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Everyone knew Avery the Viper could have you upside down with your hair falling out and your clothes inside out before you could say Slytherin. You were a fool if you dare challenged her, or insulted anything or anyone she bothered to defend. Some were desperate to be in her good books, to be immune from her wrath and be safe under her iron-clad wing. Others despised her, as she was representative of everything evil in their minds, and if anyone had to be in allegiance with You-Know-Who from that group of snakes, it would be her. The rest feared her, like she was a ticking bomb, about to explode at any moment and destroy everything in her path. But the most disconcerting thing, for friends and foes alike? They only knew half of her identity: as Avery, the daughter of the pureblood, and the girl without a forename.