Suzanne stared out of the rain-streaked window of the car, quite oblivious to the excited chattering of her older twin sisters. They were wildly anticipating their return to Hogwarts as seventh years, but Suzanne dreaded facing the general population of the school – she was a loner, no one wanted to know her.
Perhaps, if you had been in her shoes, you might have hope of making friends in your 5th year, but Suzanne had given up hope the first day she stepped onto Platform 9 ¾. She had been thrown scornful glances and sneers, while her sisters, already beautiful at the tender age of thirteen, were taken in immediately. During Suzanne's first year, she would cry herself to sleep, but that was then, and this is now; she had grown stronger, she was no longer ashamed of herself.
What she didn't know was, people judged by appearances. When Suzanne was 11, her face was blotchy with pimples, her hair was lank and dull, she reeked off no self-esteem at all. Her parents loved her dearly, but her sisters – those elusive sisters who I have not revealed the names of yet – they were the jewels in the crown.
For all her life, as long as she could remember, she was shunted aside as the pureblood outcast. Mainly because she didn't fit the description of a Blanche. Pale skin, white-blond hair, tall, slim, blue eyes? Only half. Suzanne had grown into a black-haired, vibrantly green-eyed, healthy-skinned, slim and tall teenager. Without a doubt, she was gorgeous. Not that she knew that though. She still thought she was the acne'd awkward adolescence like last year.
Meanwhile, the car had stopped. Suzanne's dad turned around in the driver's seat and pulled the twins and Suzanne into a gruff hug.
"Take care, Clarissa, Marissa, Suzanne. Dad and I will miss you terribly," their mother told them in between kisses. Yes, Clarissa and Marissa were the Poshes. I guess, they weren't really mean, just Posh – but very loyal to their little sister. Strange, sisterly love.
Reader, you will probably ask, why are they spilling their sentiments on the car. It is a pureblood disgrace to appear sentimental in public, and the Blanches are a sentimental bunch, hence the premature sadness.
As Clarissa, Marissa and Suzanne passed through the metal barrier, many students turned to gape at them. Suzanne heard many students whisper to each other," Who's that girl?" Trying hard to stifle her sniggers, she bid goodbye to her sisters, and making her way through the crowded corridors, she finally found a compartment that was empty except for one occupant.
