She was born with a gift of laughter and a sense that the world was mad. The media, after all, must have been crazy to make her feel nervous and out of place. They invaded her privacy often at a young age, at no more than two years old, leaving her unable to remember a time when she and her family weren't hounded by reporters.
She hated it. They were mad to think that she actually enjoyed being photographed wherever they went. Of course, her parents had tried to keep their two children out of the media's sights. It failed every time. But the media never got a photo that wasn't of her joking with her younger brother or of her smiling widely, as if she actually enjoyed being the center of attention. They were fooled easily.
The only good thing that came out of the attention of the media and seclusion of her house was that she was extremely close to her brother and cousins that she visited often. She might be her brother's polar opposite, but they were inseparable. She didn't like cleaning up after his messes or the same Quidditch team he did, but he was the only person who understood how she felt.
Of course, it was her that taught her younger brother the pleasure of flying. Her parents had gone to work early that morning, her mother to the Ministry of Magic and her father to help their Uncle with an Auror mission. Her brother was complaining about being bored on such a cold winter day, which excluded being able to swim as they often times did.
She made him bundle up in some of his warmest winter clothes since snow had formed on the ground and took him to play outside. It was her responsibility to watch out for him, anyways. As soon as they reached outside, she reached down and threw a snowball at her brother. He laughed as he returned the shot. When the snowball fight wasn't enough fun for the both of them, she took her old broom out of the shed. Her parents had brought her a new one for her birthday that had past a few days prior.
Her brother's crystal blue eyes lit up with excitement as he realized what she was doing. He was five, nearly six, but their father didn't have time to teach him how to ride a broom. She turned her warm chocolate brown eyes on her younger brother and smiled brightly. She laid the broom on the ground beside her brother and pulled out her new broomstick before placing it on the ground as well. "Okay, Hugo. Place your right hand over the broom and say, very clearly, 'up'. Like this," she demonstrated.
Hugo did as he was told and the broom flew into his small hands. "Good, now swing your leg over and push off hard," she dictated. He was a fast learner. Soon they were both flying around the air, laughing loudly. The wind was blowing through their hair, freezing them. But they didn't care, they were enjoying themselves.
They flew until their mother returned home, calling them in for dinner. They returned to the house, shivering, but they didn't care. As long as they were smiling, it wasn't a waste of the day.
As she watched her brother that night at dinner, she realized that she didn't want to lose her friendship with her brother when she left for Hogwarts. But she had a few years to think about that, after all, she was only eight.
