「 Aelina Serebryakova, First Year, Gryffindor 」

Aelina Yeva Serebryakova
12 years · 1st · лев

Scandal did not settle well within the Serebryakovs. That is, at least not openly.

With roots that lie in Russia, where the word serebro (silver) produced its name, the muscovites had quickly planted their boots in wizarding soil. Not for influence, but for something humbler.

They were craftsmen once.

Not merchants, the distinction surely mattered. Where respect forged itself from metals and pride took the form of glittering coins, wares and favors soon weighed little; especially to those with pockets already full. No longer did the Serebryakovs care for building business, but rather building lineage.

Embarrassment held no place among them, not even in the case of Elizaveta.

Previously arranged, the baryshnya fled upon the final clock strike. Not with flair, nor tearful declaration, but with a silent vanishing of obligation. A new life was promised that day, and it would indeed be delivered.

Russia is wide enough to swallow a person whole if they wished it.

And so it did, spitting her out in a town with no reference of the name she'd discarded. Routines became simple, the people even more so. That is, apart from a strange looking man whom she'd exchanged names with on the train. A sniper by trade, he understood burying secrets better than anyone. It was a peaceful match, one steeped in silence.

By the time the baby arrived there was no rumor to spin, nor dust to sweep away. Elizaveta assumed it best to part ways with her slavic roots shortly after, a small town in Bibury quiet enough to house long buried secrets. For much of her youth, Aelina believed herself nothing short of ordinary. This much by design, a world molded to be unremarkable in every aspect of the word. For eight years, the illusion held still.

Magic, however, does not care for what is believed.

The girl was eight when it happened, an act small enough to keep under poorly fastened wraps. No words, only a shot that seemed too accurate for a child of Aelina's nature. Truth be told, it was. A proud father could only assume his marksmanship had been passed down, dark to the fact his own blood coursed nowhere through the girl to begin with.

Powerful families, however, do not forget what belongs to them; even those made in a broken promise.

Everett came for her in winter.

With a thin frame and lanky structure, garbs generally fall loose regardless of how perfectly tailored. Despite a multitude of clothing options at the girls disposal, her outfits tend to serve for practicality rather than fashion.

Her features themselves are delicate, narrow at the chin that blends into softened cheeks. When she speaks, albeit rarely, tone nor expression seems to reveal much.