✧･ﾟ: Iris Marlowe ✧･ﾟ: 1st-year Griffindor

She was raised in a very strict house. She felt almost like her house remembered her and everything that she did.

The whole house was dark everything from the paintings to the wood around her. Though the paintings, which were of her ancestors didn't speak very much, rarely actually, when they did utter any words the words were mean, one could even say cruel. Ancestors who spoke through these paintings whispered of standards, of mistakes that had been made through generations, of warnings never to make the same ones or face unbelievable shame and loss of dignity. She learned young that the past was not behind her. It was always watching, and waiting for her to make a mistake.

Her family was pure-blood and deeply traditional, they believed that pure blood was the only way to go. Family, Loyalty, Ambition were treated like something sacred, heavy, and dangerous. She was not raised to be loved so much as shaped into something. Shaped into the witch that her family desired not of her own making.

Magic was an early occurrence for her.She was taught discipline and that's the only way she was taught, the only thing that she truly learned growing up. She learned how to hold herself and how to hide, how to fit in.

Despite this, she was not cruel. She understood how easily people could be broken not because she wanted to break them, but because she had spent her life learning how not to be broken. She doesn't her life hiding. When she was kind it was like she was muttering a forbidden secret not like she actually meant it.

Awaiting her letter the house was beyond tense. They were all already expecting her to be accepted. As soon as it did arrive she knew that she would never be free from her past, from the cruelty and abuse, that she never truly would be.

When she was around 4 had slipped out of bed before anyone else. Her intentions were unclear, other than thinking that perhaps she should wander for a bit, suddenly feeling as though she's unable to sleep due to the constant feeling of the house always watching her. On the rug near the window, her black kitten was laying there as a candle was lit in the corner of the room. She was going to approach her kitten to pet him but didn't get a chance.

Then it happened before she could do anything...the kitten’s paws lifted off the floor. Before she knew it the cat was hovering a few inches off the ground. It blinked at her, calm and curious, and stayed in the air just for a moment before falling again.

Her heart was beating so fast in her chest she thought it would burst out. She wondered if anyone had seen, but she didn't see anyone around... luckily. She stroked its fur, in an attempt to calm herself at the stange occurrence. The kitten purred, unbothered by the sudden flight it had just endured. This was her secret and no one else would hopefully know. She felt terrible.