She started in your second year. You remember her in that first day of school. You hadn't been through the sorting ceremony enough times to find it boring, so you were looking at each of the students as they were sorted. Back then, she held her chin as high as ever, but she was normal. She wasn't psychotic, but it wasn't only that. Her hair was flat, so was her chest and her cheekbones were not yet her prime feature. Still, she caught your attention. She was a Black, the first of three sisters. Everybody knew which house she was sorted into, at least all the people Rodolphus cared about, anyone who had any idea about the magical world. Even the sorting hat knew it, as it did not hesitate. As soon as it touched her head, it sorted her into Slytherin.
-Eight years later, her younger cousin would be sorted with the same conviction, into Gryffindor, where no Black had ever been before, and she would be furious. She was so wonderful when she was furious.-
She sat down across from you, with no hesitance and a security in her movements you could only smile at. From that day on, she was on your heels, keeping you on your mark and slowly working into your small circle of people you called friends.