- Messages
- 542
- OOC First Name
- Claire
- Wand
- Straight 12 1/2 Inch Sturdy Vine Wand with Hippogriff Feather Core
- Age
- 8/2027
There was nothing entertaining to Stella in books or learning. Being from a family in which the most highly commended traits were a pretty face and a willingness to obey under instruction, the fourth year cared little for academic achievement; and so reasonably she detested all forms of studying in existence. But equally it was not in her interest to fail: such was considered almost as criminal as the possession of slightly asymmetrical lips, or eyes that sat scarcely a millimetre beyond what was considered universally attractive. Indeed, failure was not an option - or, rather, it was not an option Stella was willing to entertain. Furthering her desire to at least pass her exams was the simple pleasure she gleaned from acting with purposeful discourtesy towards her father. Rick Lagowski was a wizard, but this was a fact he sought desperately to disguise by any means possible, whether that were by keeping his daughter from the knowledge of her own abilities, or by adamantly refusing to associate himself with any of 'their kind'. The origin of this odd resentment was only speculated, never known, because Rick had never spoken of it. Stella did not care to know, nor any longer desire to follow in his footsteps. He may have been a director, but his unfaithfulness to his family had ensured that whatever shreds of respect his daughter had once had for him were now brutally torn away.
At Hogwarts, Stella felt much like she imagined her father to be feeling. Determined to be expelled, she had shouted, bullied, and disobeyed her way into a number of detentions, and now there remained hardly a student in her year who didn't think her spoiled and unkind. She'd tried apologising, but, as she was learning, there were some acts of misconduct that a bowed head and mumbled 'Sorry' could not undo the effects of. Nobody liked her. Nobody except her cousins. As if she was not reminded of this frequently enough on a day-to-day basis, every table in the library that she approached to sit at was quickly gathered in at, as to make her exclusion from their groups more pointed. After repeating this several more times, she grew so vexated and humiliated that she flung herself and her book down at the table of a younger girl and rubbed furiously at her eyes. She was not crying. They couldn't get to her.
At Hogwarts, Stella felt much like she imagined her father to be feeling. Determined to be expelled, she had shouted, bullied, and disobeyed her way into a number of detentions, and now there remained hardly a student in her year who didn't think her spoiled and unkind. She'd tried apologising, but, as she was learning, there were some acts of misconduct that a bowed head and mumbled 'Sorry' could not undo the effects of. Nobody liked her. Nobody except her cousins. As if she was not reminded of this frequently enough on a day-to-day basis, every table in the library that she approached to sit at was quickly gathered in at, as to make her exclusion from their groups more pointed. After repeating this several more times, she grew so vexated and humiliated that she flung herself and her book down at the table of a younger girl and rubbed furiously at her eyes. She was not crying. They couldn't get to her.