As a note, I write Wizarding culture as not being homophobic or transphobic. Their cultural issues come from blood purity. Even though there isn't that prejudice, I write Wizarding LGBT+ people as more of a minority, so Hestia doesn't have a lot of "examples" or "info," per se, to go off of as she discovers herself.

Song rec: "Medusa" by Kailee Morgue

August - September, 1992

That August, Alecto taught Hestia and Flora the importance of their physical appearance.

"My mother beat it into me that I was hideous," she said distantly. "Now you girls lucked out not lookin' like your dad. But them other girls is gonna have doe-eyes and thick lips we just don't have. That's what make-up's for."

Alecto set up the girls' vanity with a large quantity of beauty products in little crystal containers. Hestia grabbed a tube of a mystery paste and scrutinised it.

"There's beauty charms and such, but they don't last all day, and I hate the feeling of pointing a wand at my face. So you gotta learn how to apply make-up," Alecto said.

It took about a week, a few crumbled swatches of eye shadow, and lots of yelling, but by the end Hestia and Flora had learnt the basics of decorating their eleven-year-old faces. Every morning, Hestia overlined her lips to make them look bigger and blinked the dryness out of her mascara-lidded eyes. She didn't have anywhere to go yet. She wasn't allowed anywhere. But this was the one thing Alecto acknowledged her being half-decent at. Flora tried a frosted lip one day, to which Alecto said, "That washes you out." She turned to Hestia, who had mastered the rosy cheek-slash-dark lip look and said, "That's your shade."

"It's like painting," Hestia said one morning as she and Flora elbowed each other in the mirror. "You have to blend the colour."

Flora gave her a grumpy look; her powder foundation was speckled asymmetrically across her face. The girls practised applying makeup to each other sometimes, especially when it came to making eyeliner match on both sides. Hestia was good at sitting still and trusting Flora's work, but Flora grimaced over her face being handled. More than once, a streak of eyeliner went all the way out to her ear.

"You look cute!" Hestia said on the day Flora had finally mastered some techniques.

Flora looked quite disgruntled at her success.

"I mean, you're cute anyway!" Hestia laughed.

Flora grew even more displeased.

"We're identical, you bludger."

"Oh, fine, be that way," sighed Hestia.

Hestia didn't mind the idea that she had to look good, because now she felt like she did. It gave her confidence for her upcoming trip to school. She had never had friends before, only Flora. She had never even had acquaintances. Nobody ever came to the house, and they never went to anyone else's. When the family went to Diagon Alley, she would watch other people recognise one another and meet up, saying things like, "How've you been?" and "Good to see you!" Nobody ever came up to their family with those words. Hestia could understand that; she probably wouldn't, either.

Amycus and Alecto had made it clear that they disliked Hogwarts. They sang praises for Durmstrang, the school they had been at for four years. Naturally, that only made Hestia more excited for Hogwarts. Anything those two disliked often ended up being something she did like.

Two days before the girls would board the train, Amycus and Alecto called them into the parlour no one was allowed to use but them. Amycus swiped his wand across two seats, lifting the white covers into the air and folding them neatly. He set them atop a still-covered footstool and motioned for his nieces to do what normal people would term "make yourself at home."

Hestia's socks were delighted by the plush carpet. It was definitely a carpet that was rarely trampled upon. Above the hearth was a large portrait of her bob-haired, mahogany-lipped great-grandmother in a gold frame, with an important placard reading, "Tisiphone Carrow." Amycus and Alecto worshipped their grandmother as much as they hated their parents. Hestia had no substantial opinion about any of these dead people. The only family she knew were the only Carrows left.

Hestia relaxed into the scarcely-used chair. The upholstery had been laundered recently with hints of lilac. Flora sat up straight, trying to leave as little impression of her person in the room as possible.

"You girls leave for school in a couple days," Amycus said, clearing his throat.

The girls nodded gratefully.

"It's very important you make friends," said Alecto.

"The right kinds o' friends," Amycus clarified.

"Yeah, the right kinds," Alecto repeated. "Don't talk to no Mudbloods. You can talk to half-bloods, but don't touch 'em."

"But make as many friends as you can," Amycus instructed.

Alecto nodded at him and added, "Be nice to people of our blood. Don't stir up trouble."

Hestia shot a grin over to Flora, who wouldn't be able to cause trouble even if she was paid to do it. Amycus cleared his throat again.

"There's names you wanna be extra nice to. Any Yaxleys, Gibbons, Malfoys, Averys, Blacks—"

"The Blacks died out, Am," Alecto whispered to him, as though it were a national tragedy. "Their women took their husbands' names. Their last male's in Azkaban."

"Shit, that's right," he whispered back, then turned back to the girls. "All right, then, Mulcibers, Jugsons, er… I guess if there's any Rowles—"

"If there's any Rowles, be nice to them but don't get cosy," Alecto said closely. "Their family's dread weird."

Hestia grinned again. The Rowles couldn't possibly be weirder than the people in front of her. Alecto tapped her lips thoughtfully and added:-

"Oh, but be nice to any Greengrasses, Wakelands, Springhouses, er, ugh, Kipplings…"

"Kipplings got Squib blood, but they're with the Greengrasses," Amycus clarified.

Alecto nodded at his words and continued, "Greengrasses, Malfoys, and Selwyns practically control the country. Loads of money. Greengrasses are blood-traitors, but they're only ever to see you two at your best, you understand?"

"Yes," said Flora, and Hestia rolled her eyes. Amycus and Alecto didn't see her. They were busy trying to think of all the instructions to send the girls off with.

"Talk smarter," Amycus noted.

"Yeah, talk real posh," echoed Alecto. "Add '-g's' to the ends of your words. Don't say 'ain't' and 'yeh' and 'ya' or anything."

"Say 'aren't' and 'you,'" Amycus emphasised.

Alecto wrung her hands and whispered back and forth with her brother. When they weren't looking, Hestia tugged a string out of her sleeve and flicked it onto the perfect carpet.

"Well, now… You girls can hold your own, can't you? Yeah. Strong witches. Good blood in you," Amycus said with a quick nod.

"Great blood," Alecto stressed.

Amycus's voice became sterner:-

"If anyone asks, you trace your bloodline back to the sixth century. And yes, we're older than the Peverells — plus, the last of them bled into us. And yes, we have the documentation, but trust me, no one's gonna argue with you."

"Am… d'you think they'll get bullies?" said Alecto quietly, and Amycus frowned.

"Bull—? Well, can't be as bad as we did… 'Course them teachers are so incompetent…" he whispered back.

"I'll wring their necks if they let it happen," said Alecto with a sneer.

Amycus looked closely at each girl and said, "Don't get in no fights over it. You're gonna have to tell a teacher to stop it. Pick a teacher you like."

Having never sat down, the older set of twins started pacing nervously about the room. Hestia's chest tightened, wondering if they would suddenly change their minds about sending them to school at all.

"Don't be invitin' no friends over," Amycus ordered.

"You can meet 'em in Diagon Alley in the summer if you're good and get good marks," Alecto specified.

"—and you tell us who they are first," Amycus tacked on.

As they spoke, they started circling around each other like two large koi in a pond too small.

"Can't be no Rowles," circled Alecto.

"Can't be no half-bloods neither," circled Amycus.

"But otherwise," circled Alecto.

"Yeah, make friends. It's good for you," circled Amycus.

"But stick together too," Alecto said, wringing her hands.

"Yeah don't be turnin' on each other over stupid things," Amycus said, cracking his knuckles.

They stopped their swimming and stared at each other, then nodded in unison.

"Accio suitcase," said Alecto, and the item in question came floating in from the kitchen.

"Now pay attention to this suitcase," said Amycus, opening it in front of the girls. "This has all your first-aid in it and anything you'll need if you get ill. There's not a damn thing missin' out of this here suitcase. Practically a whole apothecary. Just follow the dosage directions for everything — Hestia, even you know how to do that."

Hestia raised her eyebrows at him and snorted. Alecto reached into one of the suitcase's pockets and pulled out a small handbook.

"This is a book on counter-jinxes, right along in here. You run into any issue and you got everything you need, even Skele-Gro."

"Now don't be doing nothin' that's gonna call for Skele-Gro in the first place, mind," said Amycus, and Alecto giggled.

"Now what's so funny, Alliecat?" he asked her.

"Your face when you said that."

"Well, I dunno what they're gonna get up to in that big ol' castle, do I?"

"It just looked like you was thinkin' up mischief, Am."

Hestia put her elbow on the arm of her chair and rested her cheek in her fist. As soon as the furniture creaked under her weight, the girls were sent out of the room.

"I'm not gonna remember any of them rules tomorrow," Hestia said on the stair.

"Any of those rules," said Flora, remembering them all.

They sat on the floor of Dad's room to spend time with him before leaving. He was reclined in bed, reading a book as usual. Sometimes he read the same book twice in a month. Dad had never attended Hogwarts, so he couldn't answer any of their curiosities about what it would be like. They showed their new wands and robes off to him. On the morning of their departure, they ran into his room to wake him up.

"I can't go to the station, girls," he said sadly. "I can't Apparate. You lot are Apparating there, it's quickest."

"But—" Hestia said, tears in her eyes.

"No, Dad's right," Flora said. "If he can't Apparate, he can't Apparate. It's dangerous to try if you can't. I'm sorry, Dad."

"Well, don't be sorry for me," he chuckled. "I'm sorry I can't see you off."

Hestia choked back tears. It wasn't right to have to be seen off by Amycus and Alecto. She cracked Dad's bedroom window to give him some fresh air and left before he would see her cry. It all confirmed what she had suspected. Dad was somehow disabled. Money was tight, sure, but whatever was wrong with him was why they all had to live here. The problem was that Hestia couldn't figure how Dad was disabled or what the problem was. Something mental? He always seemed physically fine, if a bit inert.

The girls found a private place to sit on the Hogwarts Express and didn't bother to check to see if Amycus and Alecto were waving to them on the platform. They knew those two had already left.

"Flora, what's really wrong with Dad? What kind of problem does he have?" Hestia asked, since Flora seemed to know everything.

But whatever was wrong with Dad was the one thing Flora didn't know.

Hestia and Flora waited on tip-toes to be Sorted that night at the opening feast. The castle was grand, grander than they had imagined, yet all of their attention was on a tatty old hat. When worn, the hat Sorted students into one of four Houses. Hestia had been carrying around a brand-new worry for the past hour: What if we end up in different Houses?

Flora seemed like a Ravenclaw, which Hestia certainly wasn't. Perhaps Flora would be a Slytherin, and Hestia would end up somewhere else. That would be yet another reason for Amycus and Alecto to chastise her. The expectation was that they would both be Slytherins, but the House itself wasn't stressed nearly as much as getting friendly with other purebloods was. Hestia didn't care what House they were in as long as they were together.

The letter-C's were up next. There went a Ravenclaw, a Gryffindor, and another Ravenclaw. Then the old witch holding the roster squinted at her parchment. She adjusted her spectacles. She turned round to look at the Headmaster. He gave her a big old shrug.

"Carrow, Flora!" she called.

Flora immediately marched up to the stool with a stiff upper lip. The hat sat upon her head for about a second.

"SLYTHERIN!"

The Slytherin table applauded her, though their eyes didn't match their hands. Flora did not take a seat, as she was waiting for Hestia. It made Hestia even more nervous.

Well now I HAVE to be in Slytherin, she thought.

"Carrow, Hestia!" the witch called.

Hestia shuffled up to the stool with her shoulders nearly up to her ears and took a seat. Her hands were clasped tightly, and she looked up to the Enchanted Ceiling to see if there were any pretend stars to wish upon. The hat went over her head.

"…Slytherin!"

Hestia's breath of relief came as quickly as a deflating balloon. She ran over to her sister, locked hands with her, and jumped. Flora did not jump.

"Thank goodness. Let's find a seat."

Hestia was hoping to eat, but she had to wait for everyone to be Sorted first. This could take forever, she thought as a snooty-looking girl named Diane Carter sauntered past her.

"Clarke, Rhiannon!"

Talk about taking forever. This Clarke girl wasn't getting any answer from the Sorting Hat. They would never get through the alphabet. Hestia's stomach was miserable. After more silence, Hestia craned her neck to look at the House-less girl and hopefully give her the hint to hurry herself along. But as soon as she shot the girl a glare, she felt bad for doing so. Rhiannon Clarke looked just as nervous as Hestia had been a handful of minutes ago.

Rhiannon had strawberry-blonde curls rolling copiously down her shoulders and big, dark brown eyes that stood out against her face. Freckles were sprinkled all across her round nose and cheeks. Hestia couldn't help but think of her aunt's words: "doe-eyes and thick lips that we just don't have."

The word Hestia was looking for was "pretty." But it was a hard word to find when Rhiannon's face was touched with anxiety, and — no, Hestia wasn't making it up — Rhiannon was malnourished. She hid her body in a robe that had not been bespoken. When the hat finally Sorted Rhiannon, it put her into Slytherin. Her black tie magically became green and silver, and the House coat of arms embroidered itself above her chest. Hestia instantly budged up to give Rhiannon a place to sit, to invite her, to make friends…

But Rhiannon went and sat with Diane Carter, who was so pretty that she made Hestia feel ugly. But Hestia could already tell based on Diane's mannerisms that she was a bitch.

Having been perfectly isolated their whole lives, Hestia and Flora found it impossible to fit themselves into conversations at the Slytherin table. Indeed, nobody seemed to want to go the extra length to include them, either. Hestia talked to Flora the whole time. Sometimes Flora even talked back.

"It's looking like my baby sister won't be able to come," said a blonde girl in a dramatic voice. "She would be Sorted next year, you see, but her magic is utterly too weak and unpredictable… Yes, yes, it's a shame, I've tried to help her along the way… No, poor thing most likely has to be home-schooled. I'll miss her dearly…"

"That's a Greengrass," Flora said under her breath, nodding at the blonde drama queen.

"Yeah, I can tell by the silk brocade cape she's got on," Hestia mocked.

A pug-faced, brunette witch next to the Greengrass said, "Oh, Daphne, I'm sorry. That sounds like such an embarrassment."

"Oh, embarrassment for Astoria, perhaps," sighed Daphne. "Maman and Daddy are going to do everything they can for her. Who knows if she'll ever keep up with me, poor dear…"

"Keep up with you, Daphne? Shouldn't be too hard," said a wizard who looked just as snobbish as Daphne. "She might get ahead of you now that you've said all that."

"Oh, Malfoy, talk to the hand!" said Daphne, holding up her pink-manicured nails.

"A Malfoy, then," Flora pointed out. "I know they said to talk to any Malfoys, but I'm not sure I want to."

"They all look so spoilt over there," Hestia noted.

"'Cause they are."

A tall, dark, and un-handsome sort of wizard slinked alongside the Slytherin table and honed in on Daphne Greengrass's silk brocade cape.

"That is not part of your uniform, Miss Greengrass. Remove it," he said in a nasally voice.

Daphne Greengrass put on all affectations she could muster.

"Oh, but Professor Snape, this garment needs special care, and I've left my uniform robes in my trunk. I wasn't thinking, Professor. This is what I wore on the train, and I just forgot…"

"It was announced on the train to change into your uniform for those not already wearing it," Professor Snape bit.

"Well, you see, Pansy and I were in such an engaging little conversation that I fear I neglected to hear the announcement… Oh, Professor, forgive me this once, please… There's only twenty minutes of dinner left…"

"If I see you out of uniform tomorrow, you can expect your showy silk cape to get stained whether by accident or not," Professor Snape responded, earning Hestia's esteem.

After dinner, the twins were placed in a situation where other people did have to talk to them. They had three other dormmates: Zoe Accrington, Scarlett Lympsham, and Alex Sykes. None of those names were on the Sacred Twenty-Eight list; in fact, only Alex had a pureblood surname at all.

"At least no Rowles or Greengrasses," Flora whispered.

Hestia followed her roommates' conversation closely so that she would know what to say. Zoe was from London. Scarlett was from Chichester. Alex was from Sykes Fell, where her family had lived for centuries.

"We're from Cromer," Hestia said.

"Cromer… Cromer… Oh, we holidayed there once. Have you heard the ghost bells? Or seen the Black Shuck?" Zoe asked.

"Er, no, actually."

"Me neither!" said Zoe, making Hestia feel a bit better about her own witchiness.

Zoe had an older brother who was already on his own and a baby sister who was five years younger. Scarlett had three step-siblings. Alex had an older sister in Hufflepuff.

"It's just us," said Hestia.

"Who's the older?" asked Scarlett.

"Er, me," Hestia said.

"By twenty-three minutes," Flora said.

Zoe's father worked in the Obliviator Headquarters at the Ministry, and her mother was part of the Minister's staff. Scarlett's mother worked for the Wizarding Wireless Network, and her father was a landlord over several lettings in Carkitt Market. Alex's parents were both successful dragonologists.

Our dad's mysteriously disabled, Hestia thought, but if he were truly disabled, wouldn't Amycus and Alecto be the first people to collect (or steal) his pension?

"Our Dad works from home," Flora lied.

The next subject was an especially tricky one to navigate: boys. Hestia couldn't even track how they had got on such a topic; Scarlett had said something or other about how cute Montel Davis was when she spotted him at dinner. And the next thing Hestia knew, Zoe was asking, "Have you ever kissed a boy?"

Kissed? Hestia could hardly imagine touching the face of a boy with her hands, let alone her lips.

"No, I haven't kissed a boy… yet," Alex laughed. "I was born a boy, but I haven't kissed anybody yet! But now that you mention Montel Davis…"

"Oh no you don't! He's mine," Scarlett insisted. "What about you two, then?"

"Merlin, no," Hestia and Flora said in unison, then erupted in sniggers.

"Well, I have!" announced Zoe.

"What — your pet toad?" Scarlett teased.

"No! It was Cosmo Selwyn. He was over for a party my family had once."

"I don't believe you kissed a Selwyn!" said Alex.

"If you see him, you ask him then!" Zoe said.

"He's a boy," Alex said, "he'll deny it to the grave."

Hestia was certain that Flora would jump in on the conversation at any moment, leaving her the last one out. But Flora lacked enthusiasm just the same. However, even Hestia got a bit interested when Scarlett cut and folded a piece of parchment into a four-point fortune-teller.

"What are you writing on the inside?" Alex asked, trying to see over Scarlett's shoulder.

"No peeking! You have to play the game. All right you go first. Which colour: red, yellow, blue, or green?"

Hestia watched intently so she would know what to do when it was her turn.

"Green — I just got Sorted in Slytherin, didn't I?" said Alex.

"G – R – E – E – N. All right. Pick a number."

"Eight."

"One – two – three – four – five – six – seven – eight. Pick a number."

"Hmmmm…. Eight."

"Pff! One – two – three – four – five – six – seven – eight. One more."

"Eight."

"All right, all right! Here's your fortune. 'You will find true love… in the House… of GRYFFINDOR!"

"NOOOOO!" Alex wailed in hilarity.

"Well, that's what you get for making me fold this so many times. All right, Flora, you're up," said Scarlett. "Pick a colour."

"Blue," said Flora.

"B – L – U – E. Pick a number!"

"Three," said Flora.

"One – two – three. And a number."

"One," said Flora.

"Okay, last number."

"Two," said Flora.

"Your first kiss will be… on accident!" Scarlett yelped.

Flora nodded, seeming to think that any kiss on her part would be an accident.

"Hestia, your turn! What colour?"

"Green," said Hestia.

"G – R – E – E – N."

"Four!"

"One – two – three – four. All right!"

"Eight."

"One – two – three – four – five – six – seven – eight. And now?"

"One," said Hestia.

"Your true love will cross oceans for you," Scarlett said in a mysterious voice and the other girls went, "Oooooo."

That night before bed, Hestia tried to picture what her ocean-crossing true love might look like. It was quite a task for her imagination, but she kept imagining someone with a lot of tattoos. And a lot of curves. Her blush warmed her pillowcase.

"That's a lot of make-up for girls their age."

That comment came from Professor McGonagall.

"It's a wonder what sorts of things their mother must be tellin' them."

The reply came from Professor Sprout.

"Well, you see…" Professor McGonagall said with a little cough, "they don't have a mother listed in their emergency contacts."

"Aw, the poor things," tutted Professor Sprout. "Hestia's really thriving in my class."

"Yes, and Flora's thriving in mine… but I do think it's best we watch and support them all we can… You see, the only contacts we have in the Headmaster's office are…" her voice dropped very, very low, "Amycus and Alecto."

Professor Sprout gasped so deeply she sounded like a pipe organ that had gone out of tune — "No!"

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall, wetting her lips. "They are listed as their aunt and uncle."

"But those girls are no trouble, no trouble at all!" Professor Sprout chattered.

"Well… the Book of Admittance has a name — and Pomona, don't quote me on this — Aban Carrow, but we've never had anyone by that name actually enter our doors."

"Well, any name close? Any other Carrows?" Professor Sprout wondered.

"No. The very last Carrows here were… well, the two," McGonagall said closely.

"Perhaps this Aban and his wife are deceased," responded the other witch sadly. "Oh, and those poor girls… stuck under the same roof as… as both!"

A third gossiper came ambling by, this one being Madam Pince, the librarian.

"Are you by any chance talking about the Carrow twins…?" she whispered.

"Well, out of concern—" Professor Sprout tried to cover.

"That Aban Carrow you mentioned, he's real," Pince whispered, and the two instructors put their hands to their falling chests. "I have the Carrow articles in my newspaper archives — not for general perusal, of course — but it was stated he was five years old at the time of the parents' deaths."

"Oh, how awful," McGonagall groaned. "Now… five years old in 1968 would place him at nine and twenty, then."

"He must've had those twins at eighteen," Pince calculated. "And did you say they're all…?"

"Yes, all at the same address, the house where the parents died."

"He must've never got on his own two feet, that Aban," Sprout said. "Makes sense, poor bloke. Only five when his parents died. Being under the care of such… ugh… And of course, he had his babies young. Oh, I do feel sorry for those girls and their dad."

Hestia was tired of feeling sorry for herself, but she did feel sorry for Dad. She and Flora stood in a thin passage hidden behind a tapestry dedicated to the Peverell family, eavesdropping to hear what their teachers truly thought of them. Hestia was content to harbour the grudge privately, but Flora went to the library the following Monday and got into a row with Madam Pince over letting her see the "Carrow articles."

As far as the story went, after Flora said, "If you can run your filthy mouth about my family, I'm entitled to see the news archives about them," she was sent to the Headmaster's office. Hestia wouldn't know if that account was true or not, because Flora wouldn't speak about the event at all.

With a stony silent Flora, Hestia had practically nobody to talk to. Her roommates had gone from occasionally talking about boys to always talking about boys. Hestia found the topic exclusionary, and with absolutely nothing to say on the matter, she eventually did end up being excluded from ordinary conversations as well.

There was another clique that didn't always talk about boys per se, but the problem was that they typically made fun of people over nothing. Their ringleader was Diane Carter, and she was flanked by Olivia Shardlow, Imogen Stretton, and Tracey Nettlebed.

Rhiannon Clarke tagged along with them to all classes and meals, so even though she seemed nice, she became unapproachable when surrounded by the clique. Hestia wished Rhiannon would come and talk to her instead. More than once, Hestia had heard the other girls talking about how impoverished Rhiannon was behind her back. They mock-imitated her accent by putting grapes in their mouths when she went to the lavatory. Hestia wished they'd all choke.

It was this wish that brought Hestia to the Library to read up on jinxes she wasn't supposed to cast. To her surprise, Flora was there with a look of shameless protest across her face. Hestia would have been too scared to face Madam Pince again if she were Flora (she had even feared being mistaken for Flora by the librarian). But Flora couldn't care less. She did not have any newspapers in front of her but rather a large stack of volumes that she was apparently browsing to decide which ones to rent: Human Magical Biology: Vol. I, Lemures and How to Oust Them, Magical Moral Perspective, Moral Theories of the World, and Wizards Are from Neptune, Witches Are from Saturn.

"H-Hi, Flora," Hestia whispered, unsure of whether they should be in the Library.

"Hello, Hestia. The Herbology section is in 500-599. The Potions section is in 600-699."

That wasn't what Hestia had come in for, but it was good to know.

"Er… do you know where there's books on, er… erm…"

"On what?"

"Like, jinxes and—"

"Oh. That would be 950-960."

"How'd you memorise all this?"

"Been here all day."

"Still."

Hestia milled about the bookshelves, taking out more volumes than she could ever hope to read within the lending period. She retrieved Jinxes for the Jinxed, Prank Jinxes, and How to Survive First Year straightaway. She did end up going to the Herbology section, retrieving The Strangest Magical Plants and Their Properties before going to the Potions section. No matter how hard she looked, there wasn't any book called How to Prepare Venoms for Your Aunt and Uncle's Black Market Trade.

There was, however, a red book titled, Introduction to the Magic of Love Potions. Hestia ran her fingers down the spine to feel the gilded lettering. She didn't want caught with that book in her arms, though, so she hurried off and ended up in an even worse section of the Library that seemed to deal with… self-help?

Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches was soon in her hands as she looked over her shoulder. It would be funny, she thought. It wasn't like any boys in her class were waiting right behind her for the copy. Boys didn't talk about girls nearly as much as the girls talked about boys. Hestia sent her other books over to the desk where Flora sat, but she opened the last one in the safety of the aisle. It had twelve chapters. Chapter One was called "Being Kindly."

If you want witches, the book read, you must give up your boyhood days of constantly teasing the girls you fancy. A few small jokes are all right every once in a while, but you can't have pretty girls thinking that all you want to do is make fun of them. No more chasing girls with jinxes or putting slugs in their bags. The key to winning a witch's heart begins with being friendly. You must first learn what that means. Don't expect to tell a girl that you like her eyes and end up in her pants.

Hestia gasped quietly. She hadn't even experienced her boyhood days of teasing girls yet, much less expecting to "end up" in their "pants." Was this book bad? She had to fight down her giggles. After consuming the entirety of Chapter One whilst standing, Hestia sat down in the aisle, hoping no one would notice her. The book was obviously written for boys, but that didn't mean a girl couldn't read it, right? Where else was she going to read something so hilarious? Sometimes, she even stumbled across useful information about making friends in general!

A few chapters later were dedicated to going on dates. So not only was it written for boys, it was written for older boys.

DO NOT APPARATE YOUR DATE TO YOUR DATING SPOT, the book cautioned. IF SHE GETS A SPLINCHING INJURY, SHE WILL NEVER TALK TO YOU AGAIN.

It did, however, advise readers to do something exciting and appealing to the average girl before trying to do anything too fancy.

If you drag her along to a Quidditch game, it would be a good idea to at least take her for a broomride afterwards (meaning on a broom). If she suggests seeing a play, the author strongly advises you to sit quietly and not complain. Put your arm around her if the seating allows it, but do NOT attempt to grab her chest. She will find you tactless and crude. Not only that: she will tell all her friends, so they won't date you, either.

Hestia kept trying to check over her shoulder for anyone who might spot her reading such ornery content, but since she was leaned against the bookshelf, the only giggling at her expense came from the semi-sentient books behind her.

"Oh, hush," she scolded the books.

Some of the later chapters started getting weird. Hestia's eyes widened over at least seven euphemisms. There were at least twenty more topics of interest that went right over her head. She found it all unbearably funny and simply had to share some of these things with Flora. It'd been so long since Flora had laughed.

"Flora, read this sentence," Hestia whispered, handing Flora the book with a finger placed over a particularly dirty passage.

Flora scrunched her nose into more wrinkles than a deflated Quaffle.

"Hestia, what are you doing with a book like that?" she whispered.

"It's funny. It's trying to tell boys how to date girls."

"That's more than dating," Flora said, struggling to contain her voice in a whisper. "Put that rubbish back."

"Oh, what's the harm," chuckled Hestia. "Look, look… what's this even mean?"

Reluctantly, Flora peered at Hestia's book again and rolled her eyes. Drawing a long, disappointed breath, she thumbed open Human Magical Biology and tapped her finger on a diagram that made Hestia blush.

"Mine doesn't look a thing like that," Hestia whispered in Flora's ear.

Flora swatted her away dramatically.

"Of course not. This is a drawing of someone fully grown," she hissed.

Hestia could no longer contain her laughter:-

"I meant mine didn't come with labels all over it."

She had to cup her hands over her giddy mouth and wander off to a far corner lest Madam Pince would hear her.

"Take this with you," Flora insisted, Levitating the dating advice book over to Hestia.

Hestia had forgotten where the thing had come from, so she had to place it on a return rack and run away so as not to be incriminated. What she had read in there ought to get her through at least two months of rotten jokes.

During her next Flying class, Rhiannon Clarke was right next to her. She had no hat even though it was lightly sprinkling, and Hestia inferred that she couldn't afford one. But this way, she got to see the way the rain plastered Rhiannon's wavy fringe to her forehead and frizzed her big curls.

"Rhiannon, right?" Hestia said.

Rhiannon turned with those big dark eyes that sized Hestia up.

"Thas me," she said with a voice thicker than caramel chews.

They watched Curtis Evercreech struggle to get off the ground.

"Think my broomstick's longer than his," Hestia whispered.

Rhiannon laughed through her nose. Aha! So she liked these kinds of jokes.

"He looks like he's tryna be a stripper," Rhiannon whispered back.

She had an accent that avoided its "H's" at all costs. Hestia didn't know what a stripper was, but she somehow remembered the answer when Rhiannon asked her for her name.

"Er, Hestia."

And when Rhiannon said it back, it sounded like "Ess-cha."

Ess-cha, Hestia thought that evening at dinner. Ess-cha, she thought, staring at her dark ceiling. But when they were both giggling about "swish and flicker" a few Charms classes later, Rhiannon had morphed the name into "Ess-chia."

Ess-chia, Hestia tried to get used to her new name. Rhiannon's tie was constantly coming undone. Hestia saw Rhiannon take a hair grip from her mess of a ponytail and stick it in the satiny fabric to hold it in place. Ess-chia.

They didn't talk much, so Hestia's task of making friends still went unsatisfied. On the eleventh of October, a fifth-year named Ansel Greengrass went about the Slytherins selling pumpkin lollies to benefit St Mungo's Hospital in preparation for the "influx of Hallowe'en medical incidents." Hestia and Flora had not been given any allowance — they hadn't even been able to get sweets from the trolley on the Hogwarts Express — but Hestia still had an idea. She consulted her first-aid suitcase and pulled out one of the valuable Blood-Replenishing Potions.

"Surely that's worth a pumpkin lolly. And the hospital will need that just as much as money," Hestia said, handing it to Ansel Greengrass in hopes of making a trade.

Ansel gave Hestia a look of distrust and rolled the phial in her hands. She had the audacity to uncork and sniff it, and when the whiff made her gag, she knew the potion was real. Ansel ended up allowing the trade. She gave Hestia a bright orange tag to address her giftee. She tried to keep her scrawl neat as she filled in the lines.

To: Rhiannon Clarke

House and Year: Slytherin, 1st year

From:

Ess-chia, Hestia thought with a strange lump in her throat. She wrote "Hestia C." on the blank line because people tended to act like her last name was a swear word. On Hallowe'en morning, Ansel Greengrass distributed the pumpkin lollies to their recipients (Draco Malfoy had got three from Pansy Parkinson alone). Neither Hestia nor Flora got any, but Rhiannon approached them with a grin.

"Oi, thanks for the punkin!" Rhiannon said to Flora, having mixed them up.

Hestia's shoulders slumped. The teachers mixed them up on the daily, but she wished that she was recognisable in Rhiannon's eyes. Her face turned a shy, angry red. It wasn't Rhiannon's fault, though.

"I'm Flora," said Flora in her Flora voice. "That's Hestia."

"Oh! That's me bad. Anyways, thanks, Estia!"

It wasn't Ess-cha or Ess-chia anymore. It was Estia. And that was as close to Hestia that it was ever going to get. Hestia settled into her final name with ease, but things at school would soon become anything but easy.