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The sorting ceremony had been completely humiliating. The great hall had fallen deathly quiet, and every eye in the room fixated on her. Normally, Arina would have welcomed the attention, but given the circumstances surrounding her transferral, she was in no mood to for drama or theatrics. It was a rather unusual change of pace for her really. She’d spent the entire thirty seconds it had taken to sort her staring down at her perfectly manicured nails- which she’d rather aptly sharpened to a point. Of course she belonged in Slytherin, her ambition and cunning almost ensured it.

Through the sea of eyes, she’d been able to locate those of her brothers; they were somehow both softer and brighter than the rest. She wondered how much her father had told him about the events that had transpired over the past few weeks. Though she was certain he knew enough to satisfy his curiosity, she was still bursting to fill him in on the specifics. She’d been able to focus on nothing else since the event- it occupied her every waking thought. It’d all hit a little too close to home, even if the Aurors had completely missed the mark with their questioning. All that mattered is that they knew something; their father was on their radar now. The thought alone was enough to make her skin crawl.

The feast was followed by an entire day of menial classes. Though the girl recognised a few of her classmates, and gracefully greeted them as necessary, she spent the majority of her day killing time, counting down the hours until she could meet with her brother. Somehow, watching the clock seemed to make time move slower… as if she were trudging through cement, or navigating her way through a haze. Everything was moving at snails pace.

By the time Arina found her way to the common room at the end of the day, she was spent. Her body ached, and her usually upbeat demeanour had begun to falter- her true, sour intentions were beginning to seep through. With a creased brow and aching bones, she collapsed onto the questionably designed sofa- somehow maintaining perfect posture and poise. Sighing, she looked down at her nails once again. She’d chipped them. God, what a perfect end to a perfect day. It seemed her time at Hogwarts was already off to a horrific start.

Running the tip of her wand across her fingertips, she whispered a correction spell beneath her breath. While the girl had many spells committed to memory, concealment charms and correction spells were certainly among her favourites. Anything that helped her maintain appearances whilst also saving her energy was more than appreciated. For, while she might’ve been graced with natural beauty and grace, a clean cut image was something she still worked to maintain. It took an unhealthy amount of patience to paint on her face in the morning, and lay out outfits in the evening. Some might’ve even called it a talent. Although by this point, the Drozdov girls could do it in their sleep- they had been conditioned from a young age to play the part of perfect pureblood ladies.

Looking up from her nails, a genuine smile graced the young witch’s lips. It was an uncommon but welcome surprise- her smiles were usually forced. “Grisha!” she squealed, relief and excitement thick on her tongue. After such a long, strenuous day, she couldn’t have been happier to make her brothers company.

@Grigoriy Drozdov
Da clothes