The second drabble. It took longer than I anticipated to put it up, so sorry about that.
Her childhood had been a happy one, until her parents were killed by a dark wizard and witch.
She had been twelve at the time, and had cried when she saw it, and vowed revenge. And on her fifteenth birthday she got it, killing them both. She'd never told a living soul about her one act of murder, because she believed it was deserved and, honestly, she didn't want to relive it, didn't want to see again the look of fear in the eyes of the prey she was hunting as she killed them.
And so she had decided to start fresh, with her friend Helga and her friend Godric, and his friend Salazar. She had never learned to read and write, but the others had taught her, and she excelled. She soon became better at reading and writing than any of them, and certainly more eager to learn, although they were all just as eager to teach.
And she learned magic. It was almost like an addiction for her, something she needed each day. She needed more knowledge, and so she found it, inventing new spells and potions and teaching them to the others and her students.
It was her dream, completely fulfilled.