Miren Hawthorn | Second Year | Slytherin

WIP
BG Story
Miren was born on 2 March 2014 in Bexley, England to her mother, who was an Auror, and father – a muggle working as a high school teacher.
She always had a great relationship with her mother, a kind and understanding witch. Her father not so much due to his anger issues and egocentric thinking. That often resulted in arguments between them. The unstable environment (being able to act freely with her mother but having to watch her every step and word around her father) contributed to her fragile sense of identity and trying to prove her worth to herself and others.
Miren has always been a troublemaker and often got into problems at the Muggle school she attended, whether it was with the teachers or her classmates. She was never exactly popular among her peers and didn’t have many friends in her early childhood. Despite that, she didn’t really have any problems in her academic life when it came to grades – something she actually cared about, unlike socializing and appealing to others.
At the age of nine, her mother died on the job, killed by a Dark wizard she had been on the track of. That's when Miren's father started heavily drinking and blaming anything and everything that had to do with magic – Miren included. Without her mother, there wasn’t anything that really tied the two of them together anymore. Still disgusted by her magic, he distanced himself from her completely and Miren was taken in by her aunt Ava, her mother’s sister, who has been taking care of her ever since and whom she has mostly a good relationship with. The only stumbling block between the two is Miren's aspiration to become an Auror like her mother, which is something Ava doesn't approve of and discourages her from out of fear of losing her, too.

FIOM
It was slowly getting dark and the street lamps along with day’s last rays of sunshine were casting an orange hue through the windows. Miren was in the small living room, sitting on the brown carpet in front of a fireplace and sketching various beasts she’d seen in her mother’s books. There were already numerous white sheets of paper with her drawings all over the carpet.
She could hear her parents arguing in the kitchen but that didn’t stop her from turning a page of the thick book she’d been using as a reference for her drawings. As unfortunate as it was, arguments weren’t anything unusual in their household and this one was no different from those she had already heard. Always the same. It started because of a minor inconvenience and led to her father‘s hateful and accusatory rants towards her mother about the wizarding world.
Miren never understood his hatred. Unlike him, she always found all the magic fascinating and watched in awe whenever her mother or aunt showed her anything connected to it.
She’d drawn multiple other creatures by the time her father stepped into the living room and his eyes fell onto the floor, covered in Miren’s sketches of magical beasts. The little girl was too oblivious at that time, or perhaps just blinded by the joy of a particularly good drawing of a niffler she’d made, to notice how something shifted in the man’s eyes.
„Look!“ She got up, holding the picture in front of him with a proud smile. But, instead of the praise she expected, her father tore the paper from her hand and looked at it with nothing but disgust in his eyes.
„I don’t know what your mother teaches you behind my back but you will stop with this devilry at once!“ He spat out before picking up the rest of the drawings from the floor, crumpling them all up and throwing them into the fire.
„Dad, no!“ She got out with tears already dwelling in her eyes as she watched all her work burn. She knelt down, taking the book and pressing it tightly against her chest. Even that didn’t stop the angry man once he realized what kind of book it was. Without hesitation, he tore it out from her grip with ease and threw it into the flames as well.
For a moment, Miren just stared at the flames licking the newly added fuel in disbelief. But the second her mind grasped what had just happened, she stood up, yelling from the top of her lungs: „I hate you!“ As her voice cut through the silence, all the windows and glass in the room shattered to pieces. It was enough to catch her father off guard and fill his angry eyes with uncertainty. For the first time she didn’t feel like a powerless kid in her father’s presence and at that moment she just knew. She wanted to keep it that way. To feel all the power and never let him, or anyone else for that matter, tell her, who she was.