Raeya was born to two pureblood parents fifteen years ago. Her mother Arella was pressured into a marriage with her father Tristan and then forced to conceive a child. Raeya’s only non-scarring memories of her mother are blurry, not because she was too young to remember, but because her mother was not actively involved in her life. Instead of some variation of ‘Mom’, Arella was just Arella. It was made perfectly clear that she did not want this husband, this child, this life. Looking back, Raeya almost laughs at how blind she and her father were. Arella’s suicide had come as such a surprise to both of them, when really. . . It made more sense than the alternative, living a life she so clearly hated. Raeya was seven when she found her mother hanging from the railing in the foyer of their rather lavish home. She didn’t scream, she didn’t cry. She had just cocked her head to the side and called for her dad. ”Why is Arella hanging from the stairs?
She had asked. She learned the concept of death that day and while she did get kinda sad after, she couldn’t say that she really mourned for Arella. To this day, she often wonders if her mother would have mourned for her, had she died first.
It wasn’t long after learning about the concept of death that she discovered that her dad was a serial murderer, hell bent on destroying all half-bloods. One night, when she was ten, she woke up from a nightmare and went to see her father. Up until that point, she had just seen her father. She didn’t know who he was. Upon pushing his bedroom door open, she saw a lump on the ground. Her vision settled and she realized that it was a person. . . It had been a person. It was just a body now. This time, she screamed. Now, from a young age, her emotions had always set her magic off. As she screamed, things went flying and her dad came rushing in. His face quickly went from concerned to downright terrifying and he lifted her by her nightgown, swearing to her that if she ever breathed a word of this to anyone, she would share the same fate. He dropped her and she fled to her room. She has not been able to associate her father with an emotion other than terror since. She stayed out of his way for the next few months until she finally got her acceptance letter. Slytherin, her father had demanded.
Her trip to diagon alley was actually pretty nice, as her father had taken off to Ollivander’s with the core from his old broken wand and gotten her a custom wand made. She was allowed to shop in peace. He even seemed excited and proud of her. Was it wrong that that made her feel good in some way? Surely, she was crazy right? Who in their right mind cared if their serial killer dad was proud of them? He had insisted on the wand and partially our of fear, but also out of not wanting to be rude, she accepted. She just promised herself that she would be careful.
She had no trouble finding the platform, as her father walked her there. She found an empty car and cried tears of relief the whole way there, things going haywire in her little car. In between sobs, she confessed everything to her long-haired orange cat,
that she had shaved to look like a lion, Mufasa. He would be the last one she had opened up to. When they arrived at the school, they were pulled by Thestral drawn carriages. All of the other students were fascinated by the fact that they were pulled by. . . nothing? Magic, they assumed and she was that odd kid asking everyone. You really can’t see them?! It was in her nature to research things, and she found out that only those who had seen death could see them. Check. She thought.
The Sorting ceremony, supposed to be a joyful experience was a terrifying experience for her. When she sat down, the tears started again and a student had been knocked backwards. Seeing the kid fly backwards, that was the first time she realized she had had her wand in her hand. Not Slytherin! She begged tearfully. The sorting hat had sorted her into Ravenclaw, telling her that she was actually all wrong for Slytherin. She followed her Ravenclaw prefects to the dorms and picked a bed in the corner of the room. A girl had tried to grab the be next to her and she simply glared at her and said no. Word passed on and not one person has tried sleeping there since. She wanted her space, in case she had nightmares. The person next to her could actually get hurt. It was much worse with her temperamental wand, but her emotions set off all kinds of magic. She soon picked the library and the common room whenever empty, as her hangouts. She mainly sat and read. Background noise and bickering students often bothered her and she would butt into their conversations to solve the problem. She had quite a few friends, and people looked to her for advice and logic, despite her demeanor.
Her dad did not like the news of her selected house, and she feared facing him, but she never returned to see him again. A month or so after she had started school, he had been convicted of manslaughter and thrown into Azkaban. No one asked her, and she certainly didn’t offer up information on her father. The authorities didn’t know, but she knew, there had been many personal murders as well as murders done by his cult following. The cult worshipped purebloods and murdered ‘mudbloods’. His threat rang through her head any time she was spoken to about it, and she kept quiet.
In her third year, she began to have what she thought were premonitions of bad things happening. Sometimes she was awake when it happened, and sometimes asleep. They happen very seldom and she keeps them to herself, but keeps an eye out for news. She has yet to have one be a fluke. Little does she know, they are not visions. They are actually thoughts and scenes her father is instilling into her head with his legilimency. He plans to up the ante and drive her completely mad by the time she graduates, to get her to join him.
She was taken in by several different magical foster parents over the years, but they found her too difficult and always returned her. They wanted a child with emotions, that opened up, that talked in a non-sarcastic manner and that was not her. No matter, she only needed a home for the summer anyways. These days, she has many friends, but none that she has confided in. Last year, a male student started stalking her hardcore. He was part of her father’s following, who believed that uniting the two in marriage would cause them to produce some sort of sacred-immortal pureblood that would wipe out all mudbloods once and for all. She didn’t know whether to be terrified, or flattered that her father thought so highly of her in his own way. No amount of protesting or threats seem to deter him and to add onto her heap of troubles, she found out recently that her father may be released within the next year or two on a technicality. With that looming over her head, Raeya does not know who or what to turn to. Her dad still terrifies her to her core.