I grew up with a lot of green

Nice things 'round me

I was safe, I was fine

Grew up with a lot of dreams

Plans who to be

None of them know were mine

Cordelia Prince sat at her vanity watching the flame of a candle sitting in front of her light and unlight, hypnotized by the burning bits of ember coming off the wick.

It was the summer after her first year of formal wizard education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Cordelia Prince was miserable. While she did live what most would consider a charmed life, coming from a well-respected pure-blood family with money and influence to spare, she has yet to see how those things were a benefit. To her they seemed to be nothing more than a gilded cage.

At this point she was reasonably certain her mother was deliberately trying to drive her irreversibly mad. The woman in question was Yvonne Prince of the Noble house of Prince, a perfect pure-blood witch in every way, well mannered, well dressed, and well connected. Cordelia, being her only daughter, had thus far spent the summer doing nothing but endless hours of torture, or as her mother liked to call it, "preparing her for the duties of a pure-blood witch." Whatever the bloody hell that meant.

This, unfortunately, meant that Cordelia had been subjected to hours upon hours of etiquette lessons, pouring over old pure-blood family lineages, learning proper posture, dancing lessons, how to eat properly, how to speak properly; it was as if her mother was her own personal finishing school and Cordelia was in her own personal nightmare.

She had taken to coming up with any and all excuses she could to escape her mothers iron grip, on one occasion even going as far as hiding in the attic. This worked for all of five minutes until a bogart wormed its way out of an old cupboard. The figure that stood before her in the musty attic sent her running back downstairs and into her room for the rest of the day.

She eventually got desperate enough to start following her father around a bit more, in the name of "quality time." Not that her father seemed to care for that matter. He often barely even noticed her existence. Decimus Prince, much like his wife, embodied what a man of his stature "should" be. He was a stoic man with a commanding presence. He also sat on the board of every important ministry committee that their family name (or money) could bribe his way onto.

Her parents' coldness was not just directed at Cordelia, but at each other as well. Her mother and father seemed to have an unspoken agreement to stay out of each other's way as much as possible. So, if she was with her father, most of the time her mother let her be.

This was a solid plan up until one night, at one of her parents' dinner parties, Cordelia had been told by her mother one too many times to "sit up nicely like a lady." She went to find her father, hoping to ward off her mother. He was having a conversation with an associate of his when she walked up.

"Ah, Decimus, this must be your lovely daughter," the man gestured her way.

"Yes, Cordelia. This is Mr. Bagman." her father said dryly. Cordelia nodded a greeting to Mr. Bagman only for her mother to somehow materialize behind her, clearing her throat. Cordelia internally rolled her eyes.

"Pleasure, to meet you Mr. Bagman," Cordelia said, trying her best not to sound sarcastic.

Mr. Bagman chuckled and turned back to her father, "As I was saying, Decimus, the Ministry is really putting a priority on quidditch this year…" Cordelia had immediately perked up at this. Cordelia could vividly remember the first quidditch game she had attended.

It had been the final match of the World Cup, Wales vs. Argentina. Cordelia had spent much of the game watching slack jawed and mesmerized as the mostly female Welsh team whipped the pitch with Argentina. Their chasers were especially tenacious, punching bludgers out of the way, scoring goals whilst doing aerial rolls, there had even been a fist fight mid-air which had to be broken up when one of the women had bit the Argentina beater on the forearm.

More than once that match, Cordelia's mother had scolded her for "excessive cheering" and "using inappropriate words." But ever since, she had been enamored with the sport.

"You know Decimus, year after next the World Cup will be hosted in Britain for the first time in 30 years," Mr. Bagman continued to her father. The blonde stocky man now had her full attention.

Even her father seemed intrigued at this development, raising a brow with interest. "Oh really?"

"We're about a year into organizing. I could get you a nice spot in the minister's box if you'd like?" This sent a thrill of excitement through Cordelia.

Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, "That would be brilliant!" Her father shot her a vague look of disapproval at her outburst, but before she could open her mouth to correct herself Mr. Bagman let out a hearty chuckle.

"A fellow fan of the game, eh? You know I was a beater for the English team myself, back in my day? Hogwarts' has quite the quidditch teams if you wanted to try your hand at it yourself, young lady."

Cordelia felt the corners of her mouth lift involuntarily at the suggestions, "Maybe I will."

"Then, shall I owl you the tickets, Decimus?" Mr. Bagman sent her a wink. Her mother cleared her throat for the second time that night and she could practically feel the daggers her mother was staring into her back.

"Cordelia, be a dear and go say hello to your aunt Imogen." With that Cordelia reluctantly stocked off to talk to her aunt about something she assumed would be extremely dull like the table arrangements or how shiny she thought the floors should be.

Later that night her mother had come up to her room and made it very clear that playing quidditch was not becoming of her "lady of her stature" and she was henceforth forbidden from taking part in that barbaric sport. Cordelia stared back at the door her mother had slammed on her way out and naturally immediately resolved herself to make the quidditch team at school.

After that night, she began secretly practicing at night on the manor grounds. She had taken to waiting until her father had retired to his study and her mother had taken her sleeping draught to sneak out. With a little help from the family's house elf Lockey, three times a week Cordelia would creep as silently as possible down from her room, through the kitchens, out the servant's entrance, and across the grounds to the carriage house. Which these days their family was using mainly for storage.

Luckily for Cordelia amongst the items stored were a few of her father's old brooms. While old and long out of use, they did still fly. So, in the cover of darkness, Cordelia would zoom about chasing the various objects that Lockey would helpfully enchant, her parents never the wiser.

With all her clandestine nighttime activities and desperate attempts to avoid her mother, she was least distracted from the fact that she wouldn't get to see either of her school friends this Summer. Her friend Daphne Greengrass, who was from a very well-respected pure-blood family, was on holiday in Romania for the Summer. Cordelia figured she wouldn't likely see her until the start of term. Her only solace was that Daphne seemed just as miserable as Cordelia in her last letter.

Cordy,

Everything here is old and smells like beets. I heard there might be mermaids in the black sea. Maybe I can pay them to kidnap me.

-Daphne

Unfortunately, she knew better than to ask to visit her other school friend Tracey Davis. She was a muggle born, which according to Cordelia's parents was not an acceptable acquaintance to make, much less a friend, not that Cordelia cared. Tracey was a strong witch and a fierce friend.

In her eyes why should it matter what Tracey's parentage was, if anything it was more impressive that her magic had sprang forth from nothing, as she had no magic in her lineage. This was a line of thought she would not dare speak in front of her parents, however. The punishment would be swift and mind numbingly unbearable.

However, she was able to get letters from her friend. Fortunately, her parents had gifted her an owl in her first year. Sage, who was a tiny, brown Northern Saw-whet, made up for her size by being equal parts adorable and tenacious. She had never failed to deliver a parcel, no matter the size.

Dear Cordelia,

I hope this reaches you, I just got this owl and I really can't figure how he just knows where you are. Anyway, I wish you could visit. My brother keeps saying he wants to meet a "real witch". He'd do great in Slytherin if he ever gets magic. Write back soon.

-T

Thankfully, soon this unbearable summer would be over. July had turned to August, which soon passed to nearly September. It was on a late August morning that Cordelia was sitting staring at the flame of the candle on her desk. She had a vague urge to burn the entire house down at the moment, but settled for her current preoccupation with the candle.

She was unceremoniously pulled from her trance when her mother slammed open her bedroom door for the second time that morning. Her mother was impeccably dressed, as usual, in a gray velvet suit dress and had her dark hair pulled into a French twist, not one hair out of place.

Cordelia flinched as her mother screeched, "Cordelia Hildred Prince, did I not tell you to be downstairs and ready in exactly ten minutes? That was eleven minutes ag– Young lady! Are you playing with fire again?"

Cordelia fought very hard not to roll her eyes, knowing that would be a whole separate berating from her mother. She quickly blew out the flame and stood from her vanity.

"No, mother. And I am ready, see?" She gestured vaguely at her gray tweed pinafore and pressed shirt.

Her mother's dark eyes narrowed sharply looking almost black, "Yes and I see you managed to put together something appropriate for a change. Her mother's eyes passed over her ensemble now scrutinizing her hair, as Cordelia expected. She had pulled her deep brown hair into a braid down her back, hoping that would suffice.

Her mother's eye twitched a bit, but she continued, "I didn't realize this was the foyer, silly me." Her mother looked around her room with feigned curiosity.

Truly Cordelia was dragging her feet for a reason. Her parents had decided it was time for the yearly trip to Diagon Alley to get her school things. Her mother was oddly insistent that Cordy go with her father first then meet up later. Which given her mother's typical controlling tendencies should have been a red flag to Cordelia.

But nonetheless Cordelia was all but dragged downstairs to the main foyer of their manor where her father was waiting, looking none too pleased. He, as expected, was dressed flawlessly in a smart pinstripe set of robes, his dark hair was perfectly quaffed. Cordelia met her father's gray-blue eyes, a family trait that Cordelia had inherited. Then, without a word, they both stepped into the enormous fireplace.

Her father took a handful of Floo powder and said clearly in a commanding tone, "Borgin and Burkes." Green flames engulfed them as she watched her mother's form slide away only to be facing an entirely different view moments later. Cordelia immediately recognized the shop. She had been to Borgin and Burkes with her father a few times before in her many bids to escape her mother's lessons.

The place was undeniably creepy and desperately needed dust. I mean really, they know they can use magic to dust right? She thought to herself surveying the very musty surrounding shop.

Her father looked down at her, "Wait here." She nodded in response. After he turned his back, she rolled her eyes. Where could I possibly go? Like there's so many interesting stores in the creepy decrepit alley? Knockturn Alley, where this particular shop was located, was considered a bit of a "shady" area, to put it lightly. She walked around looking at the various, probably cursed artifacts. She made her way over to the dusty window looking out into the grimy ally. Ew.

It was then that she heard a dull ding from the shop bell as the door to the side of her opened. A man with long silvery blond hair and a regal face walked into the dusty shop followed literally by the last person she had wanted to see today. Mr. Malfoy turned back to his son, snapping his snake tipped cane down on the hand of his son, Draco, who had been in the process of examining a bronze idol of some kind.

"Touch nothing." He hissed. Cordelia snorted. Mr. Malfoy, having heard, snapped his head up immediately, narrowing his eyes.

"Ah, Miss Prince. Your father must have already arrived." He nodded to her cordially. Then proceeded to walk to the back of the store toward where her father was.

After his father was out of ear shot Draco spit out, "Prince."

Cordelia tsked, "So nice to see you too, Draco," she said, mocking the way her father had said his name. Draco, to her surprise, flushed slightly.

"Draco!" his father snapped, annoyance dripping from his voice.

Cordelia looked at him expectantly, making the "move along" hand motion. Draco sneered at her as he went to the back of the store carrying a black box. Presumably what his father was calling him for and presumably filled with some kind of shady cursed objects.

Now blissfully alone, Cordelia turned back to the window pulling up her sleeve so that she could rub a bit of the dust off and see out better when she heard the floorboards creak behind her. She turned back to the door only to come face to face with a soot covered and very alarmed looking Harry Potter seemingly trying to make a quick exit out the door. She opened her mouth, but before she could even finish the P in Potter, he shh-ed her.

"Please," he whispered pleadingly, looking back the direction her and Draco's father had gone. Right, he is definitely not supposed to be here, she realized. She nodded silently. She heard voices a little louder from the office. If either her father or Lucious Malfoy were to find Harry here it wouldn't be pretty. Thinking quickly, she grabbed Harry's hand.

"Come on Potter," She whispered. She led Harry out of the Shop and into the adjoining alley away from the street. She turned towards him, "Potter, if you were looking to do some sightseeing you really picked a poor place to do that." She snorted.

Harry looked at her incredulously and stuttered something about Floo powder. Cordelia genuinely chuckled about that. "Huh, what, you've never traveled by floo before? Weird." She mused.

"Yes, well my muggle aunt and uncle didn't have much use for it oddly enough." Harry shot back at her. Before she could respond she noticed an old crone with her eyes trained on them creeping towards them.

"While I'd love to trade barbs a little more Potter, I think that woman wants to make you into stew. So, let's get you out of here." She paused, looking him over, "Unless you'd like to be stew?"

He looked at her dead pan, "No, thanks." She took his hand again and led him into the street trying to remember the way out of the alley. Rushing up the stairs at the end of the street, she looked back to see if the crone was still following them and she ran smack into a solid mass of a person.

"Bloody hell," she looked up only to see the massive form of the Hogwarts groundskeeper of all people. Hagrid seemed bewildered at the sight of the two of them in a place like Knockturn Alley.

"Harry! What are you doing in a place like this?" Harry stuttered out the same excuse about Floo powder and getting lost. Then, thankfully Hagrid took both of them back to Diagon Alley. Harry turned to leave presumably to meet up with his friends, but turned back to Cordelia, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Um, thanks by the way."

"You owe me one Potter," Cordelia said with a slight smile giving him a quick wave goodbye as he left. She was left standing there with the realization that she had saved the boy who lived from quite possibly ending up in some creepy old lady's cauldron, but more importantly she had successfully ditched both of her parents. She was in Diagon Alley with a pocket full of galleons and sickles, unsupervised. It almost made her giddy.

Her first stop was obviously Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. Where she bought herself a dark chocolate and blood orange swirl cone. She walked around the alley enjoying her cone when in the distance she heard a familiar voice near the Leaky Cauldron.

"Yes, mom, it is normal. No! Dad please don't touch the floating cauldron." Cordelia could hear the familiar voice of her friend Tracey Davis, "Trace" for short, and what appeared to be her muggle parents.

"Trace!" Cordelia yelled from across the street. Tracey perked up immediately and looked her way.

"Cordy!" Tracey yelled barreling toward her. She ran at Cordelia and hit her with a somewhat violent hug that nearly knocked the wind out of her and almost made her spill her ice cream, but she returned the hug, nonetheless.

"Ok, yes, Trace. I missed you too, but you're crushing my lungs." Cordelia grunted out. Cordelia had almost forgotten how freakishly strong Tracey was. Sometimes Cordelia wondered if there was some giant's blood deep in Davis family lineage. The girl sheepishly let her go and Cordelia looked her friend over. Tracey had deep bronze skin and it seems had cut her hair over summer and was now sporting dark cropped hair. She met her friend's brown eyes, which reflected the grin she had. Tracey turned to introduce Cordelia to her parents.

Sonya and Theobald Davis were kind to Cordelia. However, her mom gave off an aura of being just a little bit terrifying. She gave off a vibe that said if you mess with me, I'll make you disappear, and her dad seemed like his greatest wish would be to disappear. Someone should tell him about invisibility cloaks. They were a bit of an odd couple, but they did seem to truly care about Tracey.

Unfortunately, Tracey and her parents were on their way back home when Cordelia met them, but Tracey did tell her that Daphne was here as well today. Tracey had just run into her at Eeylops Owl Emporium. So, Cordelia headed that way, finishing the last of her ice cream on the way.

She entered Eeylops and immediately found Daphne. She wasn't hard to miss. Daphne Greengrass was already tall for her age and with her high cheekbones, impeccable fashion sense, and sleek straight platinum blond hair, she could easily be mistaken for a child model or something.

Currently, said blonde was holding quite possibly the ugliest creature Cordelia had ever seen. Is that meant to be a cat? She thought to herself in confusion. It was completely hairless, with wrinkly skin, big ears, and large icy blue eyes. It really resembled a slightly sick house elf more than a cat. But Daphne had it cradled in her arms like a newborn baby.

Finally, noticing her, Daphne looked up from the creature in her arms to Cordelia.

"Cordy." Daphne said, the corner of her mouth raising slightly. Daphne was a stone-faced girl most of the time, so for anyone else this would be a full faced grin. "I bought a cat." she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I can see that." Cordelia said, trying her best not to visibly cringe.

"Her name is Astrid and I would kill for her." Daphne said, seemingly 100% serious. Cordelia, trying to be a supportive friend, walked over to the two and cautiously pat Astrid on her bald head. It was like petting an old man's knee. Astrid just stared blankly at her. Wow, they are made for each other.

"She's lovely." Cordelia said, hoping she sounded genuine.

"I know, right?" Daphne stated. Cordelia could have sworn she almost heard some fondness in Daphne's voice. This was quite possibly the happiest she had ever seen her.

The two girls left the shop and Daphne agreed to accompany Cordelia to Quality Quidditch Supplies for some more, unsupervised shopping. When the girls got close enough to the shop Cordelia spotted what looked to be a newly released broom in the display window. It had polished black wood and silver hardware. The Nimbus 2001, was the newest model in the Nimbus series and the fastest broom in existence, according to the display window.

"Wow…" Cordelia breathed out. Daphne looked up from where she was fawning over Astrid.

"You should get it." she said matter-of-factly. Cordelia turned to gawk at her.

"Maybe if I want my parents to send me to Azkaban." Cordelia scoffed. "Mother's head would explode, and they'd make me clean it up." Though Cordelia was sounding less and less convinced the more she talked. "They'd hang me by my toes from the ceiling in the dungeon…" Cordelia trailed off, still looking at the shiny broom. She glazed back at Daphne, who had one eyebrow raised expectantly.

"I'm getting it." Cordelia said resolutely.

"Yup." Daphne replied.

The two girls entered the shop and after about twenty minutes came back out, Daphne still stroking Astrid along her fleshy ears and Cordelia with a gift-wrapped Nimbus 2001 and a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages. Cordelia was nearly beaming with excitement chatting with her friend about how excited she was to practice with her new broom.

This was when fate decided to rear its ugly head. Out of the stationary store that was next door to Quality Quidditch Supplies walked Cordelia's Mother. Cordelia was sure she felt her soul leave her body. Her mother zeroed in on her immediately, walking very deliberately right over to them.

"Where have you been, young lady?" Mrs. Prince interrogated. "You're supposed to be with your father and–" She paused. "And here I find you unsupervised with–" She finally seemed to have noticed Daphne. "Ah, yes Daphne, I was just chatting with your mother about a lovely new letterhead. Be a dear and go meet her and your sister in the stationary shop."

While her mother's fake smile was convincingly cordial enough, her tone left no room for argument. Daphne glanced at Cordelia, her eyebrow twitching, then left without a word. Traitor. Cordelia watched her walk into the stationary shop begrudgingly.

"Now, what, pray tell, is all this?" Her mother gestured to the gift-wrapped broom and book. In hindsight, Cordelia was not sure why she had even bothered to get it wrapped. Maybe she thought it would magically hide the very clear broom shape. It had not. She panicked, grasping for any excuse she could think of. GIFT wrapped, that's right!

"It's a gift!" She blurted out hoping she sounded confident. Well at the very least her mother had not expected this answer if the look on her face was any indication. Her mother's look of surprise was brief and quickly replaced with one of keen interest and something sinister. Oh no.

"Oh really?" Her mother smiled coyly, "and who are these, quite expensive looking gifts for?" She had made a grave error. Oh no. No. No.

"Um…well…" Cordelia began.

"Out with it." Her mother demanded, eyes immediately turning sharp. "Unless you have deliberately gone against my instructions for you to NOT pursue anything to do with that silly quidditch sport?"

"No! They're for… M-Malfoy!" Cordelia sputtered out. I. Am. An. Idiot. "I-I was embarrassed. They're a gift, I'm going to give them to him at school." Cordelia just kept digging herself deeper and deeper into a hole of her own stupidity. Azkaban would have been better than this. It got worse as a look of delight came across her mother's face.

"I see my lessons have finally started to sink in. Excellent, when we get home, we'll work on writing a proper letter to go with them. I got you some lovely new letterhead, so we could start working on your frankly atrocious penmanship. Oh, I will have to send Narcissa an owl; she'll be very pleased with this development indeed…"

Her mother kept going on and on and on. From their trip to Flourish and Blotts for Cordelia's books to Madam Malkin's for her robes all the way back to the Leaky Cauldron where they would Floo back home. Her mother only briefly paused to say "Prince Manor'' then launched right back into babbling about various extremely dull things. By the time they reached home, jamming her wand into her ear holes and just being deaf for the rest of her life was sounding very tempting to Cordelia.

She trudged back to her room leaving her mom still talking whilst sorting Cordelia's school things. She wondered how long it would take her mother to realize she wasn't even in the room anymore. She dropped her now useless broom and book onto the floor beside her bed and flopped face down on the mattress, letting out a muffled scream.