometimes being a metamorphamagus was a talent that Eris was glad for. However, she wasn't always in favour of getting rid of her scars. In fact, when the nurse had asked her if she wanted the scars removed with magical paste, Eris had earnestly said no and denied any right to do so. In her young mind, she had earned the scars. They were a badge of honour and guilt, put together into one raised line of skin upon her face. A reminder that she had failed in stopping the masked man, but had gotten close enough to almost reach him.

A tantalizing tale of her life, and who she was as a person. And, a bit of a message to her pureblood family. She would never be the perfect pureblood daughter, content with creamy white skin and illusive smiles, hidden in the shadows and waiting to marry into another bloodline. She prefers being fiery and wild, even if some did not approve of it. But, Eris was always a wildcard. It was who she was as a person, and there was no changing that. She accepted that, in her own short, confused childish way.

Sometimes, when thinking about the past, her scars got worse. But, now, the earlier scarring was gone completely. It was a gift and a curse, the ability to change her facial apperance at will. For, even if Eris wanted her scars as a reminder, other people did not. She had since learned that there was a time and place for everything, and the faint bumps and blemished skin upon her face grew more agitated in some lightings, while also occasionally vanishing all together on their own. But, with the subtle prodding of metamorphamagus abilities, they could either look as bad as Two-Face or vanish all together.

Rubbing at her face, Eris admired the oddly smooth spots where scars had once been. She always found that strange but was quite used to it. Most events, her grandfather made her get rid of the scars. Especially around her father, who's fragile mental health could hardly handle seeing his strange daughter with any markings on her face that reminded him that she wasn't his little girl.

She found the girl in the room mildly amusing, watching the way her mouth opened and closed like a confused toy or a doll. It made her giggle, but Eris quickly muffled her giggle with a faint cough, coughing into the sleeve of her oversized robes. There were no robes that fit her, and even when they were custom fitted, Eris prefered her robes larger than her. It made her feel like a dragon, especially when she flapped her arms and pretended to run around like she was flying. Or when she was really in the air.

When the hufflepuff said that her father had gifted her the trumpet, Eris nodded her head. Her father had once given her comic books and toys before he eventually ran away from home and found himself in a ward at St. Mungos. Rubbing at her face again, Eris forced a faint smile to her lips.

Oblivious to the fact that the other girl refused to meet her eyes, Eris kept speaking. "No, I don't play. I did once run into a professor in here, playing piano. I liked that. If I wanted to learn anything, I think it would be the piano."

While talking, Eris looked around the room and deemed that it was safe. No hidden figure waiting to jump out and attack the girls, and nothing else evil lingering in the shadows. With a bit of a sigh, she pocketed her wand in the left pocket of her robes. The far less dirty pocket. The right pocket was covered in wrappers of sweats and notes from classes, but she kept the left one free for her wand at all times.

As she opened her mouth to ask if the girl often found herself alone in the Rehearsal room, which was quite an isolated part of Hogwarts, she found Mari's eyes upon her again. And then the question.

That goddamn question. What happened to your face? Blah, blah blah. Same question. The girl had gotten straight to it, and it wasn't like Eris was annoyed with it. However, Eris sensed some type of guilt from the Hufflepuff, as she let out an airy chuckle.

"It's fine." Her voice was rather bitter, the words clipped and careful. "Last year, there was a masked man at school. I went to stop him. He burnt me."

Before her eyes, the scars disappeared. Mari blinked and instinctively put a hand to her own face to see if it had changed, despite the fact that she had not had scars in the first place. Everything was exactly the same for her. The other girl, on the other hand...that was weird. If Mari did not know any better, she'd say it was impossible. This was the wizarding world, however... It seemed that some people were able to shape their features like modeling clay.

Mari, despite being a half-blood, grew up quite unaware of the wizarding world. Although she loved her father very much, Mari internally scolded him as she wondered how the girl had managed to just make her scars disappear like that. If Ewan hadn't felt so uncomfortable by discussions of magic, perhaps she'd know if this ability was normal, learned, or resemblant of dark magic. She felt a slight bit of foreboding as she looked at the girl, wondering if she dare ask the question.

She decided against it, instead taking in this girl who was, for the most part, the same but felt entirely new. The girl had, in turn, rubbed her own face while Mari grew more puzzled. Her face scrunched in concentration as she wondered, Perhaps she hadn't intended it? Or maybe I imagined the whole thing happening?

She was staring. She couldn't help it. It was all so very strange.

Lost in thought, Mari did not think much of the cough. It was reasonable to have colds or allergies this time of year; perhaps if she had a throat lozenge she wouldn't feel quite so idiotic. Alas, she did not, so she just looked at the girl further, accepting that silence was her mode of speech for this moment. Her robes were large, ill-fitted and larger than what seemed comfortable; though Mari was also small, she had not found it very difficult to find robes that fit her. She wondered if the girl was poor. Perhaps, given her weird skill, she was one of those people that was discriminated against in the wizarding world and had to instead rely on hand-me-downs due to the poverty of isolation. Of course, she could ask, but she had already breeched acceptable modes of communication thus far and would be best to keep her thoughts to herself.

"Piano," she murmured, finally, as a response to the girl's statement. She supposed that she hadn't realized that professors had hobbies and passions beyond the classroom. She tried to imagine what she would do if she had run into a professor anywhere other than their classroom. Mari didn't dare stop by a professor's office hours, even, fearful of their admonishments and lectures. If she ran into one of them outside of those two locations, it would surely go about as awfully as this interaction. (Did she not think every interaction was awful? It sure seemed like it.) Somehow, the thought of piano soothed her, even with the idea of a professor playing it. Its dulcet tones had a way of calming even the most anxious of individuals. With a small smile on her face, she added, "That seems nice. Maybe that professor could teach you."

There, there; words weren't so hard now, were they? She had gotten out about ten words without difficulty. They had sounded normal. She could, perhaps, do this, have a conversation like a normal person. Somehow, she felt like she said that with every conversation. Maybe Lucy would teach her how to be a proper child this summer.

The feeling of relaxation didn't last for long, however, as she remembered the sudden movements from her conversation partner while she had been talking. Was it something Mari had said, even though she had barely said any words before that point? Was she going to attack her? Surely, Mari hadn't looked like a threat, with her many mouth movements, silent thoughts, and invasive questions. Puzzlement filled her face again as she perused the girl, as if trying to read her. Unfortunately, that read gave no answers. Mari was terribly confused as to why that had just happened; why, for that matter, any of the girl's actions had happened.

Whatever the girl was feeling, it was clear that she did not like Mari's question. That, of course, Mari knew; it was why her gaze had dropped to the floor in the first lace. Normal people, she knew, didn't generally ask others upon introduction why they had scars. Come to think of it, they hadn't even had an introduction; Mari had yet to learn the girl's name. She knew she'd better ask it soon, as 'Scarface' seemed quite an inconsiderate nickname for her, and she already had coined a 'Red' and a 'Red 2.0.' 'Red 2.0 2.0' seemed to be pushing it a bit far. She just didn't know how to introduce herself, given that they were already talking about masked men and inconceivable things like threats upon Hogwarts.

So, yet again, she decided against it. Nodding to the girl's robes, she said solemnly, "That's...very brave of you. No wonder you're a Gryffindor." Then, still a little fearful of the answer but figuring she was already on a slippery slope of intrusive questions, she decided to ask the question she had neglected before: "And how did you...erm...your face?"

Maybe the girl would understand. Mari didn't really know how to describe what had happened to those scars, as there was still the chance that Mari was actually crazy and needed to go to the Hospital Wing. She fingered the valves of the trumpet absentmindedly, hoping that, if she was crazy, at least it would seem that her poor social skills were a direct result of such an ailment.

My deepest apologies for such a long wait! Been busy with staff matters and health issues. Thank you for baring with me!<3

Eris found the hufflepuff’s reactions to be amusing, to be honest. They were childlike reactions, reminiscent of what Eris would have done in a situation such as this one, if cornered by a feral animal. Eris figured she must look a bit feral, curling hair and oversized robes giving her the appearance of an apparition of some sorts. Perhaps she looked like Mindy the Jungle girl. But, Eris couldn’t fault Mari’s reactions, not when she would have done something similar. She had never been one for being polite and skirting around a conversation topic. If she had seen a girl with the ability to change her appearance, without knowing what metamorphmagus magic was…?

Yes, she’d have done the same. Albeit, with far more cursing and a bit less of a worried demeanor. Eris could never find it in herself to feel worried about interactions with other students. Not anymore, after what Ben had done. There was too much worry in the world to live life dwelling on it. Everything could go wrong, so why worry? It was just life. So, she kept going through it with a rambunctious ease and little worry to accompany that.

Her face had changed marginally, but much of her appearance was the same. Naturally, her eyes were the swirling muddy brown of a brandy glass, left overnight to stay in the sunlight. The girl’s eyes were almond shaped and feline in nature, narrowed and cunning, as if studying everything and everyone around her. While not too small or too large, her eyes were never bloodshot or tired, even after nights spent studying. Dark shadows lingered under the girl’s eyes, especially in the wake of bad nights sleep or terrifying ordeal, but her eyes stayed the same--wide eyed, but quick to narrow at the first sign of danger or challenge.

Her eyes focused in flutters of of assessment, before darting around the room to study everything she could see, almost like she thought there wasn’t enough time to capture everything. Her eyes darted around, unable to stand still and focus on one thing.

Yet if one stopped to stare, they would see eyes deep set into the hallows of her pale face. Most of her emotions could be seen through the swirling brown of burgundies and tawny hues, which were quick to narrow or widen. Easily the most defining trait of an otherwises plain and underweight face, alert eyes were framed by wrinkled eyelids, devoid of any makeup or other defining traits.

And her hair was still its usual red, with cool tones of brown flaking and accentuating the sun-kissed ray of orange light that nearly erupted from her head like the fires of a volcano. Everywhere one looked, there was untamed locks of hair, their candy coated strands falling to her shoulders in sweeping waves of orange. Once at the neckline, the curling strands of hair seemed to stop growing and fighting to go downwards, the hair lying stagnant at her neck. There were no split ends to be seen, but maybe that was another perk of being a metamorphmagus. The more wispy strands of baby hair were tied back in a half-up half down bun of sorts, which kept the hair out of Eris's face. When her hair wasn't up, Eris could often be seen violently shoving hair away from her eyes and face. It could be inferred from her hair that it was naturally rather curly, but days of living with her grandparents and being forced to keep her hair straight with her budding abilities had made Eris careless and lazy about her hair. Which in turn, lead to the disarray of spilling red locks.

To add to the girl’s appearance, her skin was pale as ivory. Not only that, she was freakishly short. Short to the point where she didn’t look like a 12 year old. She looked far younger, reaching a whooping height of 4’3 at the age of twelve. Delicate looking and unable to tan, Eris could almost be classified as fragile. She was skinny, nearly too skinny to be considered healthy. Being homeless for so long had taught the small girl that eating often was something rare and hard to come by, and her stress levels had made it far too hard to shove down food lately.

But, under her exterior demeanour of a fragile girl with pale skin and a skinny body, she reeked of money and privilege. Her shoes were shiny and looked brand new, even if they had been enchanted to look perfect and new forever, by her grandmother and house elf. Her robes, while oversized, were made of rich fabric. The red of her gryffindor colors seemed to jump out, and the clips valiantly trying to hold her hair back swirled between colours, almost like mood rings. Eris Fawley was a pureblood, and even with all her lack of physical care, she had the riches and money to look beautiful and well clothed.

Besides money and fragility, Eris was full of undeniable inner strength, and that strength was easy to see in the moment, as Eris fixated her brown eyes upon Mari and found herself enthralled by the weird look she was making. The lack of talking was so weird! This hufflepuff girl reminded her of Kaegen, really. Strange. Very, veery, strange.

Eris had always been talkative, and at Hogwarts, most were also talkative. She hadn’t talked to many who were shy. She’d talked to short girls and lots of girls with red hair, but never anyone who was shy. This was such a weird interaction. She looked at Mari expectantly, scratching at her neck.

Any Day now… any day…. She was opening her mouth! A conversation! Mayday, mayday. She did it! Eris was about to start beaming before the words slipped out of the hufflepuff’s mouth and Eris muffled a groan.

Eris was snapped out of her thoughts. They were still talking about piano and Maya Galim. Ugh. Boring. “Piano.” She agreed, but added onto the conversation, simply because she liked the sound of her own voice quite a bit. She then giggled, shaking her head.

“Professor Galim teaching me anything? Oh, please. My grandad would throw a fit. Eris Fawley, heir to the Rowle and Fawley names...playing Piano with the muggle studies teacher?” She clasped a hand over her heart, pretending to stab herself, as she dramatically leaned back upon the wall. “Actually, on second thought.. .just to make my grandad mad. Maybe I will ask Professor Galim. But..I did kinda, er..”She paused to scratch at her neck again, seeming a bit amused and a bit sheepish. “Yell at her.”

Her smile faded within moments, as Eris detached herself from the wall and sighed. Her hair turned blue. Just thinking about the situation filled Eris with such melancholy energy, that her very hair reacted. She..she hadn’t felt very Gryffindor-y. She had failed the school by not catching the Masked man, but how could this girl know that?

Glad for the change of topic back to her face, Eris shrugged her shoulders, slowly getting over her stupor. “Okay, wow. That’s a story, you know. You aware of the Jane Rowle bull? If so, yeah. If not, long story short? I’m a metamorphamagus.”

When the girl said "piano" and giggled, Mari laughed with her. She didn't really get the joke, entirely - well, she did, certainly the girl was laughing at her for her idiocy - but thought that perhaps if she laughed along, it would seem like everything was intentional and Mari was actually a super cool human being. No one would be fooled, of course, but maybe if they pretended the lie would eventually feel like truth. She was thrilled, however, to see that the girl spoke more and loosened up ever so slightly at her words.

But, to be quite honest, what the girl said confused her...why would anyone have a problem with someone learning piano from a professor? Especially a Muggle Studies one? Mari's mother had loved Muggles so much that she hadn't even used her magic in years. She had left Hogwarts and almost immediately started as a barmaid, met Mari's dad, and embraced the Muggle lifestyle fully. Mari hadn't even known she was a witch until her Hogwarts letter arrived. It was a very atypical experience, but it was Mari's experience, and she couldn't imagine feeling differently.

If the girl hadn't been telling all these facts about herself, even if she told them in the most ambiguous way possible, Mari may not have asked. But perhaps it was time to take a risk. She so rarely did so, wouldn't even act on things that were extremely low-risk. This girl had seemed to show that no question was a bad question, especially given that Mari had asked her questions in the most ridiculous ways possible. Today was the day. She'd ask the girl, actually speak what was on her mind.

She gulped, looked straight at the girl's face, and wondered, "Why would they care? It's just...my mum didn't even tell me she was a witch, because she loved Muggles so much. I don’t know why anyone would have a problem with them.”

She paused. Mari had completely ignored the fact that the girl had said she yelled at Professor Galim. Did she not like Muggle lovers either? Mari became suddenly very anxious and lowered her eyes back to the ground. She was a Muggle lover...she didn’t want to be yelled at. But again, the girl had proven that she would answer questions, and she hadn’t yelled at her yet... Tentatively, always tentatively, with her eyes still cast towards the floor, she inquired, “And...why did you yell at her?”

There wasn’t anything particularly noteworthy about Mari Haynes, but if someone walked in on the pair at this very moment, they would really realize how unremarkable she was. While the other girl stuck out a bit because of her oversized robes, pale skin, and shadowed eyes, Mari would shrink back into the background. Her robes fit her exactly, she was well-rested (it’s inevitable when you don’t have many people to socialize with), her curly brown hair was neatly styled. She didn’t have any distinguishing figures that would be visible, especially when she was wearing robes. To top it off, her personality was forgettable. Clearly. She could hardly get any words out. She may as well have renamed herself “Muffly” instead of “Mari” in childhood, as she was quite muffled in speech and muted. Never mind the fact that Muffled had no commonalities to Marianna besides the M.

She dared to lift her gaze to eye the girl once more. The Gryffindor seemed remarkable, quite the opposite of the Hufflepuff. Mari scrunched her face in a way of concentration that was likely to project discomfort to anyone around her as she gazed upon the girl’s face. It took her a moment to realize her face had changed once more - it was now blue. While that was striking in and of itself, she was more focused on the rest of the girl's features. She was skinny. She was pale. She looked wealthy (Mari did finally realize that the robes, though oversized, were made of nice fabric) but not quite altogether there. Strange, wasn't she.

The confusion lingered when the bluehead said "Jane Rowle bull." Mari had realized just how slow she could be once she had interacted with a few students around Hogwarts. This interaction would be no different. The words confused her because she just couldn't comprehend, well, any of them. Who was Jane Rowle? Why was her bull so special? If Mari was just a tad more exposed to the real world, she would realize that bull was a censored version of bullshit, but alas, she was as innocent as her youngest sister. But she was on a roll, so she asked, "What about her bull? Metamorphmagus, though, I think I've read about that once...have you always been that way?"

Cool, the girl was cool, now that Mari was aware of her hidden talent. She may not understand a single word that she said, but there was a desire to learn more, a hunger that made her feel as though she had met the most interesting student at Hogwarts.

Eris stared at Mari like she was daft, strands of blue hair falling into her face. The blue only darkened, other colours running through the hair like the waves of a storming sea. Akin to her mood, her hair seemed to grow even more morose. But, there was also an incredulous expression upon Eris’ face, as she realised how little Mari knew. When she had been a first year, she had spent hours upon hours learning about the wizarding world. How strange it was, to see someone who hadn’t gone through all the same effort. Eris thought it was a bit stupid, to not learn as much as possible about the world they were living in, when it was so different than the old world. Eris had lived in a crummy flat with her insane mum and sister, and now she lived in a castle. How crazy was that? Why would someone not want to learn every single thing they could about a world that was so secret, but had things as cool as castles with ghosts?

For once, she made no attempt to brush the hair out of her face, an expression of immense guilt flashing over her dumbfounded expression. Looking down at her feet, suddenly reduced to a fit of shyness, Eris sighed loudly. It wasn’t really a frustrated sound, as her prior sighs had been, but rather a noise of discontent and a bitter acceptance of something she would have to address, even if she prefered not to. Uneasily, she hopped from foot to foot. She placed the weight on each foot, swaying back and forth for a minute. Her energy, usually hyperactive, was now nervous energy, as she shifted back and forth and thought.

It was always hard to explain her family’s prejudice. She didn’t have an issue with muggleborns, really. Rosie Parker was one of her best friends, and Eris never really would understand the way that her family and other purebloods were able to so easily talk about men and women who weren’t of their bloodstatus like they were below them. From the way she understood it, perhaps as part of her odd upbringing, with a father who couldn’t remember pureblood customs and an insane mother, Eris simply thought muggleborns were wizards like the rest of them. Just, not as powerful. But, why punish people who weren’t as powerful? Tony Stark wasn’t as powerful as Thor, but people still liked him!

Rubbing tiredly at her eyes, Eris sighed again. She sounded far too morose for a child, the inflection of an elder, more grief stricken adult coursing through her body and tone. Whoever this girl was, it was clear she understood little of wizarding society. Maybe even less than Eris had understood when she first joined Hogwarts. So, with trepidation that shook throughout her whole body, Eris took to explaining the brutal history of her world and her family, retelling it as a story. She found it easier to hear, when it was considered a story, not a violent and heinous history of entitlement. In her mind, stories were better than the real world. Which was why she liked Hogwarts so much. Living in a castle, practicing magic? She felt like she was a character in X-men.

“Before my parents even went to Hogwarts, my great grandparents lived in France. Their names were Maria Yaxley and Charles Fawley. They were huge supporters of this guy, Grindelwald. They believed that only purebloods deserved magic, because muggleborns were taking our magic. Muggleborns don’t deserve magic, according to them. They think muggles are less than us. And, my parents were raised thinking the same stuff. It’s just, like, offensive for my family and other pureblood families to see muggle borns in positions of power. Because, they don’t feel like it's deserved. And, the even bigger issue for them is that our numbers are diminishing, while more and more muggleborns pop up.”

“ My grandmum is cool about it, though.She grew up in a less horrible family. The Winchesters. They were fine with muggles and muggleborns, but my grandad loathes anything that isn’t..well, himself. When they met my best friend, my granddad threatened him because he wasn’t a pureblood.” She hadn’t thought about that sleepover in a very long time, and her brows furrowed just envisioning how simple things had been back then. She wished she was back at home with Adam, talking about matagots and Captain America.

Everything about Eris Fawley was extraordinary. From her hair to her name, the girl had been born into a line destined for greatness. Yet, she never had truly wanted it. Her ideal future would be sitting on a couch with comic books about Captain America, while Captain America movies played on the TV. It was that simple, but as she thought and recited her complicated family tree, Eris’ visions of a future for herself faded away and melted into the unformitiy of pureblood life. She had nothing to desire, for she had all she wanted. Right?

Right. At least she had remembered her great grandparent’s names. Both were long since dead, but her grandfather insisted upon learning about her heritage, and the stories of the pureblood world. She secretly thought it was because he wanted her to be like him someday, but she never would. Shifting on her feet again, listening to Mari’s words, Eris shrugged her shoulders.

“She was a professor, and she didn’t do anything to help me when I was burnt alive.” She answered. In truth, Maya had been a victim of circumstance. Eris hadn’t been on the lookout for professors to hate upon, but Maya Galim had been there. And, Eris’ anger had showed up out of nowhere and latched onto the poor woman. Although, Eris felt little regret over the moment. It had been gloriously liberating to let her anger out. Her anger was mostly directed towards the system, not professors in general. But, the lack of caring in general was something that ate at her, egging her on and turning her passion into bitterness.

Onto the next question, Eris shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve always been this way, but my mum gave me potions to make sure my abilities didn’t show up. That’s part of her bull, you know? She was insane and stuff.” She didn’t say more on the matter, waiting for more questions about the topic that she never really could wrap her mind around.

The incredulous expression that appeared on the Gryffindor's face made Mari's face fall. She couldn't even begin to imagine what she had done wrong; it was an innocent question, wasn't it? She thought back to her question once more, repeating the words over and over until they felt like a jumbled mess in her brain, a puzzle that she couldn't understand. Her eyes glazed over as she wondered, until the girl's sigh breaking her dream-like trance. As she refocused her eyes to the scene before her, Mari noted that the girl was now shifting back and forth in her own mind. It was as though she had passed off the mindlessness that sometimes comes with thinking.

She studied the girl silently, eyes wide open. What was she thinking? Was she about to burst out in anger at Mari for asking such a foolish question? Did she no longer think her questions were of worth? Mari had half a mind to just take her trumpet and leave, forget the whole conversation, but she stayed out of pure curiosity, wondering what the girl's next move was.

Once again, Mari was struck with how different the girl seemed. She looked sad, morose even, as if life was too miserable to continue living. Though they had not established ages, she was clearly not a seventh year, the oldest she could possibly be - yet she acted as though she had enough life experiences to be one. The blue-haired individual seemed far different from the bold, fiery-haired one that had entered just a few minutes prior. Did metamorphmagi experience personality changes with their transition? Her lack of knowledge proved to be a downfall once more, as Mari had no knowledge that emotions and physical transformations in metamorphmagi were closely linked. Doing the bare minimum in schoolwork led to ignorance, sometimes.

The girl finally spoke, and Mari could not help but continue to stare wide-eyed as she led Mari on the adventure that was her family. Her jaw loosened when the blue-haired girl spoke of Muggles taking Purebloods' magic, and Mari faintly realized she was staring with the same dumb expression she had previously. When the Gryffindor had finished, Mari frowned and slowly murmured, "I...wow." Then, in a moment of pure fright: "But what about me? I'm not Pureblood or Muggleborn...I'm a half-blood. Does that mean I don't deserve to exist either, all cause of my dad?"

There was one common thread that Mari did recognize, however, in the girl's statement; Mari's dad, like the girl's grandad, did not particularly like magic, as it was unfamiliar. Of course, she was only slightly aware that a huge portion of that aversion was due to the fact that it reflected something greater: Isa's lies. To Mari, it seemed as though Ewan did not like magic because he was not magic, though she was shocked that as the year went on, he seemed more open to talking to her about her time at Hogwarts. Before she had known of her magical ability, it was never discussed - that's why she didn't even know. Before she left Hogwarts, Mari only got the minimum amount of information, information she had to extract from Isa when Ewan was away. This girl, however, made Mari keenly aware of how little she knew; she wondered if Ewan had truly changed his ways enough to Mari could learn more or if she would enter second year just as unaware as some first years. It would be a shame, but it was a plausible reality.

The silence suddenly made her uncomfortable. The girl had shared so much, and yet Mari had remained so silent. Perhaps, she figured, that cliché "an eye for an eye" was appropriate here, and Mari should offer up a bit of her own family background. She took a deep breath, and, with eyes still wide, said, "My dad was like that too. The opposite of course; he's a Muggle born. He didn't even know Mum came from a magical family until after I was born. I think I was five, maybe. But he didn't like it - Mum and he had a big fight, and he didn't live with us for a while. It was just Lucy, Mum, and me - the three partners in crime. Mum just told us they had a row, I didn't know. And then suddenly Dad was back and Grace was born and we were the happiest family once more. But then, I got my Hogwarts letter, and he...didn't really like me talking about going to Hogwarts. Or magic. So...I didn't. And, I dunno, I guess it's not the same. But kind of?" She looked at the girl with a bemused smile, as if she was proud of herself for connecting, though still quite apparently nervous. Her rambling, unconfident words made her nerves apparent, even if her facial expressions did not.

In panic from the vulnerability, and also due to the realization that she had never introduced herself, she added, "My name is Mari, also. Mari Haynes. But...I guess if you looked up Haynes you wouldn't come up with anything anyway. I don't think I have any relatives who are pureblood. Dad hates 'em, after all!" She giggled feebly; it was obviously forced.

The vulnerability had been too much; she was forced to silence once more and resumed looking at the ground as if there was something interesting there. Mari continued the act to such an extreme that she even feigned noticing that her shoe was untied and quickly loosened it so she could tie it tighter. When she stood up, she listened to the girl's words about being "burnt alive," internally acknowledged shock, and though she wanted to ask more, tried to shift her focus to the fact that her foot was tingling from how tight she had tied the shoe. There was so much to say and yet she was scared to inquire. Obviously this burning had been quite remarkable to the Gryffindor, but Mari was still too nervous to ask why. It seemed easier, less real, to ask questions about her abilities, her family, the greater wizarding world, but not something that happened at Hogwarts. Something that could happen to Mari, if she wasn't careful. Mental note: avoid Professor Galim. She won't save you. An important lesson, even if she wouldn't dare ask the details.

She toyed with her hair with her free hand and bounced her heels while the Gryffindor spoke, attempting to rid the growing tingling sensation in her foot. If only she hadn't done it in the first place. She wouldn't have felt this way in the first place, but she'd also be more excused to fix it. What struck her this moment was how, though she still felt the girl as cool, that coolness also had quite a heavy dose of sadness behind it. If Jane Rowle was the girl's mother, then she seemed to be a subpar mother. Preventing her daughter from showing her true self? Mari's family life may not have been ideal, but she could never complain that Ewan and Isa didn't embrace her for who she was. The only thing that was really asked of her was to try a bit harder in school, and that was a typical request from parents, anyway. "So..." Mari backtracked, puzzlement clear on her face. "Your mum is Jane Rowle. And you don't mean she has a literal bull, you mean that she has some...stuff going on. And she was crazy? Did you know?"

The questions led Mari into yet another reverie, as she wondered further when children came to such conclusions about their parents. She still had a rosy view of her parents, but would that change when she was older, like this girl? Perhaps her parents were insane just like she said this Jane Rowle was? It was a scary thought. She could not imagine her parents actually being insane, but if there was one thing she had learned, it was that the magical world was always full of surprises. Mari just hoped that, for once, magic would just slow down on the surprises and at least keep her family life normal.