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DEEP IN THE GRIMM FOREST stood an old, grand castle, and in that castle lived a family.
It had been built centuries ago, by the first Lancaster matriarch, Iris Lancaster the First, named for the lovely clusters of cyclamens that grew along the castle's stone-hewed walls.
Lining the halls were hundreds and dozens of paintings; some of them were of the most remarkable Lancaster of their time, dripping with pearls and diamonds or clad in impeccable suits, but most of them were very, very special. They moved, and talked, and like all magical paintings, they had quite a lot to say.
In the main wing, by the large windows facing the lake, were the family portraits; generations of Lancasters who had grown up in the same home for over half a century would, even in their death, serve as watchful guardians over the halls, and all those that resided up in it.
In the halls of that castle was where the Lancaster siblings grew up together. The same halls that had witnessed their father grow up saw young Calix, the Lancaster's firstborn, welcome his brother Ezio, dark hair and bright-eyed just like their father, and eventually a little squalling bundle of cornsilk hair and ruddy cheeks; their only sister, into the world. They saw him grow from a quiet, serious child into the long-suffering oldest son who watched over his siblings and even participated in their childish games even if he said he wasn't going to.
Protective and cautious, even after the war had ended, Perseus and Ianthe Lancaster rarely, if ever took their precious child away from the safety of the family grounds, protected by century old wards and fiercely loyal house elves.
So like her brothers, little Althaia been hidden away like a precious gem since the day she was born. She spent her childhood running around the only home she had ever known, exploring all the tiny alcoves and secret rooms the Cyclamen Castle had hidden in almost every corner.
But unlike her brothers, she had no desire to leave. After all, why would she?
There was always something to do; help mother in her greenhouse, explore another old corridor, brush down the Abraxans in the stables, or curl up somewhere by a window with a book for a few hours. And though she rarely left Cyclamen Castle, her friends came over to play every week. If she ever felt lonely or bored in the meantime, she had her reluctant, but always kind brothers to play with her in between classes.
Then Calix turned eleven, and he left for Hogwarts. But at least Althaia had Ezio. With Calix away, Ezio's interest in running around exploring secret rooms and sneaking into their father's study waned, and he turned his almost manic energy to what he had always been fascinated by; magical research. They settled into a different kind of calm, with Ezio buried deep in his tomes and Althaia with her dolls and books. She'd just settled into the comfort of their new routine when two years passed. Then as Calix's voice began to crack and he started complaining of growing pains, Ezio left for Hogwarts too.
Suddenly, it was just Althaia, with her mother and father, and her friends who visited every week, and her books. Then she started to understand why they wanted to leave so much. The castle was awfully big when there was no one around to play with.
But Althaia discovered it wasn't all bad. She began baking with the house elves in the kitchen after her lessons, and she would curl up with mother in the drawing room with a book or some embroidery while her father played chess against himself after dinner. She'd never realised how exhausted she had been all the time until she had some peace and quiet to herself.
And like magic, her brothers came back home with stories of adventures they whispered to Althaia out of their mother's earshot just when she felt too lonely, and it was like they never left. And when the dreary Wales weather lightened up every once in a while, they would pack for a picnic under the grove of oak trees by the lake, a tradition that had started even before Althaia could even remember. Calix started to bring his friends over in his third year, and despite their initial wariness, they had grown used to Althaia's presence. That year was coincidentally when they started playing the lazy wizard's version of Quidditch, which just mostly consisted of tossing the Quaffle around on their broomsticks and making ridiculous, dangerous dives for the snitch that made their mother's anxiety go haywire.
Though she felt unbearably lonely at times, Althaia could only remember the good things; father called her his princess, and always indulged in her sudden whims and mother sung them sweet lullabies when they were too scared to sleep (though Ezio fervently denied it ever happening). Most of all she felt loved. It was a childhood that Althaia would forever think back fondly on.
It was like this that she grew up, with sunshine, laughter and gold. A fairytale, people would say as they rounded the curve of the path, admiring the creeping ivy and the immaculate, sweeping grounds, as beautiful as it was magical. But then she turned eleven and went to Hogwarts. And then she woke up from that dream.
