For Kiri
Kiri's Introduction:
For Kiri:
With three years under her belt, Olivia Weasley, a thirteen-year-old Hogwarts student with high hopes of having a decent school year, proudly strode through the busy corridors of Hogwarts. It was the second day of classes, and she was still having the time of her life watching the first years run around nervously looking for classes - yet, at the same time, offering as much assistance to those that were lost. Well, as much assistance as she could give, of course.
Now, surely the name Weasley sparks a few notions - but do not be fooled. She’s not a fiery redheaded, mischievous, obnoxious student, despite her father’s legacy. The well-known, increasingly infamous Fred Weasley was the birth father of this bright, well-mannered child. A surprise to many, Olivia is one of the few children in her family to not be in either constant trouble, or constant deadly events.
The one dark side of Olivia is her doom and gloom hatred for whomever her mother may or may not be. The woman, whose name her father still was not willing to disclose to her, had left after giving birth without a word. She was never fond of when her father would get into funks about where the woman could be, and could vividly remember a few times in which the case of trying to find the woman was all he could think of to do. But Olivia stopped him - if the woman didn’t want to be in their life, she didn’t deserve to be.
Olivia contemplated the thought of whether or not her mother had wandered the halls she was wandering on her way back to her tower to meet up with a few of her friends. Quickly, she snapped her head from side to side and disregarded the now fleeting thought and took the steps to the Lady in the portrait guarding her common room two at a time. She was actually going to be late.
After muttering whatever the password was, the blonde, petite female sidled into the common room to find that none of her friends had arrived yet. Just to make sure she didn’t miss them when they entered, she curled up onto the corner of one of the couches and pulled out a small book of mischief her father had given her and skimmed it, mildly wondering if any of the tricks in the book were worth practicing on anyone. A few caused her to laugh, to gape, and others caused her roll her eyes - such mediocrity, really.
Once ten minutes had passed, Olivia surmised that her friends simply must have left already, and as such, the girl tucked the book back into her pocket and then made her way to the library after wishing the portrait a good day with a smile and a wiggle of her fingers. As soon as she looked out a window she was passing, she completely forgot her trip to the library and began to wonder if it would be worth going outside just to shift form.
Being an animangus had its ups and downs, but it was enjoyable to say the least. It was a freedom she couldn’t express - the freedom to change and to be oneself in something completely unrecognizable. She was comfortable in her fox skin, to tell the truth. But now wasn’t the time, she reminded herself - albeit the rain would feel good - that she needed to be in the library. So with a sad last glance to the outside, she stepped away from the window and continued on her way.
For Kiri:
With three years under her belt, Olivia Weasley, a thirteen-year-old Hogwarts student with high hopes of having a decent school year, proudly strode through the busy corridors of Hogwarts. It was the second day of classes, and she was still having the time of her life watching the first years run around nervously looking for classes - yet, at the same time, offering as much assistance to those that were lost. Well, as much assistance as she could give, of course.
Now, surely the name Weasley sparks a few notions - but do not be fooled. She’s not a fiery redheaded, mischievous, obnoxious student, despite her father’s legacy. The well-known, increasingly infamous Fred Weasley was the birth father of this bright, well-mannered child. A surprise to many, Olivia is one of the few children in her family to not be in either constant trouble, or constant deadly events.
The one dark side of Olivia is her doom and gloom hatred for whomever her mother may or may not be. The woman, whose name her father still was not willing to disclose to her, had left after giving birth without a word. She was never fond of when her father would get into funks about where the woman could be, and could vividly remember a few times in which the case of trying to find the woman was all he could think of to do. But Olivia stopped him - if the woman didn’t want to be in their life, she didn’t deserve to be.
Olivia contemplated the thought of whether or not her mother had wandered the halls she was wandering on her way back to her tower to meet up with a few of her friends. Quickly, she snapped her head from side to side and disregarded the now fleeting thought and took the steps to the Lady in the portrait guarding her common room two at a time. She was actually going to be late.
After muttering whatever the password was, the blonde, petite female sidled into the common room to find that none of her friends had arrived yet. Just to make sure she didn’t miss them when they entered, she curled up onto the corner of one of the couches and pulled out a small book of mischief her father had given her and skimmed it, mildly wondering if any of the tricks in the book were worth practicing on anyone. A few caused her to laugh, to gape, and others caused her roll her eyes - such mediocrity, really.
Once ten minutes had passed, Olivia surmised that her friends simply must have left already, and as such, the girl tucked the book back into her pocket and then made her way to the library after wishing the portrait a good day with a smile and a wiggle of her fingers. As soon as she looked out a window she was passing, she completely forgot her trip to the library and began to wonder if it would be worth going outside just to shift form.
Being an animangus had its ups and downs, but it was enjoyable to say the least. It was a freedom she couldn’t express - the freedom to change and to be oneself in something completely unrecognizable. She was comfortable in her fox skin, to tell the truth. But now wasn’t the time, she reminded herself - albeit the rain would feel good - that she needed to be in the library. So with a sad last glance to the outside, she stepped away from the window and continued on her way.