Mother had always wanted Daphne and I to marry well. Draco Malfoy was the boy that was the prize in our generation; Theo Nott a supposed second, anyone else from a Sacred 28 family, then a halfblood (very pure sort of halfblood) that was in any house but Gryffindor. Gryffindor was a house among many that my mother used to say didn't matter, when houses were just places you dormed in for some odd years of Hogwarts, a colour one wore to a Quidditch game, a series of sounds you said when someone asked you which one you were in. Except those comments were of a bygone era, and in the recent years all of mother's comments were that even though Hogwarts houses were supposed to be neutral, their values tended to reflect one's political views at current. That Slytherin was where all the people who cared for the preservation of the wizarding world went.

All the people who cared for preservation of old wizarding traditions, of shaping the future in a way that benefitted the magical kind. That Gryffindor was were people who had new and unstable political views came forth. That she had never seen a single person who didn't love mudbloods go through Gryffindor (it was seen as rebelling against the old established order of magic being on top that the Slytherins agreed with), or anyone in Slytherin who didn't worry about the wizarding world's own self-preservation.

Gryffindor became like a curse and a stigma in our household, in many pureblood households who considered themselves to be the last barriers keeping out the muggles and us to be the only ones practicing our traditions and shaping the future of magical kind for so long. It was forbidden to date a Gryffindor, but all other houses could potentially hold good husbands.

Good husbands didn't come by if a wife wasn't pretty, and to my dismay mother focused intensely on Daphne and I's looks. Perhaps it had something to do with her own looks. Tall, skinny but generously endowed, curly blonde hair and heart-shaped face. She was a beauty of her generation. Her looks won her entrance to the Greengrass family, and probably other men if she didn't pick father to be the best, and so she measured us by the only yardstick she knew how.

But it wasn't a competition. Daphne had been blessed with mother's looks but somehow a little thinner and with a slimmer face, looking more serious like our father with his handsome angular features. Whereas mother looked heartwarming, Daphne seemed to radiate a sort of ice-queen coldness that made her so much more seductive than mother could ever be when she came of age. I was taller than average but still short, a brunette that matched my mother's more solemn looks more, and Daphne's hair always had a bouncier curl than mine ever did.

It seemed awfully funny, the way our genetics had split, but due to that split, there was no doubt who the prettiest sister was. My mother regarded my looks awkwardly. Never taking pride in me the same way she took pride in Daphne, but yet not considering me ugly either. Certainly prettier than the other mudbloods, filth and halfbloods as I could practically see her spit when she thought no one was listening and she could be free with her thoughts. And in some way, mother tried to make me prove it. She always made sure I dressed up enough to 'strike envy in the other girl's hearts' whenever we met, always stocking me up with the most expensive (as much as our budget would allow) or extravagant dresses and then pretending like it was so casual, and that we didn't care to dress up.

When I was younger, I lavished in looking pretty. It was not hard to look prettier than most other girls when you did have some wealth and your mother had a thing or two to prove. But I was always torn between liking my looks and the effect it gave (I certainly did get some compliments and probably did inspire a few crushes in some boys...insignificant to me at that time...). Torn between wanting to wield it as a weapon, my weapon, to turn it into something more, or possibly to go another direction in life and pick another attribute of myself to count on saving me when times became dire.

It wasn't hard for me to turn my back on my looks. For I was also, perhaps unfortunately, rather intelligent.

You would think purebloods were intelligent. That it was how we got our place in society. That we were secret Ravenclaws at heart.

I spent hours reading books in the Greengrass library; ignoring the gnashing thunderstorm outside, even when it thundered and it would've scared any other girl, just to reach the end of a good book. The way a part of the world seemed illuminated in crystal clear clarity because I understood the contents of books beyond my age. The fact that when I tried some of the ancient magic described within the books - runes, chalk circles, superstitions, not always anything requiring a wand or any real magic, but just, magical activities all the same, my deeper understanding flowed through, and for the first time in my life I felt like I could change something of the world.

The fact that when I was 7 and it was my birthday I'd asked my mother for some books - historical classics on monarchies in the muggle world. Something that seemed just about classy enough I thought she may overlook the fact that they were muggles (my mother mostly hated mudbloods coming into the wizarding world the most, she seemed to like flicking through muggle magazines of rich muggles in lavish mansions just like I did), that I learnt that intelligence had no place in the Slytherin house of glory.

"Too expensive. I could get you a beautiful necklace of real pearls with it," said my mother as she took one look at the books from the catalogue I was pointing at.

"Knowledge is exquisite," I tried to argue.

"Silly girl. Everyone knows people only get places due to secrets and politics," said my mother lazily, "the wizest of all professors is wrapped around the finger of those who knows their deepest darkest secret. Know someone's deepest secret...and you have them in the palm of your hand."

"What if I don't want to get by by blackmailing people with their secrets?" I said. I'd grown up around mother occasionally saying similar things - Daphne too though at that age it was hard to tell if she was just repeating what mother said, or whether it had truly grown to be a part of her yet. But yet some part of me did not wish for the Slytherin adolescence I could very well imagine, trapped within those Hogwarts walls for 7 years with them.

"Silly girl. As if we got anywhere in our life without it," said my mother, flashing her teeth at me as she sneered them. I'd forgotten how menacing she'd looked when she did that. Usually she was the picture of perfection and glory.

"God Astoria. What are you? 7?" Daphne rolled her eyes at me.

I resisted the urge to say I actually was. Knowing this was her way of getting at me. As if making me admit I was stupid.

"Only my little sister has the stupidity to think anyone actually gets anywhere in life on knowledge!" Daphne cackled into the mirror she was talking to. Instead of her face being reflected on the pane of silver it was Pansy. It was one of those expensive magical mirrors that showed your friend in real time on the other end and mother always said if it was broken she wouldn't be buying us another one Daphne had to be very careful with it. Not me for I never really had that many friends to call. Daphne had always been the social butterfly out of the two of us.

For the next few days Daphne laughed with Pansy over my weakness, my idiocy, that my childish naivetey admitted.

After that, I'd kept quiet about it, and fell into the Slytherin way. I was still smart, achingly so, I seemed to absorb books like they were nothing, my memory was flawless when it came to stuff like that, but yet...I lacked the magic to cast them. Or would soon. I ended up knowing the wizarding world and the secrets behind magic so well, but acting like a squib. What a queer position to be in. Because I knew the secrets of magic so well, I was able to fake being a squib. And that was also when I truly leaned into my Slytherin side in order to find people's secrets and manipulate them so they wouldn't notice the fact that I had no magic at all.

For some reason; people loved to confide in me. I was mocked and ridiculed from time to time, but somehow seen as someone 'safe' to confide in. Safer than most. And that was when I realised most people couldn't be trusted - ever.

The first person that breached my trust was my sister Daphne. I had always known she was perfect in almost every single way. Perfect looks, perfect position in society, perfect popularity, and I had always thought of her to be in love with the life that she led. To savour each and every waking moment because it was always hers to kill. Except for one evening at a ball where something had happened to make my perception of her waiver.

The stars were looking gorgeous that night. They lit up the ballroom through the large glass panes of the windows were I could glimpse them from the small balcony on the second floor overlooking the ballroom of the Greengrass Manor, the rest of the beige-coloured ballroom was bathed in swathes of lightness from the merrily twinkling chandelier (mother's charms), and lit up the dark green curtains in pretty dappled light as I clung to them, peeking out at the scene from the balcony.

"The men making you weak at the knees?" Daphne's sneer bought me out of my short-lived silence. These balls served many functions in pureblood society, to show of our wealth, to show of our lifestyle, to cement family ties, to announce grand news, to discuss business, and most importantly as mother would say - for us to find a husband. I used to wonder how any unwed pureblood children would possibly enjoy them, with the expectations to judge all members of the sex you were attracted to so harshly, especially when we were just children, and rank them in terms of who we wished to marry and already scheme our way into an engagement by their hand, or to weave ourselves into their families and lives.

I was 10 when mother slept with Theo's widowed father and made the arrangement for my marriage to him (to which I ardently wished I could get out of, in any way possible), but I had been 8 then, Daphne was 10. And that was an age when I sensed the fear of marriage and courtship ever so strongly, associated with these balls.

"Everybody knows you will be giving the most trouble to the most troublesome men to get," I told Daphne. It had always been what our grandparents, aunts and uncles subconsciously thought of her. If anything the biggest drama, gossip or scandals would blossom when Daphne truly became of engagement age. I already knew there were pureblood boys (and sly halfblood boys) dying to court her and marry into our family. She must've been coy at keeping them away for how little boy trouble she already received when we were in mixed company with the other pureblood kids at times, and I saw that she was able to hang with the boys, but yet walk away without anyone she didn't want hanging after her, to a degree that even bested my own expectations.

"You're not so innocent either. You're the second most wanted girl after me. Due to your association to me. We're like a set," hissed Daphne, then she fiddled with my hair a little wistfully, "it's such a pity we don't look alike. I would've loved striking fear into the hearts of all our competition by the beautiful Greengrass sisters. Imagine the world we would've captivated at our feet if we-"

"We'll be the biggest whores of the wizarding world," I spat, glaring at her. Daphne didn't often touch me but all of a sudden her hands on my hair felt very suffocating, her insinuation that I approached courtship or the idea of marriage in the same way as her felt very stifling indeed. Suddenly I wished her hands were of my hair but my accidental magic was already fading and didn't work as much as it used to so even my imagination of it coming out like so wasn't very distracting from the night.

"Girls! There is no need for such language!" came our mother's voice but I noted that she did not disagree with us. She then placed her arms around our shoulders, forcing us to look at each other and smile cordially, "you will both go and have a splendid night. There are some important families over here, and lots of boys already of status your age for you to meet. And Daphne, there are a few boys whose families I told especially about you and your achievements. I believe you already have a lot of interests and hobbies in common with them..." mother was zoning in on Daphne because she was the older one I suspected.

Although we were two years apart Daphne was one of the tallest girls for her age whereas I was a little above average, so we seemed even more far apart than we actually were. Mother draped an arm around Daphne, she was dressed in a beautiful dark purple dress with poofy shoulders and long-sleeves, and had her hair done up beautifully with pearls and lace. She always looked the best for these nights. Darkness fell on Daphne's face as she was lead away from the night of the balcony and towards the corridors that would lead to the stairs and then the ballroom. She closed her mouth and for the first time I saw perhaps a bit of fear and nervousness in them, but it was very slight.

"Yes mother," Daphne said perfectly, but somehow with a tinge of regret there I could just about pick up, before she turned and followed mother down the corridor.

"Astoria you too," snapped mother and I quickly followed suite.

I couldn't read what was in Daphne's mind and it would've all been my imagination, but ever since then I sometimes wondered what it was like to be Daphne. To really be Daphne. And have all the expectations of being the most attractive pureblood girl of our generation put on her shoulders. She was prettier than Pansy and Millicent by the majority of people's agreements. To be expected to be perfect. To have met all these expectations thus far. To feel like she ought to become even bigger or better than what she was. To have to marry well. Did Daphne ever express her happiness at the expectation to marry well as part of being a pureblood Sacred 28? We had grown up so swamped in that idea ever since we were little kids I wasn't sure if I ever heard her say it herself, or whether it was all mother's talk that painted the picture of our future pathways doing that.

For the first time in my life, remembering back to Daphne's closure of her mouth, her tiny bit of regret at leaving the balcony, a part of me doubted if Daphne truly loved her position in life at all.

That night wouldn't have been memorable except for when mother began telling me of for things I didn't do and didn't know of.

"Astoria, what were you doing out in the gardens at dusk? You will catch such a terrible cold!" Mother said about a week later. Daphne was missing and in her room - probably studying or practicing music or dance, some of the other activities we did. We weren't always together.

"I wasn't out-" I tried to say.

"And what? I'm seeing things?" Mother gave me such a strong glare I remained silent for the rest of the evening.

"Astoria! I wanted your laundry here at 10am, which is already quite late. In fact, it's about time you learn how to do the washing yourself. Oh-you can't do it," mother said. There was a lot of magic that went on around the place for everyday ordinary things. Even though Daphne and I couldn't cast any before we went to Hogwarts we could still use some of our own magic to use the magical tools and items lying around.

"I'd try to learn as much as possible even without magic," I said. I had never backed down from any opportunity to learn magic seeing as it was something I wouldn't have anymore soon.

That seemed to content mother but I did notice that I had never made any promises to give her the laundry earlier but the way she said it, it was almost as if I'd said something to her about having it at that time?

Those were small things that stood out in the otherwise mundane sea of events. However, it wasn't until one day when my hair curlers disappeared - Daphne's hair tended to curl smaller than mine did. Mine was mostly straight, if perhaps a little bit wavy sometimes. Mother used to remark how they were both attractive curls in different ways and bought us different hair curlers, but sometimes we wanted to use each other's. Or well, sometimes Daphne got curious about what it was like to have long wavy hair and took mine from my bathroom without asking. Daphne's hair was curlier when she was a kid, it was straighter now.

I instinctively knew where they were ever since I saw they were missing and crept towards Daphne's room to retrieve them. She would know I took them back just as I knew she took them without asking me. Daphne didn't really ask me if she wanted anything done because she wasn't considerate of anyone. Pansy was probably the only person Daphne treated as an equal or above her, Millicent an equal, myself lower down and everyone else worse for the most part. She wasn't considerate to anyone lower than me on her totem pole of people.

However, it was as I was leaving the bathroom that I heard a noise and saw a bit of shadow creep across her bedroom. I quickly retreated back into her bathroom. Behind the shower cubicle, the shower curtains were a thin light pink that if Daphne had entered the bathroom she would immediately recognise the sight of me. I held my breath and was already preparing an excuse to utter if Daphne were to find me here, when Daphne walked across the floor of her room with her back towards me and my heart almost leapt out of my throat.

It was Daphne's gait. Her walk. I could recognise it from a mile away. Daphne always walks with a slight upwards spring somehow, as if she was still optimistic after all she had been born into. It was an upwards tick that I hadn't seen in many other people and very slight. Something only a sister could recognise becauase we'd walked together sometimes. But yet it was her walk in my body. For I had just glimpsed a brunette the exact same height as me, with the exact same curls as me, walk around the room, seemingly busy in some task.

I saw the brunette girl touch her curls a few times, with a sort of satisfaction to checking them out as she curled them around her finger. As if it was one of her first times having this curl. That's when I knew that it had been relatively recently Daphne was using polyjuice to look like me for she had borrowed my hair curler a while back, it had only been that day I found out, and that she had possibly been pretending to be me for a long time. Suddenly all the memories of mother getting cross at me for things I didn't do or say made sense.

I did not believe Daphne masqueraded as me solely to do things to get me in trouble, although I imagine it may have been something she did. But rather, my first thought was that she simply did not like being herself, and wanted to be anybody but herself, but still someone she wouldn't think was completely beneath her feet, and had gotten good at stealing locks of my hair. It wasn't particularly hard. My hair was probably all over the house if one looked hard enough.

Luckily Daphne did not go to the bathroom. Perhaps she didn't feel comfortable doing so as someone else. It was one of the things about polyjuice. A lot of people used it for special purposes and avoided highly intimate moments under it as someone else. But after that...when I had left her room and been safely back in mine, I had no doubt it was polyjuice. That was the only thing that would allow her to resume my form. Where would she have gotten the polyjuice from? Not herself for I knew Daphne was not particularly studious, not that she wasn't intelligent, but she didn't care.

Did she trick someone else into doing it for her? Was that what she was going to do at Hogwarts? Trick people into doing things for her she didn't want? Although I had never seen it in action I suspected Daphne was good at coiling men around her finger. Wizards skilled enough to brew a polyjuice potion included. It was not particularly hard to brew if you followed a set of instructions. The instructions were just tedious, the ingredients expensive and the idea offputting to many, but it was not exactly undocumented magic. I could imagine someone who hadn't graduated from Hogwarts, still within our age-range, be tricked into giving Daphne a small, for whatever excuse she so coyly and beautifully lied about.

Did she shoplift? Daphne always struck me as a little street smart. It wouldn't surprise me if she did.

I had no recourse to say anything about it. No one would be able to enforce Daphne didn't do it again for no one knew her methods of how she was getting the polyjuice potion. If mother forbade Daphne to, Daphne would just figure out some other way to do it or get better at her old method of getting polyjuice. I couldn't find it out for even I didn't think I could possibly follow Daphne around that closely to see, especially as she may have only gotten new stock once in a few months or perhaps she only did so in a blue moon. I had the feeling it was the sort of thing she would do in a very very blue moon.

And perhaps it was better to simply let her do it. Let her think I didn't know. So she didn't get any better at her tricks. To use as blackmail. I could only imagine the look on her face if she were to realise I knew.

Although I could imagine Daphne using polyjuice to disguise as people for other reasons as she got older. At that age, I just had the strongest feeling she simply wanted to be somebody else for a day.

That was when I started suspecting Daphne did not totally like herself or her position in life half as well as I'd previously imagined my older sister to.

After that, I didn't trust anyone. Or the pureblood families and our supposed happiness. Or anything again.

And that was only the start of other people's grim and dark secrets I was finding out.