A Study in Red PV Rhea Bishop Finished

She didn't particularly know how she found herself in the library, but now that she was, Rhea decided to read up on some of her history. Her parents had always been on her back about it: Read more about pureblood history, Rhea and If you are a proper Bishop you would be well-educated about the ways of pure bloods. Of course, Rhea knew the bare minimum that there was to know - but that was never enough for her parents. They always wanted more. 

And to be frank, these things interested Rhea. Not to the extent that it consumed her life, like her parents', but just enough. 

She had just completed a thin book on some basic history and had decided to grab the continuation. One that, hopefully, would mention the Bishops somewhere so Rhea could feel slightly more interested. As she found the book she was looking for and turned back to go to her couch, she bumped into someone and caused her book to drop onto her toe. She yelped and grasped her toe, jumping up and down in place. When she calmed down and the pain faded away, she looked up at her attacker. Eyes narrowed, she was about to insult the poor unsuspecting boy when he started to talk.

"You're the one who's so good at flying," he started, and Rhea straightened up with an impressed look on her face. That was one way to make her forget about the walking-into, book-dropping incident. The boy looked as if he was about to continue but stopped himself. "I usually have better manners than this; I'm just impressed from what I've heard. Let me start over. Hi, I'm Max. I'm sorry for bumping into you, I should've been paying more attention."

Rhea nodded in respect. "It's fine, don't worry about it," she waved him off. "And if you were going to keep complimenting me - please, go on, I really don't mind it," Rhea attempted a weak joke but stopped because she knew she would get no where. "Anyway, I'm Rhea. Rhea Bishop. You look vaguely familiar, might you have any idea why...?" Rhea trailed off unsurely, hoping that she hadn't come off as rude or anything.

It was a relief when she didn't get angry at him, instead making a joke that had the tension draining from his body with the knowledge that he hadn't totally messed this up. Her next comment had him wondering how much he say; he looked like an Avery but some of the cousins he shared features with weren't exactly the nicest people. And by 'not the nicest' he meant that he was fairly sure they'd been Death Eaters, or at least loud supporters of Voldemort during that time period.

"Yeah, I've heard that a few times. I suppose I look a lot like my father's side of the family - " It was then that he noticed the book she'd dropped, one of those history books that someone had written about pure-blood lineages. He bent down and picked it up, a slow smile growing on his face as he looked it over. He'd read it a couple of times at the urging of his parents and he knew it wasn't something you read if you weren't interested in pure-blood ideology.

That was a relief; she likely wasn't one of those people who go shrieking to the Headmaster if he said one bad word against a muggle-born. " - the Averys. Actually, I think my family may have had some dinner parties with yours."

He wouldn't even be surprised if they'd been at one of those functions at the same time, what with how many people seemed to come and go to those events. A lot of the stuff about how good Rhea was at flying and how everyone thought she'd make an amazing Quidditch player suddenly made a ton of sense. Anyone who took their backgrounds seriously in a family like the Bishops or Averys was more or less expected to be an overachiever. He wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if she was a straight-O student on top of whatever she did with Quidditch.

Blinking out of his thoughts, Max offered her the book back, maintaining his smile. "This is a good book for learning some of the family history, but I think it left out all the drama that goes on. I swear that at one dinner, everyone gets stabbed in the back more times than a first-year mudblood makes something explode."

Leaning against the bookshelf, Rhea stared at the boy - Max - who wondered how to answer her question. True, her inquiry was a bit oddly phrased, but she wanted to know the answer. After much thought, he finally answered her. 

"Yeah, I've heard that a few times. I suppose I look a lot like my father's side of the family," he said, and Rhea noticed his gaze trail towards the book that had fallen onto the ground during their collision. His eyebrows furrowed in thought but he continued to talk as Rhea waited patiently. The wood of the bookshelf was digging into the shoulder that Rhea was leaning with, so she shifted her shoulder around to get comfortable. 

"- the Averys. Actually, I think my family may have had some dinner parties with yours," he continued, and Rhea tilted her head in thought. The Averys? She'd heard of them, indeed. Her parents spoke highly of the pureblood family. But she didn't know they had a son - especially one that was in Gryffindor. Was he in the same predicament as her? Birthed a Slytherin, but sorted into a Gryffindor? Rhea assumed so, and started to ask him that but he beat her to it by commenting on the book that's she'd chosen to read. She nodded in agreement, particularly when he mentioned all the drama that happened at all the family dinners.

"Oh my Merlin, definitely," Rhea laughed as a small memory flitted across her mind. "I remember this one time-"

As Rhea started to move her hands to gesture, a small creak sounded next to her. She took no notice of it, which was her mistake. The bookshelf that she was leaning on bent in on itself just slightly, which forced the shelves holding the books to tumble down. Rhea yelped and jumped out of the way as three shelves came down heavily, but a book snagged her ankle. 

Max's grin grew as Rhea laughed, leaning forward slightly in readiness to hear about some more of the shenanagins that went on during one of the parties. It was that motion that allowed him to hear the tiny sound from the bookshelf, and his eyes flicked towards it a second before it seemed to cave slightly and then the shelves within it gave way completely. His eyes widened a fraction and he quickly moved out of range as the books started tumbling down, spilling every which way and probably making a mess the librarian would cry over.

He wanted to keep an eye on where his history book was so it didn't get lost among the others, but he saw a stray book going right for Rhea's feet and moved without thinking, throwing his arm out behind her so that if she fell, he'd be able to catch her before she hit the ground instead of letting her get swept away in the book avalanche.

"Well," he said, with a slightly rueful smirk that he couldn't quite manage to conceal. "That was impressive." He took in the mess on the floor, where his book had gotten lost somewhere in the midst of a bunch of other, similar-looking books. What business did the school have making such shoddy shelves, anyway? The workmanship of the wood was exceptional, but apparently the shelves were less so. Termites, maybe?

He shook his head before turning his attention to Rhea, scanning her for signs of injury. He hoped the book hadn't hurt her too much, not when she was so into flying. A broken ankle would be a right mess if someone was trying to kick off on a broom. "Are you alright?"

Just as she started to fall down, Max leant forward and caught her. When the books had finally finished tumbling and the ruckus had stopped, Rhea shakily stood up. Her face slowly turned red as she saw the commotion she'd caused. She started to laugh and try to fix the shelf with her hands, but couldn't quite succeed. She eventually gave up and tried to find the book she'd dropped. 

"Well," Max started with a smirk. "That was impressive."

Rhea laughed and nodded. "Why thank you," she curtsied dramatically, but a small pain shot through her ankle. It was too big, but still enough for her to recognize. She sighed in annoyance at her clumsiness and knelt down to examine it. She couldn't see anything too wrong with it, but there was a small scratch. Was it a paper cut, or had one of the shelves cut her? She knew that she could probably just leave it to heal alone, but she had a Quidditch game coming up and couldn't risk not able to fly. She decided that she'd have to go to the Hospital Wing later on, but not right now.

Max asked her if she was alright, and she nodded. "Yeah, it's not too bad. Just a little scratch is all." She looked at the bookshelves, wondering what had caused to fall down. "I have no idea what happened. Aren't the shelves supposed to be glued together by magic, or something?" 

Rhea knelt down again, and started to look for the history book again. She wanted to learn more about her history, see if any Bishop had ever been in Gryffindor. Perhaps then her family would accept the fact that she was in Gryffindor. When she told them, that is. 

Max watched her look over her injury, satisfied when it turned out she hadn't snapped a bone in half or something drastic. He nodded at her next statement, eyeing the shelving that had turned out to be flimsy a little warily. "You'd think it would. Maybe Hogwarts got a budget cut in the library department. Or... you don't have any enemies, do you?" It was a joke. Mostly. A skilled witch or wizard could probably make something like this seem like an accident if they wanted to. Hopefully her family wasn't one of those ones who tended to have a enemy to friend ratio of a hundred to one.

Noting that she also wanted to find her book, he knelt down to start searching among all the ones that had fallen for any sign of either of their books. He started piling other books up as he looked, his thoughts drifting to what they'd been talking about before the accident. She hadn't given him grief for using the word mudblood and she had her own stories about the dinner parties. The only thing that baffled him now was why she was in Gryffindor.

"Hey, I don't want to be rude or anything, but why are you in Gryffindor?" he asked curiously, realizing a moment later that it might've come off as rude. "Not that I don't think you're a brave or loyal person - I don't know you well enough to judge - but I thought most of the Bishops were Slytherin?"

He found his book but instead of shouting out in happiness, he only hung onto it and studied the girl. Could it be that the Sorting Hat had put her in the wrong House as well? He'd met a couple of people who felt that way, and now he was honestly curious if it was true for more. Maybe the Sorting Hat had been drunk or something on that day.

A small laugh escaped her at his words. “Yeah, maybe they did,” then, when he asked if she had any enemies, Rhea shook her head, the smile not leaving her face. “Nope… not that I know of at least. My family does though, definitely.” Thinking about it, Rhea slowly came to the realization that most of her father’s friends spoke to him either because of his position, or they were scared of his influence. A small fear struck her - was that the case with her friends, too? What if they only liked her because of her status? It wouldn’t be new to her, but she hoped that it wasn’t the case. She had grown to like all those she’d met thus far.

Rhea snapped out of her trance and focused on what the boy was saying, something about why she was in Gryffindor. “Not that I don't think you're a brave or loyal person - I don't know you well enough to judge - but I thought most of the Bishops were Slytherin?” Rhea nodded somberly to his question, her smile slowly slipping away. His words only reminded her of her lie - her lie that if found out, would get her more even worse than the truth. When she’d lied to her parents about the house she was sorted into, she hadn’t expected it to plague her this much. She thought that it would be a one-and-done thing, not something that she would think over for so long. Pushing away her negative thoughts, Rhea focused on answering his question.

“Most Bishops have been in Slytherin,” she stated, relief flooding through her when it seemed he found the book. Instead of giving it to her, he held on, and Rhea took that as a nudge to keep going. “Honestly, I don’t know why I was sorted into Gryffindor. It’s been plaguing me since the beginning of the year, but you can’t really do anything about it now, right? Anyway, the house has started to grow on me. Now all I have to do is tell that to my parents.” More worries flooded through her head, so Rhea decided to retreat back to the table and take a seat, lying her head down on the desk and resting her chin on her open palms so she could still maintain eye contact with Max. “I have no idea what I’m gonna say. All I know is that it’s gonna be a disaster.”

It was a little shocking to hear that Rhea hadn't told her parents yet; he'd never even considered that an option. With the way things were, most pure-blood families knew where their children were sorted within the week. It was usually a hot commodity among them, bragging about how so-and-so had gotten into Slytherin or Ravenclaw because they were cunning or ambitious. If he was a little more cruel-minded he could take this information and send it to his parents so that they an upper hand in certain conversations. They'd certainly expect him to tell them things like this.

Instead, he nodded sympathetically and decided to keep it to himself because man, parents and their expectations could be harsh. "Not going to lie, they'll probably be right pissed at first," he answered as he stepped forward to set his book on the table and then went back to the others on the ground to pick them up. He focused on sorting them in alphabetical order, the motion helping him think. He was pretty sure there'd been one Bishop who wasn't Slytherin, but it might've been a rumour and his parents didn't talk about disgraceful people anyway. Not a Gryffindor, though, if he remembered correctly. "But it's not a bad House, if you think about it. At least it's not Hufflepuff."

He shook his head in memory of every Hufflepuff he'd ever met, his expression only lightening when he found Rhea's book. He stepped forward, laying it on the table in front of her. "I know almost every Gryffindor who should've been Slytherin has betrayed the families, but there's gotta be a first for everything. Instead of thinking about the past, tell them you'll be the one to break the chain. If they're anything like my family, I'm sure they'll love hearing you talk ambition." That was what he was going to say, at least. He'd told his family but they hadn't had The Talk yet. Hopefully that would work.

It was comforting to him try to comfort her, but Rhea's mind was already made up. She was going to get disowned, cast out of the family - just like Uncle Gaudin, except at least he wasn't put in Gryffindor. Gryffindor, the rival of Slytherin. The one house that her parents hated more than anything - something they had confirmed, over and over, over the course of her entire life. A memory interrupted her thoughts, of her at a dinner party not too long ago: it was just when she'd gotten her owl of acceptance, and her parents had hosted a party for her. In reality, it was just an excuse for another party...

Bright lights were shining, caterers were bustling around, women were attempting not to trip over the long ball gowns and men looked almost shiny in their pristine suits. Rhea was being primped and readied for the party that was to be held, house elves gathering around with her mother knocking every so often on her bedroom door. "Coming!" Rhea would call out, but in reality she would undo something that house elves had done so she could stall. In all honesty, Rhea didn't particularly dread these parties - she'd grown to like them, as the amount of times she'd attended one had sort of forced her to tolerate them. But she wasn't feeling this particular party - it would be full of pureblood women commending her on getting accepted, their voices full of high-pitched fakness as if they truly cared.

Finally, it was time for Rhea to stop stalling and venture out, down to the ballroom where she would have to encounter these purebloods. Just the thought sent a shiver down Rhea’s back - but her steps halted when she heard the distinct voices of her parents discussing something. Usually, Rhea would pay no mind to them, as they were probably discussing ways to lift their status. However, she heard her name, so the redhead paused and adjusted her direction so she was standing behind the corner from where they were. Making sure she could properly hear them, Rhea crept forward as much as she could.

“She must be a Slytherin,” came her father’s voice. “The other families will ruin us if she isn’t.”

“She is a Bishop, I am sure it is in her blood,” her mother’s voice sounded. “I do believe she is still our daughter no matter what house she is in, no?”

“No,” her father’s voice was firm, leaving no room for discussion. “A Bishop that is not a Slytherin is not a Bishop. It was the same case with your brother, do you not remember?”

Rhea could hear her mother sigh, and could almost see her shaking her head. “She is still our daughter-”

“Yes, she may still be our daughter, but she will not be treated as such…” Rhea didn’t stick around to hearing the rest of her father’s words, instead running back around where she came from and slamming the door to her room.

She did not come out of her room that night.

Slowly coming out of her daydream, Rhea focused on what Max was saying. She shrugged and sighed, deciding that there was no point in actually imagining a better future. If she was to tell them that she was in Gryffindor, they would disown right away, uncaring if she had an O average, was a prefect, and was involved in all the possible clubs. They wouldn’t care to hear her defend herself, wouldn’t care to hear her ‘talk ambition.’ She decided not to tell Max any of this, seeing as he was trying his best to comfort her and she didn’t want to be rude. She decided not to bring up the fact that she’d expressively heard them saying that they would not treat her as their daughter anymore - granted, it was only her father who said he wouldn’t, but Rhea knew that her mother would follow in his steps. No matter how much she didn’t like that thought.

“I’ve already lied and sent them an owl telling them I was sorted into Slytherin,” Rhea explained. “Granted, I doubt they actually read it and opened it. But, I do believe they think I’m in Slytherin, otherwise I would have been sent an angry Howler. But anyway… What about you? I doubt the Averys were happy to learn of your Sorting into Gryffindor.”

It was something that really made Rhea wonder. She knew of the Avery’s history, and knew for a fact that they wouldn’t be happy that their son was sorted into Gryffindor. How had they reacted? Perhaps Rhea could use their reaction as a basis for that of her parents’ and make do with what else she knew for now.