Physical Description:

While she doesn't stand out in a crowd with her grey-blue eyes, brown hair, and light complexion, Claire Lewis puts a great amount of effort into her appearance. From her morning skin care routine which vexes her father so, to her careful brushing of her hair in the morning and night, Claire is only rarely afflicted with accursed bedhead and disheveled clothes.

She stands up to her dad's shoulders, which is on the shorter side of average for her age group. Her clothes, while certainly not on the fancy side of attire, are always presented quite well. Despite her single father's seeming inability to iron a shirt, Claire has become quite good at it. Her clothes are wrinkle free, without a stitch out of place.

Mental Description:

Claire doesn't quite understand femininity. Growing up without a mother, she never had a parent to teach her some of the basics of what it means to be a girl in the world. Her dad, bless him, tried to help her build an interest in makeup and other 'girly' activities when she was younger, but he was, unsurprisingly, worse with makeup than she was, despite her age at the time.

There are times, as a result of her lack of a mother, when Claire is overzealous in her desire to be the 'woman of the house.' She hasn't quite learned that gender roles aren't actually all that important. She just knows that her friends' mums take care of certain aspects of the house, and she assumes that it's her job in lieu of a mother figure in her house. She spends a lot of her time cleaning around the house when her dad is at work, and, though she is far to young to be a proper cook, she has been known to throw together a meal just before her dad comes home.

Her dad insists that just because she's a girl, it doesn't mean such tasks should be hers, but she insists that she likes helping her dad around the house. In truth, it's her way of dealing with not having a mother, but even she doesn't quite realize that she's assigning herself value by being like the mother she never had.

Beyond that, Claire is a very reserved girl. She doesn't speak out very much, certainly not without carefully considering her words. She isn't cripplingly quiet by any means, but she tries not to speak without thinking.

She's held the same muggle friends for most of her childhood and, despite her slightly-outdated views on 'what it means to be a girl,' she does have normal child-like hobbies that she shares with her friends. They gossip, like the other girls at school. They play video games on the console her dad bought her for Christmas a few years ago. They run outside when they hear 'Greensleeves' on the ice cream van driving by.

Biography:

Claire grew up in a single-parent household. Her dad, Russell, never told her why her mother left them. How could he explain that her mother had left them out of regret after having a child with a muggle like him? He couldn't explain it. He barely even knew what the word 'muggle' meant. It was one of the only details he retained when Claire's mother had told him stories of her life as a 'witch.' Claire didn't know her mother was a witch until she received her Hogwarts acceptance letter.

Regardless of her reason, Claire never had a proper mother. She had a paternal aunt that she saw quite regularly, but not enough to fill that void left by an absent mother. She took to cleaning the house, preparing dinner as best she could, and doing all of the things her dad slacked on because he was tired from working all day. He tried arguing against her doing that, telling her that her value is beyond cooking and cleaning, but she insisted that she just liked to be helpful to her dad.

Russell did everything he could to make up for that fact that she had no present mum. He showered Claire with enough love for two parents. He bought her gifts, let her cry on his shoulder, and never, not once, did he make her feel bad for being a girl. When the others in the neighbourhood had small tea parties and other gatherings intended for mother-daughter pairs, Russell often attended with his daughter, holding her hand and putting up with the gossip of the mothers at the event long enough for Clair to feel she belonged.

Claire met her best friends in school when she was seven. Rose, ever the shy one, had moved to London proper from Sussex and struggled with making friends until, one day, Claire saw that Rose looked lonely and offered her pudding up to the girl to cheer her up. They were inseparable ever since.

Hana was the next to join their little friend group. Emigrating to the UK from South Korea of all places, she felt immediately out of place. None of the other children seemed to care much about interacting with her beyond basic politeness and niceties. A nine-year-old Claire took the initiative and invited Hana to spend time with herself and Rose.

First Instance of Magic:

As with most accidents, magical or otherwise, Claire's first instance of accidental magic came when she was breaking her dad's rules. She was eight, at the time, and he had reluctantly agreed to let her stay home alone for the few hours between school ending and his own return from work, provided she checked in with the neighbour.

There were a number of ground rules. Conditions for Claire's solitude during her time alone at home. But one of the most important was that she couldn't use any hair-dryers or any kitchen appliances. The last thing Russell wanted was to lose his daughter in a fire, naturally.

That didn't stop Claire. She thought that she'd cook lasagna for her dad and have it ready when he returned home. It was pre-made, simple lasagna that only had to be thrown in the oven, but it was still a big step for an eight-year-old.

Unfortunately, being eight, Claire completely forgot about the food she'd put in the oven well over an hour ago. It wasn't until she smelled a burnt, charcoal-like scent wafting through the house that she remembered. In a panic, she ran to the kitchen, grabbed an oven mitt from the counter and opened the oven, releasing a puff of black smoke into the kitchen. A fire alarm began shrieking, and her tears began falling as she waved away the smoke, expecting a burnt husk of lasagna.

Oh, boy, was she in for it. She'd broken her dad's rule, thinking she could prove her capabilities and maturity, and all she'd have to show for it was a chunk of charred food that might resemble lasagna and a ruined pan.

However, miraculously, as the smoke cleared from the kitchen, Claire was surprised to see that the lasagna was perfectly fine. It wasn't overcooked at all, despite her having forgotten about it for far too long.

The neighbour ran in moments later, responding to the fire alarm, but she only found Claire standing near the counter, lasagna ready minutes before her dad was meant to come home.

Claire had had no idea at the time that the secret ingredient to saving that dinner had been magic.