Dear My Reputation Closed

₊⁺⋆ Date: Janurary 2025 | Number of words: 927| Dialogue: #aa5713

renowned fame. Her face, although it Stelle's grandmother, Andromeda Divogenia, is an imposing and stern figure. Her presence is marked by an almost intimidating elegance, always dressed in impeccably designed robes in dark tones that reflect her rigid and authoritarian personality. A woman worthy of being the head of a family with her must have once been the most beautiful, shows few wrinkles, as if even time had stopped before her iron will. But the women in her family eclipsed her daily thanks to her youth, although in her stoicism, she did not feel offended; She even felt proud. Andromeda is a woman of strict traditions and unwavering principles, proud of the purity of her family's magical blood and the political connections she has cultivated over the years, and she was proud of the development of each of her successors. Or at least that was the case until Stelle was born.

The relationship between Stelle and her grandmother is strained and complicated at best. Andromeda sees Stelle not only as her granddaughter, but also a project that must be molded to meet the family's standards. She treats her with a mixture of disapproval and expectation, rarely showing affection and instead demanding perfection in every aspect of her behavior. “We can’t let it go astray.” perhaps those were the sweetest words she had ever heard from her grandmother. Unlike other girls, Grandma represents for Stelle both a model of strength and a barrier that keeps her trapped in a mold she does not want to occupy. Their interaction is marked by orders, duties and speeches full of lessons in etiquette and politics, but void of warmth. Despite everything, Stelle recognizes that her grandmother does not act out of hatred, but out of fear, fear of mestizos like her. Upon entering Hogwarts, she learned more than quickly that her grandmother couldn't stand another Muggle in her family tree. How do I notice it? Easy, the first letter she received from her grandmother was a list of surnames, surnames that belonged to children her age, children of pureblood families. Children who were supposed to be her friends.

She never thought she would go further, at least until that morning. A snowy owl stopped at her window, she recognized 'Noble' perfectly. As she took the letter in her hands and broke the dark blue wax seal, she couldn't help but remember her grandmother's living room. Andromeda's living room had always been a place that inspired both respect and discomfort. A place she could only enter if her grandmother had personally invited her. The pristine carpet, the dark, heavy furniture, and the watchful eye of the family portraits hanging on the walls were a constant reminder of the expectations expected of anyone who ventured into that space. Stelle always walked carefully there, aware that even one misstep could be cause for disapproval. she could imagine her grandmother, sitting at her birch desk, surrounded by perfectly organized papers, with her pen writing each letter with divine patience.

The letter broadly informed her that the woman had spoken with the Castellano family. A family not only important, but also very powerful. In it, her successor, Theophilus, had heard about her in conversations between the two older women and wanted to be able to meet her. Lie. I knew it was a lie. Most of the words in that letter had small handwriting errors that she could quickly recognize. she decided to take a deep breath and finish his reading, after all, she was never one to refuse to make new friends. The task she had was simple, as soon as the boy wrote to her, she had to respond.

“Remember, a letter says as much about you as your presence.”

Those were the words that came back to her head when she received the acclaimed letter. With a calmness completely foreign to her and a soft smile at the corner of her lips. The curly girl tied up her hair with a brooch and began to answer that letter, making an effort to make sure her spelling was correct and her handwriting as harmonious and delicate as possible.

Dear Theophilus:
It is a pleasure for me to receive your letter, Let's just say that my grandmother didn't talk that much about you in her letter either. I am Stelle Mims, granddaughter of Andromeda Divogeni. I'm sure I've heard about your grandmother, apparently you both look alike.

I guess like me, you weren't given much time to process this or choose. I'll be clear, I like receiving letters, I really enjoy writing, but I won't force you to be my friend if you don't really want to.But, I hope we can get along.

Finally, you can ask whatever you want, I will wait anxiously for your next letter. I hope you have a great day when this letter reaches your hands.

Yours, Stelle M

When she finished her letter, she opened a small wooden box in which she kept things she liked. I take an envelope, the wax to close letters with its seal and a couple of dried flower petals. I carefully fold the letter, leaving the flowers inside, before putting it in the envelope to seal everything. When she finished her letter and carefully tied it to the leg of that majestic bird with a bow, she smiled and caressed the owl with the tips of her fingers. she looked at him for a few moments as he started his journey, getting up a few seconds later to go out for a while until the next letter arrived.

@Theophilus Castellano

━━━━━━━━Theophilus━━━━━━━━━

━━━━━━━━Castellano━━━━━━━━━

Pv w/@Stelle Mims - Janurary 2025 - Letters from England to Hogwarts

Life passed by after the letter was sent, leaving little time for the young boy to worry about what could have happened to it. Theophilus was slowly spending more time practicing his English than any other subject when his tutors were around. His grandmother had him reading novels online to her as she answered his letters; making him go back and repeat any words she felt could be said ‘better’.

He has started with Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy; having to say each pureblood’s name and list out all the ties he could from their family to his own. He had to list their partners, families they no longer spoke with, and families that were no longer pure. The book was big, but Theophilus could only think about the fact that the book was many years old; how many of the families wouldn’t even be added to the next edition?

At the end of the night, his voice was always hoarse from overuse, his bones bone were wary from standing for hours as he read for his grandmother, and his brain hurt from the work of making sure he remembered how to say each word correctly. Theophilus slept in early most nights because of this, collapsing into his bed and falling asleep before he could even move to close the curtains.

Tonight was going to be like all the others, he thought, and had already made the mental plans to kick off his casual robes instead of falling asleep in them again. He had already been given a lecture by his mother about taking good care in how he presents himself, even in private, so he knew that was a must. Only, when he was able to retire to his room, he found an owl waiting for him.

“Долго ждали have you been waiting long?” he asked the bird, as he walked to the window it was perched at, just inside the warming charms working overtime in his room. The owl huffed, making the child smile slightly. He wondered what was making the bird more annoyed; the fact he asked a silly question or the fact it was in Russian. “Не волнуйтесь, скоро я подготовлю для вас письмо, которое вы сможете вернуть. Don't worry, I'll have a letter ready for you soon that you can return.” The bird didn’t look full of joy at the notion of more work; though Theophilus’ cheeky smile could not be impacted by that.

The letter was from the girl at Hogwarts; Stelle Mims, he discovered, had actually decided to write him back. Divogeni wasn’t a name he saw in the book. Theophilus figured that would be the case for a good bit of the people he was requested to write to while the leading talk in his grandmother’s letters was about the up-and-coming topic of Education rights of Half breeds; a topic that was floating in Pureblood spaces more than he thought they should. The letter itself was small, though Theophilus didn’t really give her much to work with, he had to admit. He couldn’t even remember if he gave his name, his scrabbling to finish the letter in the first place taking over any memories he had of what he actually wrote.

Dear Stelle,

You wrote back fast! Hogwarts, not as lively as I thought? In all honestly, I figured you would have only the time to write essays for your classes, not enough to sneak one in for the grandson of a random person your grandmother knew. Though, I can not say much only how one spends the little bit of time they have; I am yawning as I write this reply!

I wouldn’t mind having a friend out there somewhere. I recently had a very big shift in my life and someone who can be an insider looking in might just be what i need to get myself out of the funk I found myself in.

Anyway, I have seem to have found a way to ramble even without opening my mouth, so I figure it is about time to send this letter off. The owl doesn’t look happy about how long my reply is taking either!

Sincerely,
Theophilus.

[698/200 wc]

₊⁺⋆ Date: Janurary 2025 | Number of words: 1077| Dialogue: #aa5713 ⋆⁺₊

Stelle's day at Hogwarts was beginning chaotically, as always. The Hufflepuff dormitory was illuminated by the first rays of light filtering through the rounded windows. Stelle tossed around in the covers of her bed, trying to find one last bit of sleep before the bustle of her roommates forced her to get up. her curly blonde hair was tangled as always, but she didn't care; she simply stood up, shook off the covers, and began dressing with a carefree attitude. It really didn't require much effort to look good. As she buttoned her black tunic with the yellow details of her house, her thoughts were already far away, jumping from one idea to another, planning the day ahead. I hated History of Magic and everything related to sitting for hours listening to the teacher. It was too much for her restless spirit. But at least she had Herbology afterwards, something she always found fascinating, although what really excited her was lunch. Stelle walked down the stairs from the dormitory to the common room, her favorite place in the castle. The warm stone walls, comfortable armchairs and decor reminiscent of a badger den made her feel at home. she grabbed a piece of bread from a basket on the coffee table, a snack to quell her hunger as she headed to breakfast in the Great Hall.

The castle had its own magic, even on the coldest mornings. The stone hallways echoed with the footsteps of students, and the portraits murmured greetings or complained about their noise. Stelle always walked in a hurry, her books poorly stacked in her arms, occasionally bumping into other students on her way. she was clumsy, but she never seemed to care too much. her energy was like a whirlwind that she couldn't contain. In the Great Hall, Stelle sat at the Hufflepuff table, surrounded by familiar faces. she barely touched a bit of toast and pumpkin juice before she began fiddling with a piece of candy she had taken out of her pocket. her mind was already wandering, thinking about how she could stop History of Magic from becoming torture. Maybe I could scribble notes instead of paying attention. At least it would be something productive, she thought with a smile. Even though it wasn't right, even though sshe won't enjoy it, it was part of her responsibilities and her family would hate her if her averages dropped below an eight.

The afternoon was spent between the library and the castle grounds. In the library, she looked for a book on enchantments that she had heard mentioned by a classmate, but ended up getting lost in the pages of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. Then she went out to the gardens, enjoying the cold breeze that marked winter. her boots crunched against the dry leaves as she walked near the lake, throwing pebbles into the water and watching the ripples spread. When night came, Stelle was exhausted, but in a satisfying way. she returned to the common room, where the fire crackled in the fireplace and students gathered to chat or play games of wizard chess. Stelle tried to survive with a sigh, went up the stairs to get to her room and sit at her desk, where she took out a diary from her bag and began to write. They weren't serious notes, just random thoughts, memories of the day, or maybe a quick drawing of the Tentacula she'd seen in class. her writing was a chaos of words, but it was a more than beautiful chaos (despite the mess it appeared to be on the outside), and that was enough. Hogwarts could be exhausting, frustrating, and chaotic, but for Stelle, it was also the place where she could be herself. She closed her eyes, allowing the sounds of the castle to lull her to sleep, or at least that was her idea.

The sound of the majestic bird woke her from her slumber, remembering her responsibilities outside the castle. The curly girl took a deep breath, returning to her desk and took a couple of nuts out of her bag for the owl. —What are you doing here? Were you able to rest? You look exhausted—. she murmured to the bird before taking the letter and returning to leave it some more food. When she thought about the words expressed by that boy, she thought for a moment about her and her grandmother, but then immediately about the owl. she smiled softly, taking paper and tape, murmuring —Don't worry, I'll take a while for you to rest…—. Without giving it much more thought, she began to write, thinking carefully about her words to avoid conflicts with strangers.

Dear Theophilus:

For me, it depends on how much you let school get to you. It's not easy, but it's really fun! There's so much to do, and the people are amazing. I have a lot of girlfriends, even though I don't have any male friends. The truth is that the girls are very nice, most of the guys here tend to be a bit cocky or shy. And regarding the subjects, I wouldn't say they are easy, but they are not that difficult either. It depends on your knowledge to be able to learn faster or not.

I understand what you are saying about the changes. I know how difficult it can be when life seems to shake you without warning. Hogwarts was a huge change for me, although I suppose most would expect someone with my last name to have everything under control by now. But the truth is that even with all the magic and expectations, there are days when it doesn't seem as wonderful as the books say. Perhaps sharing letters with you is a good way to remember that I am not alone in these feelings.

What is the name of your owl? She is beautiful, don't pressure her, I don't mind waiting a little for your letters. And if we're talking about rambling, let's just say I have experience. My grandmother hates it, but I just can't help it. Maybe it's weird, but I really would like to be your friend.I think we could understand each other well.

I hope this exchange is as helpful to you as it is to me. It never hurts to have someone to share a little of what's on your mind with, even if it's through scrolls.

Yours, Stelle M

She was really enjoying writing, it served as a moment in which she could disconnect and share in a different way with someone else. She carefully arranged small petals again before to keep the letter in the envelope and then seal it. He carefully handed the envelope to the owl and smiled as he watched it take flight.

@Theophilus Castellano

━━━━━━━━Theophilus━━━━━━━━━

━━━━━━━━Castellano━━━━━━━━━

Pv w/@Stelle Mims - Janurary 2025 - Letters from England to Hogwarts

Days passed, and the letter had come, yes, but it sat unopened. Theophilus spent the hours between his letters following his grandmother to various meetings with other wizards; some in the same fancy robes he was forced to wear, others in fancy suits that looked even more uncomfortable than the robes. He sat at desks, tables, sunrooms, offices - every place a talk could happen and every place someone like his grandmother would approve of.

He had met so many families, his grandmother quizzing him on each family after the meetings; the Nordens, Gwilds, and other purebloods were all introduced to him for this reason or that.

The Nordens were notorious for their influence in the dueling arena, the family owning one of the teams themselves and throwing many galleons in the purebloods betting pools - many times leaving with the whole pot. They also owned a profitable shipyard, and many of their clients were already some of the people his grandmother had forced him to know about. They had one child themselves but she was mostly Hogwarts-age.

The Gwilds didn’t have their hands - and money - in too many things like that of the other family, but they did have some influence in the ministry. International Co-Magical Cooperation wasn’t a very exciting name for what they did, but that opinion was built on the back of Theophilus not knowing what those words really meant. “You must think outside just the walls of the British wizards - influence should be international.”

Each visit was more tiring than the last, each family more pure and holding more influence than the ones before them. His grandmother talked to them for hours; trading stories, laughs, and other small talk- though Theophilus was always sent out for a bit each visit; to fetch a house elf here, to take a stroll there, to be gone. He asked once if there was something he wasn’t supposed to know about these visits, to the amusement of his grandmother. “Why would I let a little boy know of such things?” She had laughed, “There are things that need to be talked about that are much too important for you to know for now.”

He wasn’t satisfied with that answer, but who was he supposed to get another from?

By the time he could sit and write his next letter, the season was warming. He wrote his letter in a rush, not waiting to put it off any longer and not knowing when his grandmother would pull him up and out of the house again.

Dear Stelle,

Long time since my last words were written for you, I know, though not without regret. I have been pulled around from pureblood family to pureblood family in the last couple of weeks. I fear I will meet the scarce 26 and then some by the rate she is going, but my Grandmother has her mind set and she will see it through.

How have you been? I’m sorry I haven't been sending you letters to make the days a little bit better, though I hope maybe they have been light nonetheless.

Regarding the owl, his name is Adalbert, named after Adalbert Waffling. My grandmother has many owls, all named after greats, but he is the only one that actually seems to like not being at her beck and call.. I believe he likes the rest.

Anyway, I must go, I believe today we are meeting a duke or something; another person I will be forced to remember. Wish me luck.

With love and patience,
Theophilus.

[590/200 wc]

₊⁺⋆ Date: Janurary 2025| Number of words: 883| Dialogue: #aa5713 ⋆⁺₊

The day started badly from the moment Stelle opened her eyes. The morning light streamed through her bedroom window, too bright for her liking. Her hair, as always, was tangled, but today it seemed to have completely rebelled. She tried to run her fingers through her curls, only for half of them to get stuck in an undoable knot. She huffed, annoyed, and ended up opting to quickly pull it up into a messy bun before going downstairs to breakfast.

And that was when she realized it was already late. Very late.

Her stomach growled in protest as she rushed into the dining room only to find the table empty. Breakfast was already over and there were barely a few crumbs of bread left on a plate. Of course, she could always go to the kitchen and ask for something, but she was not in the mood to deal with disapproving glances or comments about her morning clumsiness. She had to settle for an apple and hurried out.

The first class of the day did not improve her mood. History of Magic. Just what she needed. She tried to stay awake, but the professor’s words floated around her meaninglessly, like she was listening to an unfamiliar language. By the time class was over, her head was pounding and she felt like she hadn’t learned anything. She tried to convince herself that the day would get better, but that hope was dashed when she arrived at the next class and discovered she’d forgotten her book in her room. She sighed, resigned to sharing with someone else, but most of the seats were already taken and she had no choice but to sit in the back, where she could barely see what the professor was writing on the board. And then came Potions. Stelle already knew it wasn’t her strong suit, but today was especially frustrating. Her potion was supposed to turn a light amber hue… and somehow she’d ended up with a thick, dark green liquid that bubbled suspiciously. To make matters worse, a fellow tablemate accidentally bumped into her, causing her to spill some potion on her robes. Now she smelled something between rotten eggs and burnt herbs.

By lunch, she had no desire to socialize left. She plopped down on a bench and fiddled with the food on her plate half-heartedly. Not to mention that the next month didn't promise to be anything nice. Valentine's Day. She liked it, she loved seeing the couples in love and the box of chocolates on the table, but not this year. She was away from home, she probably wouldn't get any gifts. It didn't affect her completely, but she was more sensitive than other days and everything seemed like a big deal.

When night fell, Stelle dropped into her bed with a sigh. The day had been a disaster from start to finish, but at least tomorrow would be another day. Until she heard a bird fluttering against her window. She lifted her head dejectedly and got out of bed to greet the owl. She took a deep breath, sitting at her desk and opened the letter carefully, to read it in the hopes of improving her mood.

She read silently, allowing the words to paint pictures in her mind. She imagined Theophilus sitting among adults in opulent robes and uncomfortable suits, trapped in meetings that didn't interest him and surrounded by expectations that weighed more than any confinement spell. She could almost see him turning away, walking away with vague excuses, trying to find some respite in the maze of pureblood conversations. What did his face look like? The truth was, she didn't know him, not even a little. Now that she thought about it, it was strange talking to someone whose face she didn't know.

She smiled as she read about Adalbert, wondering if the owl had developed a preference for his owner or if he simply enjoyed the feeling of freedom that Theophilus's house surely didn't offer him. When she reached the end, with the last line written in that tone of resignation tinged with irony, she felt a small knot in her chest. "With love and patience." She took a deep breath before picking up her pen. She wouldn't make him wait too long this time.

Dear Theo:

I'm sorry to read that your days have been so busy. I understand how tiring it can be, my grandmother could be the same. But in time it will pass; at least your list of people to meet will have decreased.

As for my days, up until today, they were going great. I guess today I just got up on the wrong side of the bed. I just want to go to sleep and have it all go away. I hate smelling like rotten eggs, I've tried everything to get rid of the bad smell. It hasn't really helped my bad mood.

I hope our letters at least help ease your heavy days a little, and I'm sorry this isn't a particularly happy letter or long, I really am not in the mood to respond or tell much more about today.

Tell me something, do dried flowers bother you? I'll stop adding them to my letters in case they do.

Yours, Stelle M

@Theophilus Castellano

━━━━━━━━Theophilus━━━━━━━━━

━━━━━━━━Castellano━━━━━━━━━

Pv w/@Stelle Mims - March 2025 - Letters from England to Hogwarts

One of the best parts maintained on the Castellano Manor’s grounds was the gardens. Centuries ago, Lord Philipine Castellano; the fourth-great uncle to Theophilus, took to Herbology to pass the time. His niece, Ms Henrietta Shakestra nee Castellano, took to flower gardening in her youth at the home before she married. Several greenhouses were stationed towards the sideyard of the Property; some full of Wizarding plants for potions, moving and talking just like the beings that saw over them. Some of the greenhouses, though, were full of more dormant plants, that would might see resting in the flowerbeds in front of Muggle homes.

Theophilus’ bedroom at the Manor saw over the east side of the gardens, over hedges perfectly trimmed by houses elfs that wore floppy hats that were made so their floppier ears could stick through. He would stand at the window on the sunny days, looking over the garden as they worked; watching each of them as they careful used their spells to upkeep each plant to proper perfection.

Some days he would be at the window when the owls would be coming back, and would be able to watch as they dipped low to fly around the house to get to the sitting room where he spent most of his time that he was around his grandmother. As January became February, then March; Theophilus watched more owls leave then come back. His letter from Stelle collected dust on his desk, not because he didn’t want to send her a letter back; more so because he really didn’t have much to say as of yet. He was mostly just waiting for Hogwarts these days anyway.

His grandmother had been a Ravenclaw when she was in school, his late grandfather a slytherin. They were years apart from each other; he had learned, not even speaking until his grandfather was out of school already.

Sometimes the young boy would dwell on what house he might get put in. His mother never went to Hogwarts so she couldn’t give him any input on what house he should be wanting to go in; though his grandmother told him also long as he stayed in a house close to what his ancestors were in he would be warmly welcome by the castle. So that left Ravenclaw and Slytherin.

Today though, he was not thinking of Hogwarts, well not completely. He was thinking of the girl whos letter he needed to answer. Theophilus sighed from his spot by the window, it was rainy today so he couldn’t distract himself using the gardens like he did when the sun was out. The boy looked over at his desk, the letter folded among the other, the flowers sent with them still with each of it’s letters.

It took some more mental convincing before he was walking over and sitting at his desk, even more to find his ink and a clean quill. He doodled a little in the corner of the paper before starting to write, a snitch crudely drawn in the corner.

Dear Stelle,

Sorry for the delay with this letter, I would love to say my life is so full that I lacked the time to pick up a quill, but I would be untruthful in that regard. I merely have seemed to find no motivation to do much more than look forward to the future and what it will bring once I’m at the school, with you and all the others like us.

I catch myself looking forward to finding out which house I will be placed in when the time comes, whether it will be ones like my family have been in throughout the past or if I will break the tradition I just learned off. I think I would look good in green, blue or yellow; the red though, I do not think it would look good on me. What house are you in? I do not remember if I asked you anywhere in our letters.

As for the flowers, I do not mind them, I actually keep them with each of the papers they come with. I figure they won’t last long just laying on my desk but I have no where to truly put them that I could see as a good place. Any suggestions?

These last couple months haven’t been too stressful; less letters to read, almost no trips from the house. Speaking of, what is your manor like? I don’t think I have ever asked you so many questions but I feel rather curious as I sit and wait in my room. Maybe I will start a book soon, anything you suggest?

Anyway, I’ve asked all many questions on one piece of parchment for now. I hope you are well.

With love and Curiosity,
Theophilus.

[798/200 wc]