chiara d'angelo ≫ first year ≫ hufflepuff

There were few things that Chiara remembered about her life before she turned two. Warm, yellow walls and the faint smell of lavender drifting in through the window were the few defining factors of the D’Angelo estate in Genoa that had survived amongst the blankness of her early memories. She had moved to Rome a year after that, leaving behind the countryside as well as all of her recollection of it.

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The marriage of Alessandra Pellegrini and Leonardo D’Angelo had been planned out for more than a decade before it became official. It was a beneficial negotiation to make for both of the families involved. Securing a proper marriage early was an important step in a child's upbringing for a properly pureblooded child who belonged to a surname of proper standing. The Pellegrini and D’Angelo surnames were both considered respectable so a union between the two would result in a fine pairing.

It wasn’t until they started Beauxbatons that Leonardo and Alessandra met face-to-face for the first time. From the very first meeting it was clear that the pairing wasn’t going to work out. They couldn’t have been more different from each other. Where Alessandra was bold and opinionated, Leonardo was traditional and reserved. Most of their interactions ended in contempt, disagreement, or frustration with the other person.

Despite that, the marriage went through and the knot was tied the day after their graduation from Beauxbatons. In honor of their matrimony they were given full ownership of the D’Angelo family estate. After they moved back to Italy, Leonardo took a job at the Italian Ministry of Magic and Alessandra started training to become an Auror.

There was only so long that someone like Alessandra could go on without speaking out. With a two-year old daughter and a final examination on the horizon her life was hectic. Because of the stress she was in, the young woman was snapping at every little thing that upset her. This did not improve relations between her and her husband or the extended families. It was clear that the fabricated facade of their relationship would crumble, it was only a matter of when it would happen.

A few more months went by and it had reached a point where the couple couldn’t stand to be with each other for one more day. There was only one option in that case— consulting the ones who had made the marriage. They organized a special dinner as a means of doing this where both sets of parents were invited to the estate for the evening.

Once the information was spilled it wasn’t hard to gauge the collective reaction of the council. A scandal like that could negatively impact the image of their surname for years to come. If there was one thing Giovanna Pellegrini didn’t want, it was to be the talk of the town because of her daughter’s marriage troubles. The D’Angelos would surely be upset with them as well. That left them with one viable option.

From that day onward, Alessandra was no longer Alessandra D’Angelo or Alessandra Pellegrini. She was just a blank spot in the family tree, one who did not turn out well enough to be spoken of again. What became of her after that is not known but it is assumed that she turned to muggle society. The child, Chiara, was registered into the foster care system, also to become an unspoken character in the family history.

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The Romano household never suffered a boring moment. With three biological children and three adopted there is always something going on whether it was a squabble over the television, a game of monopoly, or whose turn it was to ride in the front seat of the car.

Estella Romano worked out of her garage. Well, her studio, as she preferred to call it. Aside from the family minivan, the studio held a plethora of what looked like random junk. That was her medium. Rows and rows of shelves of recycled bits and pieces along with a few more common art supplies like paint. Some of it was the kids' stuff that they had outgrown, other pieces were just found on the street. Junk sales were a big hotspot as well. To the untrained eye it looked like a mess but Estella knew where each and every item came from.

Giovanni Romano was the one who was tasked with selling his wife's artworks. It was not an easy job. Some days there were many customers and others there were none. Often they were rude, snobbish even. It took all of his patience to deal with them during the day so he was ready to collapse by the time he came home.

Chiara was the youngest of the six. Sofia, the eldest one was 7 years older than her. Aurora, the next one was 5 years older, then Luca who was 4 years older, then Valentina who was 2 years older, and finally Roberto who was only 6 months older. Out of the group, she was the quietest and least argumentative which was not saying much. As the youngest, it was her job to keep the peace.

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Chiara's tenth birthday bash was an event planned out months before. It had been the subject of notes passed in class and whispers at lunch. Everything had to be planned out down to the color of table cloths that they were going to use for dinner that night. Her friend group was obsessed. They couldn't seem to talk about anything else.

Eventually, the night of the big event came. Chiara had spent the whole morning preparing with the help of her family. Even the most popular girls in her grade were coming so it had to be perfect.

The final result was spectacular. Every inch of the townhouse was covered in some sort of banner, streamer, or poster. There were green zig-zags next to red plaid, purple polka dots next to yellow stars, and teal swirls next to pink hearts. It looked like it was decorated by a bunch of nine-year-olds (it was.)

One by one the guests started to arrive and the house filled up. Everyone was having a great time so far. There was laughter, games, and plenty of food.

Outside, on the front path, a figure was approaching. Dark gray robes were drawn close around his body, obscuring most of the distinguishing features of the man. He stopped for a second, contemplating his decision before approaching the door. Knock. Knock. Knock

At the sound, Estella opened the door. It was probably just a party guest who was running late. The man— Leonardo— entered the townhouse, scrubbing. Many of the kids turned to look at him, marveling at his strange apparel and uneasy demeanor. He spoke quietly to the parents and they all departed to another part of the house away from the scene of the party.

Chiara, however, didn't notice him until a good hour later. The party was still going on and she was caught up in greeting guests and making sure everything was going smoothly.

Suddenly, she felt the tap of Valentina's hand on her back. "Mamma and Papa* want to speak with you," she informed her, "They're in the office area."

Chiara proceeded into the office with caution. This was usually what happened when one of them was in trouble (which was very rare in her case.) What had she done wrong that could be so urgent to interrupt her party?

* Italian for mom and dad
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"It's just for a year," they informed her. "It is important that you go with him to explore witchcraft and your powers." "We will wait for you." That was the one that stung most of all. The idea of getting shipped off to live with someone who was claiming to be a wizard and also her birth father sounded rather insane. He could be a crazed madman for all she knew. However, it didn't look like she had any choice in the matter. The decision had been made for her and her bad were already packed. She tried to suppress her anxieties as she tied her shoes and stepped out the door. If her parents trusted him then she did too.

The cold air whipped through her hair as she stepped into the cool, fall night. "We'll be taking a portkey. We'll be there in no time." Leonardo stated briskly as they walked down the path that ran through the townhouse's small front garden. Despite having many questions, Chiara didn't say anything as they continued to walk. She could call back for her parents now. It was her last chance.

Chiara turned back around to take a glance at the house. No, she couldn't do it. Her brain was populated with worries. Leonardo held out a newspaper. "This should do it." She held her hand out and was whisked away.

Amidst the nausea and swirling of the portkey one thing became clear. She wasn't going to see those people again it for a long, long time.

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Exactly one year had passed since that day. It seemed like so much longer to the now eleven-year-old girl. Perhaps it was the blustery cold that seemed to carry on throughout all of the months of the year or the inability to have contact with the outside world. The D'Agostino estate in Scotland didn't have computers or wifi. It didn't even have electricity. At least there was running water.

Twelve months of not being able to contact the outside world was enough to drive anyone crazy. Chiara barely made it through. At first, she had tried to socialize with the few butlers and maids that her father kept on hand but the relationship was too formal. They treated her like a lady— some prized treasure to be attended to and never left unguarded. Her father himself was too detached from the world to talk to. If the topic of conversation was something other than the properties of advanced Transfiguration or basic small talk he was not the right person to talk to. Besides them, no one else was admitted into the estate. The bachelor liked his space, that was for sure. Even the few scholarly friends he had were always relegated to the inn downtown.

The D'Agostino estate wasn't exactly the most entertaining place to be stuck either. There were plenty of musty, old books lining the shelves but the topics were usually quite dull. Sonnets of a Sorcerer was Chiara's personal favorite of the bunch but that wasn't high praise. Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration was exactly what the title sounded like and one look at Flesh Eating Trees of the World was enough to give her nightmares.

Instead of reading, Chiara preferred to spend her time in a different room of the house. Up in one of the house's many turrets, the arts parlor was a relic of the generations past. Paintings upon paintings of long-deceased relatives covered the walls and leaned up against the floorboards. Two bay windows with cushioned window seats lined the far wall and looked out on the garden. A weathered grand piano stood as the lone centerpiece of the room, old and decaying yet still somehow in tune.

There Chiara sat, her legs sprawled across the window seat. She took a glance out the window as she colored the sky with her watercolors. Her face was scrunched in concentration as she painted, tuning out the rest of the colors and noises in the world.

Then came the knocking. Chiara put down her paintbrush and took a look to see what had caused the noise. It certainly didn't sound like a human to her. Probably because it was at the window, not the door. She looked out and her eyes landed upon an owl. It was a snowy owl, slightly small for the species but still of strong and hardy build. Like most owls in the wizarding world, in its beak was a letter.

Chiara opened the window and reached out for the letter. She took a moment to think about things as they were. Despite being a pureblood, there were still many things she didn't understand about magical culture. The letter was probably addressed as a mistake. She would put it in her father's office later that day.

First Instance of Magic:

Any child of primary school age would agree that the first day of school is a big deal. The quality of a teacher could be the make or break factor for a whole year. Getting to see friends after the summer was also a big cause of the pre school year excitement.

When it came to the first grade there was a lot more nervousness than in any of the older years. Chiara entered her assigned classroom, squeezing Estella's hand tightly. A scattering of primary colors and words she couldn't yet read made the space all the more overwhelming for the young girl. The din of children's voices filled the air as more and more of her classmates arrived. She took a few steps away from her mother to watch them coming in through the window. To the five year old, each one felt like a mile instead of just a foot.

While she was enraptured in her thoughts, a boy larger than her size walked up to her. The crooked grin on his face and the tube of bright green paint made it clear that he was up to no good.

The next thing she noticed was a small splat as the paint fell swiftly to the floor, narrowly missing her dress. Interesting. Chiara considered it for only a second before moving on. There were more pressing worries to have in her head like why the boy would do that or whether she would have any friends. The experience faded from her memory along the rest of the insignificant moments of her life.