Anastasia was thrilled to finally be getting ready to go to Hogwarts. It was going to be so perfect - she was going to get sorted into Slytherin like all of her family and childhood friends, make the Quidditch team, and learn magic! Well, her mother already had taught her a cleaning charm, but that wasn't exactly as exciting as what she'd get to learn at Hogwarts. She had been walking on air since her letter had come. Yes, her family were Purebloods and she'd already shown signs of magic, but getting that letter made it feel so much more real. She had wanted to run around the house shouting about it and frankly, still did. Not that a passerby would ever guess that in a million years. To a passerby, she just looked like a typical, well bred girl walking into Madam Malkin's with her parents. Her parents wouldn't have tolerated any behavior even remotely close to that. She knew it was for the best, but sometimes she wished they weren't quite so strict. Most of her friends' parents were equally strict, but most of them had siblings, so they didn't have all of the focus on them all of the time. For Anastasia, she had to do and say the perfect thing from the moment she woke up until the moment she went to bed. It was exhausting at times. She sighed and pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind. Her parents would certainly not approve of her thinking like that and she hated to disappoint them, even if there was no way for her parents for her to know what she was thinking. 

One would assume that a pureblood family could simply order robes, but the Fawleys were different. They were probed by Eris's endless torrent of questions and pleads to visit the Wizarding Shopping Centre, and the family had agreed to go. If only to make up for the birthday that Adrian and Luca had forgot. Birthdays came and went, just like leaves whispering in a breeze, but they left an imprint of where they had landed. It was the same with birthdays. They came and went, but one could always remember their birthdays. At least, when they were 11 years old, and hadn't been fully exposed to the world. Birthdays symbolized growing up, and someday becoming an adult, and earning one's own legacy.

Above all else, it was a day to celebrate. Eris's friends had remembered, and a few of them had sent her cards with precious goodies. Adam's quidditch presents thrilled Eris, almost as much as the floating dragons. The house elves had claimed the creatures beastly, and shooed them away, into the most messy areas of Eris's nearly immaculately cleaned room.

The Library was the only part of the room that the house elves simply could not tend to, partly because the young girl had a sense of responsibly regarding her books. They were the one thing that was gloriously Eris's, and for her first few weeks at the Manor, she carried them around with her, like a sacred Torah or Bible. Finally, Demetra Fawley had to pry Eris's hands off the rough leather of the broken down books that her father had somehow remembered Eris reading, in her youth. The weathered old woman had simply to look at Eris, before the girl was reduced to tears, mumbling about assumptions of being kicked out again.

From then on, Eris stopped carrying the books around, but the library in her room was tended to by nobody but Eris, and her miniature dragons weaved between the shelves of the hunking cherry red mound of wood, occasionally snapping at each other or at the artfully weathered wood. It was no concern though, because no matter how tattered the bookshelf and the baby dragons were, they were Eris's, and Eris's alone.

There were not many things that a 12 year old girl could have on her own, in a world that was ruled by parents, and by the clashing thoughts of pure blood society and the thoughts of childhood. The one thing that Eris had, and she was determined to keep it. The bookshelf was dirty, as Demetra Fawley yanked Eris out of her room, chatting all the way.

I'm sorry I missed your birthday, and I'm even more sorry those rascals forgot." The old woman cooed, yanking on the melancholy blue strands of Eris's hair with a stern face, but a bitter smile tugging at the ends of her lips.

Demetra showed no signs of the fatigue that should of been plaguing her, after just arriving back from America days before. Eris's grandmother was the one good thing about life in the Fawley Manor, and the one reason Eris believed that family couldn't truly be that horrible. When Demetra learned that Eris's father had panicked, and locked himself in his room, instead of celebrating, while Adrian went out to meet with another pureblood family.

One of the only reasons the small family of four was traveling to the robe store today, Madam Malkins, happened to be that the same pureblood family that Adrian had conversed with. They had a daughter around Eris's age, starting off at Hogwarts. Their family had not been invited to the Fawley Gala, but they were important enough for Eris's grandfather to invite Eris, her grandmother, and himself along to gather robes with them.

Luca had stayed home, still wailing in his room. When Eris and her grandmother had stepped down to the roaring fireplace, Eris's favorite house elf appeared next to them with a crack, and a pathetic smile. Nym was a small house elf, even for her kind, with long drooping ears, that Eris had tied bows to. Although her grandfather had grimaced at the bows on the house elf's ears, Eris had loved it, and her grandmother had forced the man to keep the bows on. They weren't actual clothing, Demetra reminded. She was ever the force of reason, in the family that was far from reasonable.

"Nym is sorry, misses. Nym is a very bad elf, very very bad. Master Luca will not leave his room, he has fallen into the same stupor as before. Nym is sorry, she is bad, BAD, BAD!" The house elf began to howl, banging her head on the fire place. For all her love of the elf, Eris did nothing, and Demetra, who was the most kind of the Fawleys, took a moment, before waving her hand.

I order you to stop, and go upstairs and care for Luca, while we are gone." Eris recoiled in shock, staring at her heavenly grandmother with an expression of awe. She had always assumed that being kind was something her grandmother did well, even to the house elves. The woman saw her expression and clicked her tongue, a guilty expression crossing over her face. She might not have shown true empathy towards the elf's suffering, and painful expression of chagrin on her face, but Demetra knew it wasn't right, try as society might to convince her otherwise.

Shall we go?""
Demetra stepped forward, clasping the girl's hand with her own. We shall meet your grandfather there." She smiled, in an attempt to regain normality, as Eris nodded her head mutely. Without another word, Demetra grabbed her granddaughter by the eblow.

Before they could step into the fire, a wistful expression of youth crossed over Demetra's features, and they were compressed in darkness, and everything hurt. Eris felt nausea, as the sensation cleared, leaving the two of them in front of the robe shop. Adrian was running late, Eris noticed, between bouts of dizzying nausea, while her grandmother laughed.

"It's called apperation, darling girl. You'll be learning how to do it when you're older."
"I don't think I ever will. It's annoying, and hurts!" Eris commented, swinging open the door to the shop, with a ring of the tinkling bells.

"And be the only wizard not to know how to? You're special, darling, but not in a horrible way! You should know how to apparate, just as you should make friends with that girl. You do need more friends, Eris. There are never enough people to have at your side, and according to your far fetched stories, you have more than enough enemies."'

Laughing, the older woman shook her head with the energy of a woman years younger, prodding Eris towards the other girl getting her robes. "Grandmaaaa, what if I don't like her?" Eris groaned loudly, staring at the girl, who looked a bit snobbish.

"Then you come back over here, of course, and we ditch your grandfather before he comes, and go get some ice cream."

Motivated by the idea of ice cream, Eris trotted across the room to get her own robes, standing next to the other child in the near deserted shop. "Are you going to Hogwarts, as well?" Eris asked, plastering a smile onto her face, even if she was tempted to roll her eyes and run away, to do something better.

She only had to last long enough to gain ice cream.

Anastasia bit her bottom lip as the door closed behind them and her parents began to speak with the shop clerk. She tried to remember everything that her parents had told her about the Pureblood family they were meeting there. According to her parents, the family was a fairly important and highly respected one. Her father said that their families had been friends before the Second Wizarding world when his parents had been confirmed Death Eaters. Even though a good portion of the Pureblood families had had a death eater in the family, it had been something of a scandal and had resulted the young Beckett twin brothers  having to keep a low profile for a few years. Her father and uncle strongly believed the same things that their parents had, but were less vocal about it than they really would have liked, and had been accepted back into the Pureblood society like nothing had ever really happened. 

However, her father being her father, he couldn't be satisfied with just letting things be. He wanted to insure that she would have as many approved, Pureblood friends as possible before she went to Hogwarts to try to prevent her having to associate with too many inferior blooded first yeras. She loved her father dearly, but even she had to admit that he was a bit controlling. She hoped this girl would be alright, but she had met far too many like her cousin Lydia who were perfectly happy to have a life like her mother's - date a nice Pureblood boy during school, graduate, have a decently successful but not too successful career, drop everything whenever said Pureblood boy wished, get married, and have more Pureblooded children. Even from a young age, Anastasia had never wanted that. She'd said that to her mother once when she was seven, which had earned her a horrid scolding and a threat to tell her father about it. Needless to say, she had learned not to mention that to either of her ever again. One would think that would have quashed that idea, but if anything, it had made her more certain about it. She bit her lip. She certainly couldn't talk like that around the Fawley girl. 

Her mother and father motioned her other to come see the robes that they were purchasing. She knew that the supply list had specified three plain black robes, but that hadn't stopped her parents from getting her a new set of dress robes, although she wasn't entirely clear on why her parents were sending them to Hogwarts since she likely wouldn't even use them until when she was home for the holidays. But she did what she always did which was exactly what her parents told her too. She couldn't wait to have a tad more freedom when she got to school. Although, with the way her parents were planning everything from her house to her friends, she wasn't sure exactly how free she would be at school. Still, anything had to be better than being the only focus of her well meaning but very strict parents. 

Her head swiveled when she heard the little door bell tinkle and she saw a older, sophisticated woman enter with a girl who looked about her age. Her mother gave her a little push and she made her way towards the other girl while the adults spoke. 

"Are you going to Hogwarts, as well?" Eris asked.

"I'll be starting my first year," Anastasia told the other girl, mentally trying to figure this girl out. Based on her boy language and demeanor, she could tell the other girl wasn't exactly thrilled by the idea of an arranged friendship either. Maybe she'd be a little better than Anastasia had originally given her credit for. 

Eris lazily dragged her feet across the expanse of wood on the floor, ignoring the girl's words for a moment, imagining a moment prior. It seemed like years before when she had first stepped into the store, a scared child clutching onto a list of supplies with sweaty hands. Eris had been too stubborn to accept the help of the wizard who had taken her to the school, even though the man had been friendly enough. Strange, but nice. The two had agreed to meet back up at the Leaky Cauldron, after Eris had finished her shopping.

That day had been crazy, loud, and full of evident surprises. The air in Diagon Alley was hot, thrumming with magic and people, which Eris was not used to. She may have cowered, hiding from the secret society of wizards, and partly the idea of a crowd, so unlike the group of three that lived in Eris's home, accompanied by the rare group of strangers, come to visit Eris's mother for nefarious reasons.

The day, while scary, had gone swimmingly. After a few hours of wandering around on her own, Eris had found her way to the very spot she now stood in, and had met her best friend in the whole world. A grin brought forth it's way to Eris's face, at the mere thought of her best friend, currently vacationing in Paris, as he had been for a couple of days after Eris's failed disaster of a 12th birthday.

The varnished floors looked the same as they had last year, and the woman studying the young girls from behind her desk looked the same, perhaps just a little more small and wrinkled than Eris remembered. Or maybe Eris had grown, and the shop had stayed the same. It was no longer a place to idolize and one of the rare places that had shown Eris's first views of magic.

Still, Eris had a fond spot for the place, and couldn't bring herself to glower at the other child in the shop. Purebloods could be good friends, proved by Max, Rhea, Dorian, Serena, Phaedra, and the whole rest of Eris's friend groups. Not all of them were the pompous prats that Eris had to accustom herself to at the balls and galas hosted at the Fawley Manor.

Choking down bitter comments and rude gestures, Eris molded her facial expression into one of serene calm, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips, which so desperately wanted to curve downwards into a frown, or a scowl. Instead a forced smile made it's way to Eris's pensive face, as she forced her eyes to stop wandering around the shop, and let them make their way back up to the girl's face.

A first year! She looked even taller than Eris, which wasn't much of a surprise considering Eris's small stature. The rumors of Eris being a gnome had started to reach the ears of the young girl, and her friends, who teased her to no avail. It was equally horrifying to consider that she would shorter than some of the first years, but Eris pushed it aside. She would grow taller! Someday.

"What house are you going into, I know the sorting hat lets you pick, most of the time. I told the hat I didn't want Slytherin, so it put me in Gryffindor. My granddad says all good purebloods go into Slytherin, but I think that's a load of rubbish. All my pureblood friends are in Gryffindor, besides for Serena and Phaedra. Besides, my mum was in Slytherin, and we all know how she turned out."

At least, Eris hoped the other girl knew the legend of Jane Rowle. It would be strange if she didn't, but who was Eris to judge? Eris had never been a girl with a cultured up-keeping and her grandfather's lessons had not imprinted on Eris's brain. She could hardly call herself a pureblood, and wasn't one in mannerisms, only in name.

Anastasia raised an eyebrow at the mention of the girl's mother. Everyone knew the story of Jane Rowle, but most of the Purebloods didn't much like to talk about it. She knew her mother certainly didn't although she really hadn't the faintest idea as to why. She knew that her mother had been in school around the same time, and both of them had been in Slytherin, so maybe they'd known each other. She'd asked her mother about it several times when she was younger, each one resulting in a more severe scolding than the last, so she'd learnt to leave it alone. 

She kept listening to the girl, even as she thought about the ice cream she'd begged her mother for practically all day. They had finished most of their shopping, and the only thing they had to do after this was to buy her wand, and she thought, at least so far, she'd behaved well enough to warrant ice cream. She was relatively mature for her age, but she was eleven after all, and as such, had a wicked sweet tooth. Focus, Mother and Father want you to be friends with this girl, so you at least need to try, she told herself. 

Focusing back in on the girl, she remembered the girl had asked a question and was waiting for a response.  She hoped the other girl wouldn't notice the slight delay before her rather stiff, cookie cutter response. "Well, my entire family has been in Slytherin since pretty much forever, so that would be nice. Ravenclaw would be alright as well," she said, her voice even. A part of her rather envied this girl - since she hadn't really grown up in the magical world with all of its biases and opinions, she said things that Anastasia would get in quite a bit of trouble for saying, and it didn't even occur to her not to. Anastasia had strong opinions about most anything, but her mother had always said that voicing them would be quite improper and most undignified. 

It did no use to think like that. No matter how much the more rebellious side of her tried, she wouldn't have a life much different than her mother's. Although she knew she wanted more than that, she also knew there was no way for her to get that without disappointing her parents. Her favorite cousin, Amelia, had been disowned a few years ago after an argument with her parents. She had been sorted into Hufflepuff, which was strike one in Anastasia's aunt and uncle eyes anyway, but she made friends with all sorts of Muggleborns and Muggle lovers, which was the second strike in her parents' eyes.  But the thing that had gotten her disowned was a screaming argument during the summer holidays before her fourth year - it had been when Anastasia's family was over visiting, and one of the things that Anastasia had heard was Amelia screaming "Maybe I don't want your life, Mother. Why? Because it's bloody pathetic!" Anastasia had admired her actions at the time, but then Amelia was burned out of the family tree and Anastasia hadn't seen her since. As much as she agreed with those words, she didn't want to lose her parents. 

"What's Gryffindor like?" she asked curiously. Her family always said that if they had a child sorted into Gryffindor, they'd either pull the child out of school, or just flat out disown them. Anastasia was the last Beckett to be sorted out of her and her first cousins, and all of them, expect for Amelia obviously, had been Slytherins. She knew there was no way she'd be anything but a Slytherin, so she figured it really wouldn't hurt to ask what it was like in Gryffindor, especially if her parents would never know about it. 

Eris’s eyes almost gazed over, as she pondered just how bored she really was. The matters of blood purity and what houses your family wanted to you to be in had never bothered Eris, especially as she had grown up in a household that had been different from the norm of pureblood families. This girl, clearly, had grown up differently than Eris. The other girl was like a robot from one of Eris’s comics, repeating herself over and over again in the same dull voice. Like every other pureblood, she wanted to be in Slytherin or Ravenclaw. There was no thought put into the better houses or the worse houses. Eris, for one, knew that Gryffindor was the best house in the school and that Hufflepuff was the worst, besides for Reid, Serena, and Rosie, who seemed to be nice, the whole house was horrible. Max Avery had said that, and Eris was hard pressed to believe most things that her older friend believed. It was only proper, and it also was how Eris was hardwired. She had a knack for clinging onto people, trying to make up for the months she had nothing.

Slytherin was a bad house. Eris’s mother had been in Slytherin, and that was good enough for Eris never to want to venture into the green painted common room, or face down the fearsome head of house with her scar and strange behavior towards red headed girls, such as Rhea Bishop and Eris Fawley, the best of the best. Who had been forced to deal with stinking detention. No, Eris would not like to be a member of the Slytherin house. Sure, her whole family had been in the house (besides for Adrian’s brother, Adeion, but he was not mentioned by anyone besides Demetra, who made a yearly trip to visit him, even going as far as claiming him as her own brother.) Sighing, Eris climbed up the stool to get her robes fitted for the new year, still listening to the other girl talk, as her arms and legs were probed by the seamstress's wand, floating in midair, as the woman gathered up the materials to make the two girl’s robes.

Last year, her robes had been too large. It had either been robes that were too large or children’s robes, and Eris had wanted to get out of the store as soon as possible, so she could feel like she was part of a group with Adam and Ava. It was easy to guess which option she had chosen, especially when one found Eris in the hallways, oversized black fabric flapping as she waved her arms. She hadn’t seen Ava since the disaster on the Hogwarts Express, but often wondered about the other girl. Eris’s grand delusions about being part of a group had payed off, to tell the truth. Adam had became her best friend and Ava had become a trusted acquaintance, until the Slytherin Post had sent Eris an owl asking her opinions on the Gryffindor Quidditch team and their odds against Ravenclaw. Eris may have gotten a tad bit agressive in her reply to Avalon, and had never received an owl back, but that game was canceled anyways, so the pint sized chaser truly hadn’t a reason to be so aggressive.

Oh well, that was Eris for you. There was never a dull moment with prepubescent girls with extremely violent personalities. Eris had been zoned out for a few minutes straight, until she was asked what it was like in Gryffindor. Eris had never considered herself an old person, but being 12 allowed for her to get wisty eyed, didn’t it? What was Gryffindor like?

It was like fire burning in the common room late at night, while children stayed up to play wizard chess and throw pillows. It was like sneaking out to gain immortality. It was like punching ravenclaws and kicking hufflepuffs with your best friends. It was playing tickling charm tag and making someone piss his pants after getting him with a good tickling charm. How could she say that out loud? Gryffindor was a torrent of colors, of people, of emotions, of Eris. It was flying on a broom, casting a spell, doing something brave. It was Eris’s home away from home.

Her bed in the Lily Potter dorm, her best friends, the only life she had felt accepted in before the Fawley Manor. To tell the truth, Eris felt more herself in the red bed of the utmost tower than when she was snuggled into the downy feathered mattress of the Fawley Manor. So she smiled, lips parting into a wistful smile that one her age truly shouldn’t of had. She looked a lot older, if one paid little heed to the fact she was short, with hair sparkling with red and blue strands. (She hadn’t quite learned how to control the Metamorphmagus ability, and not when she was pleased or looking back on happy moments.)

Eris opened and closed her mouth, not sure how to express the loveliness of her house to a snobby pureblood, but couldn’t help but answering the question. “Gryffindor is like..a lion's den. Which is ironic, considering the Gryffindor lion, but seriously. We’re like a pack. We have our fights and differences, but in the end, you know that everyone in your house has your back. It’s about being daring and taking risks, but knowing there’s a difference between recklessness and bravery, apparently. I don’t know if you get what I’m saying, but yeah. It’s nice. I really like my house.”

She hoped that had been a fine response, but truthfully, Eris cared little for what the other girl would think.

Anastasia could tell from the girl's body language and responses that she was boring the girl, which disappointed her since her parents had told her that it would be good for her and Eris to be friends. She really did want friends who weren't exactly like her, and her mother and pretty much every Pureblood girl she knew. She knew she was young, but her mother's life sounded just depressing at times. She had played Quidditch all of the years she had been at Hogwarts, and had been solicited by several major Quidditch teams. She could have done so much more than she ended up doing - leaving after a few years to get married and raise a family. Not that Anastasia had anything against marriage, she just didn't see why she couldn't do both. She had once began to express this to her mother just after her fifth birthday, asking why she couldn't have kept playing Quidditch and been a mommy. Her mother had been extremely offended, and her father had scolded her harshly that evening. 

It made Anastasia a bit sad when she thought of the lengths she went to trying to make her parents proud of her, and even more so whenever she thought about the fact that nothing actually worked. Her parents weren't affectionate people and she couldn't even remember the last time either of her parents had told her they loved her. She knew there were kids who didn't even have parents, so she really shouldn't complain. Still, it would be nice to feel like she was more than her parents little show dog every once in a while. 

Anastasia glanced at the girl when she asked what Gyffindor was like. The look that call across Eris' face reminded her of what her ballet teacher looked like when she started to talk about dance. Anastasia hoped that she would find something that made her that happy when she was just thinking about it. She loved dance, but not the way her teacher did. She loved flying and playing Quidditch like that, but her mother really didn't approve of that, which Anastasia found a bit ironic. All she wanted in life was to play Quidditch, and while her mother didn't actively prevent her from playing, since it was a Wizarding sport and was preferable to Ana picking up some other Muggle sport, she made it clear that she thought a Beckett girl playing a sport that was as insane as Quidditch was most improper.  That was the once instance in which her parents' disapproval didn't make her completely abandon whatever it was she wanted. 

As Eris described it, a small part of her wondered what would happen if she got sorted into Gryffindor. If it really was as amazing as Eris said it was, then maybe it would be worth her parents disappointment. No, nothing was worth that. She knew that her parents would absolutely disown her if they thought that she wasn't a credit to the family, she'd seen evidence of that with her cousin. 

“That’s really great that you love your house so much,”  Anastasia told the other girl, a bit of her longing slipping into her voice. She hoped that Eris wouldn't notice. She knew that her parents wanted her to be Slytherin, so that's what she wanted, right? But she couldn't imagine ever talking about it with the real love that Eris talked about Gryffindor with. Her parents, and all of their friends who had been in Slytherin talked about their house with pride, but none like that. It discouraged her to think that she would be the same in a few years, especially since everyone agreed that their Hogwarts years really formed their lives. She knew that some people would think that she was a complete carbon copy of her mother, the "perfect" Pureblood daughter, but her parents certainly didn't think so. She found that ironic - some people might not like her because she did what her parents told her to too much, but she didn't do it enough for her parents. 

She bit her lip as she imagined herself in Gryffindor a little bit more. It didn't hurt anything since she knew it would never actually happen. If by some freak mistake she didn't get placed in Slytherin, she'd probably end up in Ravenclaw, although she really didn't think that would fit her. She didn't think she was nice enough for Hufflepuff, and she didn't consider herself brave enough for Gryffindor. Still, imagining never hurt anyone, right?