Physical Description: Astrien is a pretty young girl in that very traditional, almost aristocratic way. She has thick, waist long black hair that falls neatly down her back, kept almost obsessively well brushed and parted with precision. Her complexion is pale, and between that and black hair, her vivid green eyes seem to almost shine, bright against her otherwise pale complexion. She has delicate features, just like her mother, with a slightly upturned nose, soft jawline, and thick dark brown. She is just slightly below the average height for her age, standing at 4"5', with a slight, wiry build that makes her seem smaller than she actually is, but she walks with her chin held so high that it almost makes up for it. Her posture is always impeccable, and she moves with a kind of controlled precision that makes it seem like she's always being watched. Her clothes are always immaculately pressed and perfectly put together, and her scents always meticulously paired.

Mental Description: Astrien is sharp and observant, painfully aware of social hierarchies. She is intelligent, particularly in subjects that reward memorization and structure. She also has an admiration for rules, although not because she respects or follows them, but because she finds great joy in working her way around them with every possible loophole. She is, as her parents would say, "difficult". Petty, quick tongued, stubborn, with an innate talent for getting under others skin with cutting remarks uttered without a single hint of emotion in her tone. Behind all of that bravado, however, is a deeply lonely little girl. A child used to feeling overlooked and underestimated, what with her five eldest brothers and being not only the only girl in her family, but also the youngest, she has grown too intimate with the need to prove herself constantly. She compensates by doing everything in her power to remain independent, often refusing help despite needing it. She feels deeply uncomfortable showing vulnerability and will often deflect with sarcasm or condescension. She is not cruel with no reason, she simply struggles to connect or allow people in.

Biography: Astrien was born into an old, traditional pureblood family, vehement in maintaining and emphasizing their lineage and legacy. Her being the youngest child of 6 and the only daughter of the bunch, her arrival wasn't met with much fanfare. Her brothers, much older than her already, paid her little mind. They were busy with their own achievements and lives. She was just there, at home, alone more often than not. Her parents, while not unkind or neglectful in any way that mattered, were distant and formal, much more invested in keeping up appearances than fostering any semblance of an emotional bond. She grew up in a large, well kept ancestral home just outside of Dublin, all cold stone walls and echoing silence. Tutors provided her early education, ensuring she was well read and well mannered, of course, the spitting image any daughter of House Friedwald should be. She learned quite quickly, however, that attention had to be taken. Her wit came from that precise realization, usinng it to carved out her own space at home, to force them to look at her in any way. Still, she grew to resent her at-home life. Privately, and only privately, she looked forward to Hogwarts. Not just as a place of learning exciting new things, but as a place that she can be, maybe, finally truly noticed.

First Instance of Magic: She was seven, just shy of eight, in her family home, during a formal family dinner, with all her brothers and both her parents. Astrien had been seated at the far end of the table, where she couldn't be heard, where talking over her would be easier. Not that she didn't try to speak up, because she did, twice, but no one had really acknowledged it. Eventually, she just stopped trying, and resorted to just glaring at the dessert dish just out of reach. Maybe if she stared hard enough one of the servants would notice, or one of her brothers would see, or the of her parents would offer, or someone would something, for once. She remembered feeling oddly tight, like everything in her chest just had nowhere to go. It was this all too familiar oppressive feeling, something akin to anger and resentment and pure frustration, the kind that clawed up her throat. And then the plate moved, all at once snapping in her direction, lifting off the table and inch or so, knocking down her brothers glass in the way. No one had really said anything, really. Her mother just fixed up the mess with a quick spell, her father had shot her a small, almost impatient smile, one of her brothers made some kind of comment along the lines of 'huh, would you look at that.'. And that was that.