Prologue: Doll House

The grass grew in tussocks and flattened in waves with each gust of wind, only to spring up as fresh as a bunch of flowers right after. It was nothing like the uniform green of the meadow near the front of the manor that almost looked combed. Each tuft was wild and slightly yellowing under the sun and between each there was bare soil, baked and powdery, but the children didn't mind, the circle was and would always be their little secret place.

They were both well aware that their mini garden was anything but a secret, but often overlooked that thought as well as the origin of their hangout space.

When the Black-Mcmillian children were younger, they had a tendency to 'play dirty' as their parents would put it. They would tear through the house bumping into furniture and breaking precious show-pieces. When Orion broke a unique vase from China, their mother put down her foot and sought out a place for them to play undisturbed. It took her a few days, but she finally found the modest patch of grass surrounded by various trees and merely blasted off a few of the trees in order to expand the space while also keeping it secluded.

At first, their access to the circle was restricted to an hour a day, and certain rules were kept in place. They were to keep their horseplay specifically inside the circle, none of their friends were allowed into the area, and finally, they had to be accompanied by a house-elf at all times.

But Cordelia didn't mind, she was content with their space and would engage in all sorts of weird antics there. Including now, when she ran ahead of her brother, darting all around the sacred circle, performing several gymnastic stunts. The young pureblood witch was dressed in an elegant baby blue two-piece, with her dark brown hair left down in its natural curls. Her strikingly blue eyes were filled with mischief as she did yet another cartwheel.

Orion let out a snicker, the first thing he had produced that was close to a real laugh that day. Her weird antics and wary attitude made her seem like the younger sibling rather than him. She was skipping around like a monkey, stopping to make the occasional corny joke or engage in a conversation with her younger brother.

He, on the other hand, had found a comfortable spot under one of the many trees surrounding their large, secluded, circle of grass. His short, willowy strands of hair were neatly combed out of his face as his blue-grey eyes focused onto the book in his possession. The book (one far too long for a nine-year-old) was propped open on top of his right knee, his palm skimming through the pages to find the bookmark Cordelia had gifted him.

"Do you have to read? Why can't you just enjoy the secret garden?"

"What's there to enjoy in a terrain of grass, sister?" He didn't even bother looking up as he instantaneously spoke and read a new passage.

"Fine then-" she huffed before settling down before him "-you can watch me instead."

He glanced up at her with a smile, his right eyebrow slightly raised. "You want me to watch you watching me read?"

She giggled at the absurdity of his question and got up once again. "Nope. I want you to watch my gymnastics!"

He groaned before settling his book down and looking at her expectantly, a pink blush colouring the girl's cheeks when she realized he was evidently waiting. The eleven-year-old mimicked the muggle teenager they had seen while entering the Leaky Cauldron the other day to the best of her abilities. She did splits and flips of different kinds while carrying a conversation with her only friend (and sibling) at the humble Black Estate.

Their parents hadn't liked the exuding amount of muggles present while they went into the Leaky Cauldron, but Cordelia didn't care of their opinion and had glanced at the girl long enough to watch how she did her various stunts. Sadly, multi-tasking had never been one of Lia's expertise, which is why it was no surprise when she tripped over the hem of her baby blue skirt, successfully scratching her arm against a tree branch in the process.

He would be lying if Orion said he didn't laugh at her, his book dropping to the floor as he snickered.

"Come here you little rat!"

She exclaimed, chasing her brother back across the (far too big) gardens and into their house. Their antics had caused quite the commotion, drawing the attention of a blonde woman adorned in a set of navy blue robes.

"Now, now, you wouldn't want to disturb your father from his meeting."

The two brunette children glanced up at their mother with guilty smiles strewn across their faces, choosing to settle down beside her on the black leather couch and retell their little squabble.

Melania Black was a woman of few words, one who carried herself with the grace of a swan. But one shouldn't be fooled by her exterior, for she could conjure up curses and speak words that would affect people more than their Boggart would. Her blonde strands fell across her shoulders as those deadly blue eyes examined her daughter's arm.

She clutched her wound and focused on the trail of blood going past her elbow, slowly but surely making the wound close up. The girl, hesitant due to the dirty state of her clothes and her mother's knack for cleanliness, opened and closed her mouth once before finally vocalizing her thoughts.

"I've been practicing, mother, and I can do controlled magic like you too! Wanna see?"

Now this drew her attention. Cordelia had her first burst of magic when she was three, which was extraordinarily fast, but children weren't supposed to control their magic without a wand.

Young Lia grabbed a flower bud from the dandelions placed in a vase a little ways away from the couch before returning and sitting in front of her expectant mother and brother. She clutched the bud in her hand and focused on not only growing it but also changing it into a different flower. There, after nearly a minute, was a fully grown Marigold flower in her palm.

This excited Melania. The prospect of Lia having such a powerful hold on her magic was absolutely brilliant.

Lia got up to retrieve more dandelions from the cluster of flowers on the other side of the couch, feeding on her mother's attention. Before she had traversed even halfway through the room, she noticed a figure clad in a set of black robes approaching them. Arcturus Black, a man close to a doppelganger of Orion save for his deep grey eyes, was a towering man with an ego even greater than his height, which was perhaps why he subtly disliked his firstborn, or more specifically, her gender.

"Cordelia." He exclaimed, stopping in front of his family. "You have received a letter from both Beauxbaton as well as Hogwarts, we have yet to decide which one you will attend but a ball will certainly be held in celebration of your acceptance. You are to pick out an outfit for her my dearest."

The last line was directed at his wife as he sat down on the second couch beside his son. As usual, he was quick to engage in conversation with Orion after that declaration, only talking to Cordelia as much as necessary. Their mother noticed and engaged in conversation with her daughter, asking her to conjure more types of flowers.

Cordelia was no fool, at the age of eleven she was smarter than most and knew why her father treated her the way he did. Most would think it was because of her gender, but that was just the tip of the ice burg. No, the real reason was something deeper and darker, something she had sworn to never reveal. Regardless of her thirst to tell someone and gauge their reaction, she refused to act upon it. After all, that was the responsibilities of a pureblood witch.

When she was younger, she would tend to imagine herself living in a dollhouse as one of her favourite toys. Living a life that was perfect and happy, that didn't involve her parents screeching at each other when she was two. One that didn't involve her father ignoring her for the better part of her childhood, one that didn't taint their circle with the real reason of its creation: so that the children could get away when he had his episodes.

It had gotten better over the years, whether it was his façade or the diminishing embers of hate, she wasn't sure. Yet she subconsciously caught herself wishing, more than ever, that her going to school would change these things for the better, that her father would somehow learn to forget the past.