* ⧽ [ BAHAR SAHIN , CISFEMALE , SHE/HER ] ┋ is that [ HESTIA JONES ] ? yeah , that must be ( her ) sitting at the ( gryffindor ) table . i read an ad populum article on them once , apparently the ( nineteen ) year old ( sixth ) year ( half-blood ) is known to be ( determined , loyal , & inventive ) , yet ( sarcastic , impulsive , & skeptical ) . that explains why ( she ) reminds me of ( loud laughter and even louder music; the taste of fire whiskey on your breath and smoke in your lungs; stolen jumpers pulled over your head, the scent of men’s cologne spreading over you; bubblegum and cigarettes - the perfect contradiction of yourself; racing faster and faster, higher and higher until your lungs are on fire; the last spark of the fireworks, lingering in your memory even as it fades away. ) .
𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐨 : amelia pond ( doctor who ) , faith lehane ( buffy the vampire slayer ) , louise belcher ( bob’s burgers ) .
tw. parental death , allusions to child neglect and abuse .
❛ today we gather to mourn the passing of helena jones , devoted wife and beloved mother . ❜
nine year old hestia jones stared at the gravestone , lips pursed and hands in fists at her sides . she’d loved her mother dearly , of course . she’d taught her many things - given her even more . but she’d also ruined a great many things for her .
helena had been pregnant before she’d married fergus jones - but he’d been so in love with her by then that he agreed to take the child in as his own . whether this was through the work of a love potion , or honest love - hestia was never sure ( but as she grew she heavily suspected the former ) . still , fergus never paid much attention to her aside from giving her his name and a few bruises here and there . with no siblings to keep her company , and fergus not allowing any who tried to befriend the girl past the threshold - the girl had often felt alone in the house .
magic was found distasteful in the house in the wake of helena’s death , fergus associating magic with all the things that went wrong in his life . all the little charms she’d placed around the house went unchanged , and over time they faded . but hestia’s magic would not fade so easily , rather it grew more powerful with each passing day . feats of accidental magic that mother that mother would have celebrated are met with fierce glares. as the time passed , fergus grew tired of hearing of it and signed the child up for therapy hoping to make her forget it all.
but it was not to be - and the harder fergus tried to make her forget , the more her magic spilled out - refusing to be forgotten . of course , he would not stop trying to make the girl forget and when her letter arrived - she was sent off to live with her mother’s sister .
of course , this decision would be his only act as a parent that held any worth . her aunt had grown up around magic , a witch herself , and encouraged hestia to use her magic freely . the abrupt change in views had the girl struggling , and by the time she’d arrived at platform 9 3/4 , she’d made the decision to run head first into the world of her birthright .
gryffindor house would bring the girl something to be proud of , and quidditch something to be excited for . she’d never flown , besides some bits of accidental magic as a child that had her on the roof - - - and the feeling of the wind racing through her hair was incomparable . with each year that past , she worked harder and harder , rising above the ranks of the team until she reached the top . once she had , she expected them to be the best - they would win above all overs and with each time she demanded celebration .
of course , even quidditch couldn’t distract her entirely . before hogwarts , she’d known bullies . she’d been the odd one out , there had been no wonders as to why she didn’t have any friends - but she’d never allowed herself to make them after too many failed attempts and too many foul reactions from her father . but these bullies were new , ones she couldn’t fight off with some snarky comments ( though boy did she try ) . she had changed herself , changed her hair and her clothes , but she couldn’t change her blood . and to them - that was all that mattered .
yeeeeet we’ve reached the end of this roller coaster ride and jumped the tracks.
but yeah hestia is a lot uh; she’s tired but won’t sleep, scottish, demands the best from herself and others ( at least in quidditch, kween does okay in classes so she won’t get on you for that but harps herself on it ), and probably aims to snog all of the gryffindors in her year at least ones.
gimme all them connections tho girl needs some peeps.
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* ⧽ [ 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐒 𝐃𝐎𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐘 , 𝐂𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐍 , 𝐇𝐄/𝐇𝐈𝐌/𝐇𝐈𝐒 ] ┋ is that [ 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐋𝐔𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 ] ? yeah , that must be ( him ) sitting at the ( ravenclaw ) table . i read an ad populum article on them once , apparently the ( eighteen ) year old ( fifth ) year ( pureblood ) is known to be ( intelligent , proud , & witty ) , yet ( sarcastic , quiet , & lonely ) . that explains why ( he ) reminds me of ( oversteeped tea, sharp remarks under your breath, dogearing your favorite pages in a text, crying over spilt milk, early mornings . )
𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐘
► Life in 12 Grimmauld Place was walking on eggshells, keeping quiet, and hiding in his bedroom hoping he could just not exist because it was so much easier than having to be a Black. Regulus had grown up number two, he was merely a backup son and had expected to live his entire life as nothing more than his older brother’s shadow. But he had always prefered it that way, staying quiet and hidden instead of dwelling the constant need to be perfect or the consequences of not living up to the Black family name. Regulus was lucky in the sense that being the second born had typically meant out of sight, out of mind for most of his childhood. He kept quiet and buried himself in countless books, escaping to a false reality that couldn’t punish you when you made the slightest mistake, even if only for a few hours at a time.
► Regulus had learned to read at a young age. Having been taught by private tutors and having such high expectations it was no surprise he mastered advanced vocabulary with ease but he had also quickly took a strong love to the hobby. He started off with children’s tales, stories such as The Tales of Beedle the Bard and other fairy tales, but nothing had ever held his interest as much as the works of non-fiction kept around his childhood home. They had kept a fairly expensive library, mostly because they could and it looked good to have, but Regulus spent hours picking apart words trying to heighten his reading level and understand the more complicated books around the house. Texts on history and magical creatures had scattered his bedroom, left any place in the house where Regulus could get a few hours alone and fostering a love for knowledge and need to read every book he could get his tiny hands on. The fascination with books had kept him isolated most of his childhood, and Regulus spent most of his free time before he had eventually gone off to Hogwarts curled up in random corners, completely hidden in his oversized robes and books larger than his small body.
► Regulus had been in the next room over when his parents discovered Sirius had not been placed into Slytherin like they all assumed, hidden behind a large book from the family library he had already read four times and was only half paying attention to as he listened to their yells from down the hall, his hands tightly clamped over his ears not enough to block out the noise. It was a moment that stuck with him the entire year: the screaming, spells flying, and the shattering sound of items breaking. It had stuck, always in the back of his mind, that day he realized even with how bad things were already just how sheltered from their wrath he really was, leaving an even greater sense of fear of his own home. That day replayed in his mind more frequently every day leading up to his first year and became non stop when he had gone to Hogwarts for the first time, sat in a lonely compartment on the Hogwarts Express, hidden behind a brand new copy of Hogwarts, A History.
► There was no doubt Regulus was going to Slytherin, he had refused to accept any other house could even be a possibility. He was going to do the right thing, get sorted into Slytherin and spend the next seven years going through the motions. Even with a set refusal to acknowledge another house, he had spent the day ensuring he avoided Sirius like the plague just to be safe, glancing as far from the Gryffindor table as possible when the hat finally hit his head. He had expected for the house to be called the second the hat touched his head, he had been repeating his mental pep talk in his mind the entire day, but instead it took it’s time, putting the young boy’s love of learning and quick wit heavily into consideration.Regulus was determined to do whatever it took, even if it meant arguing with a hat of all things. Before the houses names could even be suggested to him Regulus let out a firm no, completely unaware the word had been said aloud. Quietly, but still truly spoken, one single word. He had been frozen to the chair as the hat called out RAVENCLAW, desperately trying to control his breathing before making his way towards the table.
► Controlled by fear, Regulus was never the brave one. He had always been the first to run and hide under his bed sheets whenever confronted with any loud noise as a child, whether that be from a thunderstorm or fighting, or anything else. He did everything he could to keep away from it all, fighting so hard to be that person he is supposed to be because he was too afraid to deal with the consequences of being anyone else. He grew up with quick wit and a sharp tongue, but rarely spoke out on anything, never certain in his comments would be appreciated. It was part of the reason he loved books so much, they were a place to hide as much as a place to learn or escape. For the time being he could get lost in someone else’s opinion, or with hard facts, nothing that could set off anyone around him.
► Bad Habbits: Regulus slouches; over the years he’s learned to stand tall when around others, needing to put on a show but most of his life he spends with his shoulders hunched, head looking down to the floor. He rolls his eyes. He is compeltely unable to help it, not even noticing most of the time, and it’s gotten him in trouble more than he cares to admit. But he really can’t help it when people are that stupid. Regulus hadn’t expected to pick up smoking, he couldn’t even tell you why he started but it’s become a habit he can’t seem to stop. He’s always been an introvert, but he’s especially grumpy and to himself until he gets that first hit of nicotine and he isn’t fully willing to admit just how much he needs a hit when it all becomes too much for him.
► After Sirius left, Regulus had been forced to watch as his mother blasted Sirius off the family tree, making sure it really sunk in and that Regulus no longer had a brother. The punishment for looking away was worse than anything he had ever endured before. Sirius had always made sure he never had to deal with the brunt of their mother’s wrath. But she was on a mission to ensure Regulus knew consequences would only be worse if he were to follow in Sirius’s footsteps. Still, it made no sense to him, could disownment really work? Negate all these years of brotherhood? Family was supposed to be forever. You didn’t choose your family, you simply stuck by them.
* ⧽ [ 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐒, 𝐂𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄, 𝐒𝐇𝐄/𝐇𝐄𝐑 ] ┋ is that [ 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐀 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 ] ? yeah, that must be ( her ) sitting at the ( slytherin ) table. i read an ad populum article on them once, apparently the ( nineteen ) year old ( sixth ) year ( pureblood ) is known to be ( inquisitive, self-reliant, & analytical ), yet ( cynical, introspective, & tactless ). that explains why ( she ) reminds me of ( rain on dark windowpanes, too-long sleeves hiding ink-stained fingertips, dark curls escaping from pins, starched white shirts under wool coats, the greyish purple light of dawn, burnt out matches from a guilty cigarette, and looking your mother in the eyes when you lie. )
from the very beginning, you are a disappointment. your mother calls you a difficult child with a mixture of disdain and relief, and maybe it’s true. druella was not a woman who ever suited motherhood. and in some ways, a child who doesn’t suit daughterhood is a relief. every time you squirm away at her touch, or refuse to look her in the eye, the resentment comes a little easier. this push and pull is your relationship, bound by blood. mother and daughter, neither quite fitting into your roles. but then again, neither of you wanted these roles in the first place.
you grow up accustomed to being just out of step with the rest of the world, though it doesn’t get easier. you’re not trying to defy your mother, but every day, there’s a new complaint, a new act of rebellion in druella’s eyes, whether it’s a childish question asked in the wrong place at the wrong time, or getting so absorbed in a book you forget to come down for dinner, or a bit of wandless magic born from a moment of frustration. a lock of hair tumbling free from its pin, a corset come unlaced, posture ruined from hunching over a book. your wrists are too bony, your lips are too thin, your skin too easily flushed. every day is a trial against you, with your parents acting as the judge, jury and executioner, and over and over again you are found guilty.
does it come as a surprise you learn to live in the shadows ? social interaction is a minefield in your house, a murky maze you haven’t managed to learn to navigate without making the wrong step and getting a disapproving glare or a sharp rebuke or worse for your efforts. so you avoid it altogether. you’re a voracious reader, and the characters from your books keep you company. they, not your mother, teach you the subtleties and intricacies of human interaction. you spend your days on the manor roof, tucked in a woollen blanket to shield against the wind, fingers growing black with ink as the sun sinks in the sky.
you get older, get your first growth spurt, fill out your bony frame a little, and people start making comments about how much you look like your mother. and one day, you look in the mirror and see her staring back at you. and you realize just how young she was when she married, and how young she was when she became a mother. the next time druella yanks a brush through your untamed hair in a vicious attempt to get it to lie flat, you think you understand just a little bit more.
but understanding doesn’t fix the rift between you two. it doesn’t bring you out of the shadows, or feed you the nights you are denied dinner for your misbehaviour. it doesn’t give you a voice the days you go unable to speak thanks to a punitive silencio, and it doesn’t grant your wish to have a real mother who loves you. who wanted you.
at least you have your sisters, bella and cissy, elder and younger, bookending you. their stars shine brighter than yours; bella, expected to be the role model, cissy, eager to impress. that leaves you to fade into the background, which suits you fine. they’re the ones your mother shows off at various pureblood functions. you stand off to the side in uncomfortably starched dresses, disappearing like smoke any time someone looked like they were heading over to strike up conversation. you explore the pureblood manors, all silent footsteps & watchful eyes, making observations on how the wizarding world’s elite lived their lives, noting separate beds in the master bedrooms & half-empty whiskey bottles in the washrooms. it seems to you that everyone is only looking out for themselves in this world, trying to further their own social status and wealth.
is it strange that such a cynical girl could have such a yearning for beautiful things ? or would that merely be a side effect of cynicism, to long for something to thaw a hardened heart ? you love beautiful things, perhaps a bit too much, but you don’t trust them. nothing beautiful was made to last, and if it was, it wasn’t truly beautiful. sunsets fade to darkness, books end, lovers grow apart. the inherent transience of beauty makes you crave it all the more.
you turn fourteen and you receive the most important letter of your life. hogwarts overwhelms you, transfixes you. there are so many people, more people than you’ve ever seen before. hundreds and hundreds of students fill the castle, each with their own thoughts and lives and desires. voices overlap, faces flash by, shoulders bump into yours. that first night you manage to slip away, heart racing. you catch your breath on the astronomy tower, drunk on the beauty of an untamed scottish night, legs dangling over the fifty-foot drop. you find your constellation in the night sky, andromeda, and you wonder if your fate is written in the stars too.
slowly, you learn to navigate the swells of students who fill the castle. social interaction is still a mystery to you, so you don’t interact, merely observe. you make best friends with the library and the moving staircase, and if it ever gets too much for you, there’s always the astronomy tower, where the stars wait for you.
in your fifth year, you’re chosen to be a slytherin prefect. it comes as a surprise to you; your social circle is small and close-knit, and while you get good grades, you’re a quiet student. at first, you don’t think you’ll like it, but you grow to enjoy the position. not for the power it gives you over your fellow students, but for the escape it brings. you can associate with people you would normally never talk to, and roam the castle freely past curfew. and although you aren’t a naturally nurturing person, you find that you enjoy talking to and helping the younger years. you see their wonder at hogwarts in their eyes, the same wonder that you felt, and you’ve grown quite protective over a few of them.
you find it hard to trust people. you’re so used to a world shaped by selfishness that you rarely meet someone you don’t suspect of having ulterior motives. after all, beautiful people, like beautiful things, are temporary. everyone turns ugly sooner or later; everyone’s claws are eventually revealed.
those who don’t know you might say that you’re aloof, proud, detached, all flint eyes & sharp edges. although you’ve grown more fluent in social intricacies, you still largely keep to yourself and your small group of friends. and like it or not, you’re a black, and the unmistakeable air of wealth that you carry with you means that introversion comes off as standoffishness. you know people think you’re weird. you're an observer, a people-watcher, and not everyone takes kindly to being watched.
but those who do know you, those precious few, know your quiet, dry humour, your independent streak. they know to be patient with you, to give you the alone time you need, to forgive your taste for the finer things in life. they know your intelligence and your love of learning, and they know the fire that’s been burning quietly inside you for so long.
* ⧽ [ 𝐒𝐀𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐂𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄, 𝐒𝐇𝐄/𝐇𝐄𝐑 ] ┋ is that [ 𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐀 𝐉𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐒 ] ? yeah, that must be ( her ) sitting at the ( hufflepuff ) table. i read an ad populum article on them once, apparently the ( eighteen ) year old ( fifth ) year ( half-blood ) is known to be ( honest, resilient & staunch ), yet ( blunt, meddlesome, & impulsive ). that explains why ( she ) reminds me of ( doodles filling the margins of a borrowed library book, spiked hot chocolate, elbows knocking together at a crowded dining table, the smell of burnt cookies, a well-worn torrid romance novel tucked underneath the mattress, tracking mud through the house in clunky combat boots, sharing a joint behind the greenhouse among dandelions and thistle growing wild, holding onto a hug just a moment too long. )
born in boston, massachusetts, as the third youngest of six children. and yes, this means she has a boston accent
bertha has a younger brother ( 13 ), a younger sister ( 17 ), an older sister ( 24 ), and two older brothers ( 25 & 28 )
her parents were both americans who met at ilvermorny and settled down not far away. got married young, had kids young
in the jorkins household, there’s a lot of love to go around, and even more arguing. mr. and mrs. jorkins were already one of those couples that seemed to always be bickering over something inconsequential, and all six of their children inherited that trait
so bertie is LOUD and she is STUBBORN
in a family of eight all living in one house, you sort of get used to not having any privacy. bertie’s a very open person, maybe a bit too much ? better get used to her oversharing. plus she is nosey as all hell !
they also have a lot of extended family on either side, muggle and magical, so thanksgiving & christmas dinners were hectic and loud and everyone got drunk and at least one person always ended up in tears or with a black eye. but at least the food was good !
when bertie was 16, her younger sister got sick. like, really sick. the family moved to england to be close to st. mungo’s, which had specialized healers who could treat her.
this caused a lot of stress for the family, understandably. and bertha, who’d always been the closest with her sister because of their close ages, took it upon herself to be the light in the darkness. she clung to joy where she could find it and she worked tirelessly to make her family laugh with her goofy antics
so bertie transferred to hogwarts in third year. she was loud and the class clown and she made friends quickly with her easy-going, goofy attitude. though i’m sure she made a nuisance of herself at the same time
she doesn’t believe in this blood purity thing but she also doesn’t like getting too serious so she doesn’t spend much time thinking about it
often is impulsive and says or does things without thinking them through which does tend to get her into trouble. she’s SO loyal though and SO loving. she’ll remember every little detail about you, and if you’re feeling down she’ll do her damned best to cheer you up
her sister is doing slightly better now. she’s not on death’s door, but she’s still very weak and too ill to go to hogwarts. bertie writes home every chance she gets
random stuff
usually goes by bertie, bert, berts, etc
blind as a bat, has THICK glasses but every so often she gets tired of wearing glasses and leaves them in her room and then immediately remembers why she doesn’t do that
she doesn’t do great in school cause she has trouble paying attention BUT she aced divination because she showed up high every time and just really vibed with the prof
constantly doodling and always does these dumb little caricatures. takes commissions if anyone’s willing to pay
she’s one of the quidditch commentators and i would love if someone brought her commentating partner
has a library of erotic romance novels that she started with a friend ( wc !!! ) and lends them out to other students for a small membership fee
i need to tell you again that she has a boston accent
every week she has a crush on someone different
some fun loose connection ideas:
best friend who’s quieter who she can drag into trouble, best friend who’s also loud and they egg each other on, frenemy, friends with benefits, awkward exes, one-sided crush, just straight up enemies, ex-friends, someone who tutors her, etc etc
* ⧽ [ 𝐒𝐘𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐘 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐘 , 𝐂𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 , 𝐒𝐇𝐄/𝐇𝐄𝐑 ] ┋ is that [ 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ] ? yeah , that must be ( her ) sitting at the ( hufflepuff ) table . i read an ad populum article on them once , apparently the ( eighteen ) year old ( fifth ) year ( muggleborn ) is known to be ( optimistic , warmhearted , & innovative ) , yet ( gullible , easily-flustered , & sensitive ) . that explains why ( she ) reminds me of ( a windy and open grassy knoll, twinkle in your eye, airy dresses, hitchcock blonde hair, a bag of sewing needles and yarn . )
Though Greta had been born in Manchester, her parents were divorced before her third birthday, and by her fifth, her mother was jumping at a job opportunity in the States. By now her father had already remarried and her parents decided Greta going with her mother was the best decision. From there on out Greta lived with her mother in a one bedroom apartment in Los Angeles, California. When the bar-lights her mother had bought to decorate their place began flickering whenever Greta was in their presence, you could have expected the nasty shock to come from figuring out she was a witch. At fourteen, she entered school at Ilvermorny as a Pukwudgie.
Greta’s mother had a new boyfriend almost bi-monthly, but when one finally stuck, she soon saw the best being brought out of her mother. It’s as though all of the pieces of the puzzle had fallen simultaneously, suddenly, and satisfyingly into place. Her mother and boyfriend could jet off and travel the world like they’d been planning. She adored the idea of her mother being swept off her feet like she’d always deserved, but that left her with a question – what now? Not living near her mother so soon hadn’t been a thought in Greta’s mind, and there was no possibility of asking her mother to stay behind. She traveled back to her home country, now to London where her father lived with his wife and younger daughter to stay with them. They’d visited each other here and there over the years, but Greta couldn’t remember a time where she lived with her father for longer than three months. It was new, watching him balance Greta and his new family, which she knew was silly to refer to them as, but she couldn’t help it. She is looking forward to her transfer to Hogwarts from Ilvermorny, now in her fifth year of school. It gave her some time away from her new family, it gave her time to sort things for herself and become an individual in this country. She’s looking forward to being sorted.
They’d never been close, Greta and her father, but his job was something she’d always admired with a full heart, wide eyes, and lots of curious questions. Mr. Catchlove owned a toy shop in Muggle London called Catch the Wonder, granting wishes of young children all throughout the city. She’d worked there a couple of summers, watching in amazement and even feeling inspired to do something herself. Of course if there was anything she and dad would connect on, it was the child-like spark that still burned bright in both of their adult lives. Soon she began turning the drawings of children into stuffed toys, bringing all of their creations to life. It’s been a work of trial and error, but she hopes to start up her own business while attending Hogwarts. It will definitely keep her busy between lessons.
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* ⧽ [ LORENZO ZURZOLO , CIS MAN , HE/HIM ] ┋ is that [ LUCIUS MALFOY ] ? yeah , that must be ( him ) sitting at the ( slytherin ) table . i read an ad populum article on them once , apparently the ( twenty ) year old ( seventh ) year ( pureblood ) is known to be ( determined , dutiful , & insightful ) , yet ( arrogant , blunt , & guarded ) . that explains why ( he ) reminds me of ( the weight of the malfoy family crest on his signet ring, true emotions bitten back and concealed beneath a bored veneer, muggle cigarettes stolen and smoked in secret, steaming cups of jasmine tea, gossamer-spun webs of lies to protect a soft heart, cold hands adorned with silver rings, wilted flowers ) .
STATS .
full name: lucius malfoy
known sobriquets: luc, luca - only by especially close friends
identifying marks & scars: a curved and faded scar behind his right ear
ABOUT .
there are some people who will talk disparagingly about those who had been ‘born with a silver spoon in their mouths’, and then there are others who sneer at the thought of dining from anything other than pure silver. the silver spoon, lucius had always known, was a poor man’s metaphor. however, the malfoys dined from gleaming sets of charmed silver plates and dining instruments that sparkled like starlight and made the type of silver people usually thought of look about as precious as tin. it was a mark of the family, being a beacon of shining light amidst the sacred twenty eight. a malfoy always sparkled, gleamed, and glowed with visible luxury and privilege. before the old ways bowed to the new, they were kings and queens. now, they were ministry officials and heads of department and had a weighty investment in every security measure used throughout magical london.
the malfoy name had always and would always be synonymous with power. the family was about as ancient as they come and rivaled only by the likes of the most ancient and noble house of black - it had never been a secret that lucius and a handful of his peers were the cream of the crop, assuredly pure and pristine. the importance of magical politics, of purity and protection had been drilled into his malleable mind from as early as the age of four. to be a malfoy was to be born into a legacy that demanded careful cultivation. when he walked through the forbidding portrait-lined corridors of the manor he grew up in he could almost feel the weight of history settling around his shoulders, could hear the shouts and cries of the practitioners who’d burned so that the fortunate few could survive.
lucius had been primed from a young age to understand such things, and as a side effect from living in an insulated echo-chamber, it made sense to him, the roots of the ideology he’d been coaxed to swallow down: muggles had the means and the desire to destroy magic. as long as muggles were allowed to infiltrate wixen society, wixen were in danger. what didn’t exactly make sense to him was the way the dynamic had twisted and shifted into that of a mere matter of violence and vengeance. while he would sooner insult a hippogryff than eagerly fraternize with a muggle or muggleborn, lucius secretly, privately, found it hard to justify the idea of violence against muggleborns or their magicless counterparts – they were not their ancestors, and innocents did not deserve to burn for crimes they hadn’t ever committed.
he could never, would never breathe a word of that aloud. he couldn’t –– even if his father, abraxas, wasn’t a vocal blood purist with fanatic views on revenge that bordered on biblical, all of his friends –– all of the friends his family had carefuly chosen for him –– were more or less cut from the same cloth. to speak a single thought that hadn’t already been chosen for him and pressed free of wrinkle or error was to assure a fate worse than a dementor’s kiss.
and besides, once he was old enough to form his own opinions, he was also old enough to understand that silver starlight must be paid for –– either in coin or in blood.
and lucius liked his silver.
PERSONALITY .
lucius is quiet –– not out of introversion, as he can usually be seen surrounded by his fellow pureblood students, but out of choice. he’s learned over the years to hide any true emotional responses with a mask of deference or indifference, depending on the situation. often it’s indifference that he manages to make look haughty, boredom that feels like an insult even though he would never let so much as a tainted word leave his lips. each word he chooses to speak out loud is one that he’s already chosen carefully and inspected thoroughly before sending it out into the world. he’s very particular about what he does and does not say.
he plays the part of the spoiled, haughty, slytherin prince perfectly - partially because he enjoys it, but partially also because he knows that being a malfoy requires a certain level of public performance that is both expected and required of him.
underneath that public persona he’s softer, but only a few people have ever seen this side of him. if anyone claims he’s even slightly sensitive or gentle he’ll categorically deny it and hex whoever started that filthy rumor into next week.
because he spends so much of his time biting back true emotions he really doesn’t know how to be vulnerable or how to cope with real feelings. the idea of opening up and being close enough to another person to ask them to love him and hope that they love him back is terrifying, no thank you. how is he supposed to trust anyone like that? he’s resigned himself to the idea of an arranged, loveless, cold marriage. that’s safer. he also doesn’t really know what to do with anger, sadness, jealousy, etc. which is a little... toxic but through sneaking muggle cigarettes, dueling club, drinking copious amounts of jasmine tea, sneaking down to the greenhouses at night to garden even though he has the opposite of a green thumb and nothing he ever tries works, and other ~activities he’s slowly learned how and when to let off just enough steam that he doesn’t shatter like glass.
POSSIBLE CONNECTIONS .
snake gang buddies –– the type of people his parents would expect him to be friends with, namely, pureblood slytherins or purebloods of any kind
dueling club people –– lucius loves dueling!! he’s a stickler for the rules and regulations and he’s honestly quite talented at slinging hexes and jinxes
secret friend/fling/etc. –– some kind of relationship, whether friendship or something more, between lucius and someone he really couldn’t ever be seen talking to in public. most likely a halfblood or a muggleborn
true friend –– the only person he feels like he can be himself around, the only person he can trust with his true thoughts and feelings, the first few tendrils of doubt in pureblood supremacy, his softer side, etc.
someone he lightly bullies in public for being muggleborn/halfblood ; this can either stay an antagonistic connection or... potentially..... turn into something.. spicier 👀
❝ I envy people that know love. That have someone who takes them as they are . ❞
𝑐𝘩𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟⧸𝑓𝑖𝑙𝑒 : bellatrix black ▸ pure-blood ▸ danielle rose russell .
❛❛ aesthetic . ❜❜ ― ◜ ❏ . ― dimly lit rooms and smashed mirrors, how like a goddess she smiles : beautiful & sweet & ready to rip out your heart, gothic architecture, black roses with blood laced thorns . ―
🇦🇵🇵🇱🇮🇨🇦🇹🇮🇴🇳 ▸
* ⧽ [ 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐋 , 𝐅𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 , 𝐒𝐇𝐄/𝐇𝐄𝐑 ] ┋ is that [ 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐗 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 ] ? yeah , that must be her sitting at the slytherin table . i read an ad populum article on them once , apparently the twenty year old seventh year pureblood is known to be loyal , fierce , & intelligent , yet impulsive , sadistic , & arrogant .
🇮🇳🇹🇪🇷🇮🇴🇷 ▸
fears: being branded a blood-traitor .
likes: her sisters , the fall , dark arts , voldemort .
dislikes: muggles , anyone who are blood-traitor .
deadly sin : greed & pride .
Pet(s): barn owl named nyra
🇫🇦🇻🇴🇷🇮🇹🇪🇸 ▸
Book : anything to do with the dark arts .
Movie : n/a .
Food : spicy food .
Flower : roses .
Season : the fall .
Anima l: snakes , her owl .
🇧🇮🇴 ▸
PART I :
Growing up with two sisters isn’t easy, as Bellatrix can tell you. Yet she knew if anything were to happen to them, Bella wouldn’t hesitate in murdering for them. Raised by parents who’s avid pureblood supremacist views were the center point of tradition, giving her a rich lifestyle and raised her to be proud of her pure-blood heritage, Bellatrix knew the house of black was committed into maintaining the purity of their blood. An ideology embedded into her as it was her sisters since birth.
There were no ifs or buts, as their father constantly shouted at her sisters and her that she would be considered a traitor to all magical people if she did not contribute to maintaining a pureblood society. Expected to lead by example, Bella knew she would marry into a pureblooded wizarding family or face being stricken from the family tree and disowned by her parents. the kind little girl she once was as a child was killed off by the time she was 6 . the smile she once had became non-existence . the lies she would repeat in her head that she was happy were false faced . hoping that if she told herself enough, it would be true .
Showing magical abilities extremely early, making her parents glow with pride for their eldest daughter. By the time she was ten, she was stealing her parent’s wands and cursing the house elves. It was great fun to her. She just hoped she could lead her sisters onto the right path, and maybe, she’d be saved from an arranged marriage.
PART II :
Going to Hogwarts, getting sorted to the Slytherin house, was no surprise when it concerned the blacks. Yet what did surprise her was learning of her cousin being sorted into Gryffindor. At Hogwarts Bella had a bit more freedom away from her parents. Freedom to finally think for herself and look at the things that she truly wanted. Yet knew she had to follow the path they wanted her to take. Being the eldest, she had a responsibility. Out of the obligation of fulfilling her family’s pro-pure-blood mentality and tradition, an arrangement her father set up since the moment she was young was in place .
Her willingness to act on her own accord was what she loved doing more than anything. Seeing the school sort of as a temporary liberation from the shackles her family put her in since birth. Yet she couldn’t truly escape it. Realizing that, It wasn’t long after, she began garnering a reputation for her frightful and sadistic behavior. Bella’s soft sides that somewhat remained as she grew up, which could be mostly seen whenever she was with her sisters, were no longer visible.
PART III
Still deep down, the small little girl that knew kindness once was hiding deep down . hiding from her parents cruelty and the fear of being discarded . to everyone, Bellatrix is a black-hearted, sadistic, cruel, monster. Yet in her mind, bella is just following the misguided path she was set upon by her parents. In her eyes, bella is just fighting for the society she was supposed to be born into. A pureblooded one. Just as her parents wanted.
