Amaya watched as her parents drifted away to talk with some pureblood friends.

So much for a “loving holiday” together.

When she’d gotten into Slytherin, her parents had been elated, showering her with more praise then she’d seen her entire life. Well, they’d only said a couple of statements laced with fresh pride, but that was a lot to Amaya. At least, by her standards.

She remembered that warm feeling, the feeling that had filled her with joy because her parents had finally seemed proud of her. She was finally enough! But that had lasted the all of three days, and then it was all back to normal. They’d at least started giving her a allowance to spend, three gallons a day, if she met their “standards”, and she’d gone and bought herself a warm cup of pumkin juice. They’d made idle talk, with her mother spotting their little pureblood friends, and that was when her parents disappeared into the crowd of wizards and witches.

So staring down at the table, she sighed. Every time she thought she was close, that gap between them pushed stronger, reminding her of their faults and how no matter how much she longed for it, they didn’t care.

She slipped into her mask once more, her perfect little pureblood mask, and smiled, filling her face with a fake warmth and happiness.

Then she swirled the juice around in it’s cup, and took a small sip.

Warmth spread through her, and it tasted great! It was one of the only things that Amaya has a interest in trying out, other then the famous butterbeer, and decided to savor the rest of the juice by slowly consuming it, one sip by one sip.

There was a great urge to just chug it down, but she restrained her instinct, instead, continuing to slowly let it flow down.

She hung her head in a sigh. No matter how much she used her little mask, she was still a insecure little girl deep down, but that side was hidden, buried so deeply underneath piles and piles of her many sides. Her outermost later was a shyer, quiet one, with her second layer being that rambley side of her, her third layer full of her ambition and hidden yearning for her parents to genuinely want her and surround her with affection, and the other side of her third layer, the small hope that she would have friends that truly understood her. And hen there was her last layer, her last protective layer, a layer that spoke of her blankness, a layer that had the ability to draw on her other emotions, and harness it into her mask. It was a layer there merely to be there, a layer that was part of her and had always just been... there.

And then there was her core. Insecure, broken little girl yearning for someone to recognize her, someone to recognize who she was, yearning for someone to understand her, yearning for her parents to genuinely support her.

Shaking out of her daze, she discovered her cup was empty, and finding a couple more spare change, ordered another one, staring emptily at the table.

It was funny how such a small action could have such a big effect on her.

Amaya laughed slightly.

She quickly diverted her thoughts to Potions, the one thing she had enjoyed for her own benefit, the one thing she could enjoy without getting it torn away by her parents. Potions.

She settled into a calm state, a calmness that rolled over her, whispering words of comfort and soothing her.

After all, it was rare for Amaya to simply be calm.

Bernadette, with a bird nested in her pinkish-red hair, sat down next to the lonely-looking girl. She ordered a warm butterbeer. As she waited, her gaze curiously flickered around the lively tavern. While Bernadette had been here before, it was only to get to Diagon Alley. But now that she had sat down and stopped for a moment, it felt completely different. “I wonder if there are any Hogwarts students around...” she wondered, still looking around the room. “Hey, kid.” There was a pause. “Kid.” And another. “KID!” She whipped around to see the bartender pushing a butterbeer towards her. “Oh! Thank you, sir.” She chirped, taking her warm beverage. She felt the urge to lick the overflowing froth off of the sides but quickly dismissed it. “Ollie, want some?” She whispered to her pet bird. He fluttered down and gulped up the excess froth. “Lucky.” She whispered, taking a sip from the actual glass. It was warm and filling, the kind of thing you would drink with your nose nestled in a book. Ollie, having drank his little bit of Butterbeer-froth, flew off, but not onto Bernadette’s head like usual. In fact, he flew and perched onto the girl next to Bernadette’s head. “Ollie, no!” She screamed, grabbing him off of the girl’s head. “Oh, jeez, I’m sorry! I don’t know why he did that...” She frantically apologized, placing Ollie on his rightful perch. She looked up to the colorful bird on her head. “You should know better than to perch on other peoples’ heads.” She hissed, trying not to attract any more attention.

Amaya hadn’t noticed the girl next to her for a while, still in her daze, still desperately trying to shy away from the truth that one could see so easily, the truth that she denied so often.

That was, until the bird landed on her head. It was kind of hard to miss a sudden weight on your head, and it had effectively brought her back to the soft chattering of The Leaky cauldren.

“It’s alright,” Amaya smiled softly, looking at the bird with interest, before noticing how the girl next to her was also a Hogwarts student, Ravenclaw, judging by her robes. If asked, she would deny enjoying the warmth radiating from Ollie(at least, that’s what she thought his name was), and would definitely deny the fact that she had been mildly disappointed when the other girl had taken him off his newfound perch.

“Hi... Hogwarts as well?”, Amaya asked, if only to strike some conversation. “And what type of bird is he?”

She’d never really found a interest in animals, but she’d always found a small comfort in watching birds gracefully gliding through the sky.

“And I’m Amaya, Amaya Bourne,” Amaya outstretched a careful hand, giving the other girl a tentative smile.

“O- oh.” Bernadette wasn’t used to responses. She had been expecting an angry tut or even a groan of disgust. Usually her parents shoved her away and suggested that she do something else, like read or practice piano. And the house-elves just ignored her or bribed her with food to go away. She wondered if her parents put them up to that. “I’m Bernadette Winterwell, but I prefer to be called Birdie. It’s shorter. And this is Ollie, my twin brother. He’s a White-eyes.” She gestured to the short, colorful songbird that had fallen asleep on her head. Birdie paused for a moment. It had been about a year since she’d talked to another person. Well, when they were willing to talk. Besides Ollie, but he was no longer a human. Birds can’t exactly answer questions. “And... and yes. I’m a First Year. Ravenclaw.” She awkwardly smiled. “Which house are you in?” Birdie prayed she wasn’t being overly awkward or pressing too hard. “I- I’m sorry, I’m being annoying. I’ll leave you alone now...” She murmured. “It’s just... been a while since I’ve talked to someone my age.” And just like that, Birdie screwed it up. “Oh jeez, uh...” She tried to think of something, ANYTHING that wouldn’t scare her new ‘friend’ away. “...Do... do you like birds?”

Amaya watched the other girl with mild confusion. “Twin brother? Had he reincarnated?”

Amaya realized how blunt she was being and quickly backtracked. “I’m sorry for being really insensitive... I’m a Slytherin, also a First Year. And no, you’re not annoying. Please don’t leave! I don’t mind... Seriously, if you’re getting hung up over this, you should see how awkward I am when the occasion rises...”

Amaya took a deep breath, and began to launch into a reply that hopefully contained as much as possible. “BirdieisareallycoolnicknameandI’msortainterestedinthembutI’mnotexperiencedwiththemandmostlyliketowatchthemflyinfbecauseit’sreallllyyyyycool... and that’s rsally cool! Is it okay if - once he wakes up, if he wakes up - I let him perch on my finger? I meannnnn sorry cuz it’s kinda sorta weird for me to suddenly ask you if I can like touch your bird, because what if I stole it, because I’m kind of a stranger... Yeah see I’m really awkwarddddddd!”

Amaya stopped once more to take another deep breath. Birdie’s more silent nature (Amaya assumed she was very shy) made the talkative side of her suddenly spring out.

“And he’s really purrrddyyyyyyyyyy! Also um I know we’re pretty much strangers and all but would you maybe kindaconsiderbeingmyfrisndmaybeyeahifyoucan’tunderstandthisthenHallelujahcuzIjustrealizedhowcompletelyawkwardthisisyeahnevermind...,” Amaya blushed heavily, ducking her head slightly as if considering whether or not she should hide her face and pretend nothing happened.

She smiled, grateful to whatever god(s) that exists that she didn’t completely botch this up. “Oh, of course I’ll be your friend! You seem wonderful so far. And yes, Ollie here was reincarnated.” She gazed into the honey-colored butterbeer. “He always liked birds....” She murmured, her tone unusually dark and somber. “...Sorry, I’m getting sort of off-topic.” She turned back to Amaya. “Anyway, I have more pet birds at my manor.” She grinned. “I’ve been teaching them to sing. Look!” She gently woke Ollie up and let him perch on Amaya’s finger. She started using her own finger to conduct him. He started chirping a well-known Christmas carol. “It’s much more impressive when the whole choir sings. Ollie was never really one for music anyway.” When he was done singing, she let him take a sip of butterbeer froth and placed him on Amaya’s finger again. “The choir sings Fur Elise quite beautifully.” Warmth emenated from the smile that formed on her face. “In case you haven’t guessed, I adore music. And birds. And bird music is the single greatest thing I’ve ever orchestrated.” Her eyes lit up as an idea formed in her head. “Maybe I could show you sometime this summer! I mean, if you want to. And your parents allow. After all, it’s an unusual request from a near-stranger. But my parents don’t mind me having guests over, so long as I don’t bother them! What do you think?” She beamed. This was the happiest she’d felt in years. Conversation seemed fun when it wasn’t hushed. “...And don’t worry. I’ll be fine if you say no. I could always just bring them here. Although I’d look crazy with that many birds on me...” She drifted off, her awkwardness melting away like a bird in a tub of acid.

Amaya’s face lit up in excitement, doing her best not to coo at Ollie, and clapped in excitement.

“I love music as well! But it’s mostly classical music... and I would love to hear it! It’s strange how easy it is to trust you... I’ll even ask my parents later! I’m sure it’ll be fine, they don’t care much for- they don’t mind. But it would be funny to see your birds perched all over you...”

Amaya grinned again. It seemed to become her now-default expression.

“So, anyways, do you mostly earn songbirds or do you own birds of all kinda? What’s your favorite type of bird? ‘Pet bird’? I personally love budgies, their chirping is somewhat comforting to me...”, Amaya recalled the one time she’d been taken to a pet store fondly. “Anyways, it’ll be fun seeing you and Ollie- that reminds me, are you planning on bring Ollie with you to Hogwarts? Is it allowed?”

Amaya pondered this. She thought about how familiars were allowed, and silently decided that it should be allowed.

She laughed. “I really only own, like, 5 birds. Ollie, Candy, Fin, Katie, and Monkey. Plus my parents’ Owls, Marion and Snowfall. Most of the birds in my care just flock to me! And I love all of them equally. Except for Ollie, obviously. I do love the chirps of the Mistle Thrush. I’ve ‘adopted’ a few of them. They have such strong, unique voices. It’s beautiful. I also like Robins for backup vocals and Song Thrushes for lead vocals. But I take in pretty much every little birdie that stops by for a bit of seed or a bath. I’ve gotten some pretty interesting visitors, like an Aquatic Warbler. Their voices aren’t particularly beautiful, but the fact I actually got to see one is astounding! And my parents, being IMPORTANT PEOPLE,” She mockingly boomed before continuing. “Get quite a few owls, so I take care of them for a bit too. My favorite was a Barn Owl from America named Apple. He was sweet and tried singing along to the choir, although he never really got the hang of it.” She laughed, thinking about the awkward ‘HOO’s that Apple made, trying to be a songbird. “It was amusing to watch him try, though. Anyway, yeah, I’m planning on taking Ollie to Hogwarts. I can’t imagine going anywhere without him!” “I mean, students have owls, so it’ll probably be fine.” She shrugged. “But if they don’t...” A mischievous grin spread onto her face. “I have a plan to keep a bit of my birds with me. I’m going to record a howler of my chorus singing, ask the house-elves to mail it to me on the first day of school, and watch the magic unfold. It’ll be beautiful.” She glanced down at her butterbeer, realizing it was getting cold, and gulped down a good portion of it in an attempt to salvage the drink. “I’ll still do that even if Ollie is allowed in with me, just because.” She sighed and went back to staring into the butterbeer.“I wish I would be allowed to bring all of my birds. I’ll miss them so much. But there are too many. I guess I could ask the house-elves to send them to visit once in a while...” She paused for a moment, lost in thought. “...Aw jeez. Sorry for getting so sad on you. I guess I’m just worried. But it’ll all be fine, so I don’t have to worry.” She went back to a sunny disposition, a total U-turn from her moment of gloom.

Amaya smiled. “It’s fine. And wow, you really do love birds, heh...”

Amaya found herself falling back to a pit of awkwardness, and she sighed. “It’ll be nice hearing it! If Ollie can do that well, then I can’t imagine a entire ‘orchestra’ of birds doing it...”

That was the moment when her parents returned, looking slightly disheveled by straightening and narrowing their eyes once they noticed the girl sitting next to Amaya.

Amaya immediately grew straighter, her face a mask of calm, and suddenly all her movements were more graceful and such.

It was her Mother who approached them first, while her Father hung back with a scowl.

“Hullo,” She smiled, her voice dripping with sweetness, a fake sweetness that tasted terrible.

Then she walked around, leaning closer to Amaya and whispering. “Is she a pure-blood, dear?”

Amaya looked away, and failed to meet Birdie’s gaze. “I don’t know. It’s not exactly what you say when someone from your school walks up to you, Mother.”

The whole strangest of this conversation was not lost on her Father, who’d calmly waltzed up, much more discreet then her Mother. “Hello, I’m Amaya’s Father. Pure-blood. You?”

Amaya winced, wanting so badly to just bang her head on the table or shove her parents and run for it. Because honestly, now they care? And about a stranger?

It was mostly just because they wanted Amaya to have only “pure” company.

Amaya had to keep herself from snarling, and instead, sent a apologetic gaze at Birdie.

She looked up at the adults who had arrived and straightened up and smiled at the group. “Yes, I am a pure-blood. I’m Bernadette Winterwell, daughter of Diana and Barnabus Winterwell. And this is Oliver Winterwell.” She gestured to the songbird perched on Amaya’s finger. He gave a little happy chirp to the newcomers. “How do you do?” She took a sip of her butterbeer, almost finishing it. The faint warmth was an odd feeling in her stomach, but she made sure not to show any outward signs of it. “These people seem... involved. I wonder how Amaya gets anything done with them around?” She noted to herself, looking over the family. “...how does one talk to adults?” She asked herself, hoping that she was doing it right. “I haven’t spoken to an adult in years... they probably think I’m a weirdo... Oh jeez, let my luck stretch a little further.” She prayed internally. She glanced over to Ollie, who had fallen asleep again. He looked like a tiny rubber ball, the kind you’d buy at a muggle ‘arcade’. “At least he’s having fun.” She thought. “I suppose I am too. Just not in this particular moment...” She took another sip of her half-cold butterbeer and finished it.