frances weller | first year | slytherin

Frances stands at a height just slightly above average, rounding out at four feet ten inches. She has long brown hair that has just a touch of dishevelment to it, strong eyebrows, and a solemn face that, at best, appears dreadfully neutral, and at worst, moderately off putting. Looking at each individual part of the girl one would come to the conclusion that she's acceptably pretty, but given that Frances, even on her vainest of days, viewed her appearance as a mildly irritating distraction her features never really shone.

The Weller family was, by most accounts, fairly underwhelming from the perspective of both muggles and wizardfolk alike. The youngest Wellers, Frances and Teddy, lived with their muggle father, Andrew, in a suburb of Swansea. The only notable thing about Andrew's job as the manager of a small restaurant, most notable for it's quick and consistent lunch fare, was that it certainly didn't pay enough for the three bedroom home the family occupied. This was no issue, though, as humble Mr. Weller's wife, Lina, more than made up the gap.

Lina, who maintained her maiden name Nachtnebel due to the pair never marrying, was quite the opposite of her mate. She was a pureblooded witch, half German and half English, and the largest portion of the year away from home on adventures through various magical ruins across Europe. While the witch made fair money as a magical explorer, the real financier of the family's lifestyle came from her mother, Emma.

Born Emma Bickers, she came from a pureblooded English family of fairly minimal social standing, and similarly minimal financial background. However, she gained a fair bit of attention as a gifted potioness, enough so to secure a quite favorable marriage to the youngest son of a much more illustrious pureblood family in Germany, Gilbert Nachtnebel. Much like Lina and Andrew, the pair were an odd fit. While Emma was quite constrained, with razor focus and a shrewd eye, Gilbert was... fanciful. A trait that was a product of his lifestyle, Emma would say. His place in the world had always been carefully defined and protcted, something he had never had to worry about, and that allowed him to chase things such as pleasure, personal dreams, and most to Emma's chagrin, familial bonding that wasn't based around maximizing efficiency.

Yes, the subject of Frances's existence was a bit of a touchy subject for her grandmother, something that Frances was unfortunately aware of. The circumstances of her birth, being both out of wedlock and fathered by a muggle no less, endlessly grated at Emma. The elder witch viewed this as Lina spitting in the face of the sacrifices she had made in her youth in order to secure their social standing. While Emma was of a mind that Lina should, by all intents and purposes, leave the Wellers behind Gilbert heard nothing of it. He had a very close bond with Frances, and during the long stretches of time that Lina was away he'd step in to guide Frances through a proper witch's upbringing.

All of this has led Frances to have more than a passing desire to exceed, both to earn her grandmother's favor and to show Gilbert his efforts weren't in vain. Ever the serious child, she poured herself into studies even at a young age. The endless manuscripts and field analysis notes about Lina's study were, in many ways, the only way Frances really knew to connect with her, and she spent hours trying to make sense of the sketches of various ancient runes her mom had discovered, and learning everything about they mythical creatures her mom described encountering. She spent so much time chasing these fragments of her mom and the fantastical world she came from, that Frances often ignored the fact that she had an earnest, caring father who was around, but Andrew Weller more than understood the fascination with the magical world. He was just glad that, unlike himself, Frances could actually be part of it,

Two winters ago during a particularly nasty snowstorm Frances had spent the better part of the day crafting a diorama of an old castle her mother had taken her to see, and she was incredibly proud of it. The piece had been left sitting on a short table in the living room while the young girl went off to find a new activity to do, and had become the newest victim of the youngest boy in the house. Young Teddy Weller had developed an odd fixation on chewing on just about anything left in arms reach, and the artfully crafter spires were just the thing he was craving. When Frances returned to see Teddy treating her art project like giant slab of rock candy, breaking pieces of it off to chomp on, she'd gotten so upset that the pieces took on a life of their own and started pelting the boy.