𝗱𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗴𝗲𝗻𝘁, luna lovegood

two, everything is ariel black's fault

A TIRED SIGH FALLS LOOSELY OUT OF ARIEL'S LIPS AS SHE WALKS TOWARDS THE FRONT DOOR OF HER "HOME" . She fumbles for her keys in her leather jacket; her thoughts about everything fading away.

She quickly unlocks the door as quietly as she can, not wanting to hear her adoptive parent's complaints. She took off her shoes and left them by the door "I do not want to see those disgusting muggle shoes in my house. Leave them at the front door." Mr Wilson had said. She stumbles to her room, trying her absolute best not to trip and fall on her face — again. She places her keys on the tiny, dusty dresser she owned with little clothing. She squints at herself in the vanity mirror, before shrugging off her leather jacket and placing it on her small, but comfortable bed.

She tiptoes into the living room and calls out, "M- Mr. Wilson?"

No response.

"Ceclia?"

Also no response.

Out of both adoptive parents, they both hated her. They obviously have never said that but it was always obvious from their tones and the way they treated her. Though, Ceclia was fairly nice to her sometimes and she understood her — more? The man of the house, Mr Wilson forced her not to call him anything but Mr Wilson, and it was "father" in public. Hell, she didn't even know his first name. It could've been "Rabastan" for all she knew. He had a thin, but intimidating face structure that scared off many. Ariel was raised to hold her head up high around him, perfect posture, to have a lady-like pose every day. He was manipulative and controlling as if he was a special dark curse, forcing into her mind, forcing her to do this or that.

She brushed her dark brown curls away from her grey eyes, and hesitantly crept towards the kitchen of her home, though it wasn't really home to her. Her home was Hogwarts. It was her first and only home she had ever known.

You see, Ariel is not really the type to stay quiet or a shy person. From helping the Weasley twins run around and pulling the most brilliant pranks, to her purple-bubblegum hair she loves wearing everyday (except at her house — the Wilson's house as it wasn't "lady-like"), to her rebel attitude by going as far as smoking inside, or to her always bugging her Head of House, Minerva McGonagall — well "Minnie McG" in Ariel's case, (which would end up with her having to do numerous amounts of detention, but she knew McGonagall secretly loved it).

But at the Wilson's house, she can't be herself. She has to hide the real Ariel Black. She has to mask her confidence and shut up around her adoptive parents, like a ghost.

When she walks into the large, old fashioned kitchen, where Ceclia looked slightly tearful and — hurt? While Mr Wilson looked highly amused, but angry. The fireplace behind them suddenly gave a rumble and she felt herself carry her feet to the large, white dining table, where her adoptive parents were at.

"What's going on?" she asked, again still hesitant because her adoptive parents rarely answer the girl's questions, usually scolding her for asking. She chuckles nervously but curiously, "Seriously, you both look like someone has invited you to Dumbledore's funeral."

She knew the answer couldn't be positive at all. Nothing positive ever happens in the household, and she always wished something, anything would happen and she would genuinely smile. It's like she can feel that something terrible would happen, like it's her secret hidden sense that was hiding from her. Would she be okay by the outcome? She's not sure. Yeah, she's not a Seer, but she always knows. She knew that she was going to be friends with Harry Potter. She knew that she would become a prankster out of the Weasley twins. She knew that she'd be the perfect Quidditch commentator alongside Lee Jordon and together, both of them were bias against all other houses except for their own because they both had the strongest amount of house pride. She knew that she would hate the man called Severus Snape. And she knew that whatever was going to come out of Mr Wilson's mouth, wouldn't be good.