“Must I narrow it down to just one? My plethora of successes is only second to my sizable collection of dragonskin loafers. Wand to head, if I had to provide a selection, I would respond with the recent publication of my novel — closely followed by my near-perfect rendition of Celestina Warbeck’s greatest hits. At the risk of sounding anything less than humble, I’ve been told I have the voice of an angel.”
Do you feel stuck in someone’s shadow?
“On the contrary, Miss Black! I’m inclined to believe my own shadow is far too vast to be contained by any measure.”
If you could live one day as someone else, who would you choose?
“There are certain members of the wizarding community who hold keys to entryways I’ve yet to discover. While I’d hate to part from my own likeness for even a moment, the promise of access behind those doors is a temptation unlike any other. Make no mistake, I am very secure in own abilities, but knowledge continues to be my ultimate vice.”
Coy smiles, french nails, rose petals, leather-bound planners, and 24k gold rings. Posh as expected when your mothers are both fashionable witches, Estella dominates the cover of Witch Weekly with weekly candids. With a closet filled with the latest couture and a vanity stocked with beauty products, Estella is pristine. Never a hair out of place nor a wrinkle in sight. Hailed the Venus of Hogwarts, she enchants the room and demands the spotlight from all.
Personality
Estella prides herself in her name, receiving everything she wanted in life out of pure determination. The proud product of two prominent Pureblood lineage, she moves with ease and grace through the halls of Hogwarts. Ever bit the golden girl destiny defined, Estella was a fatal trinity of brains, brawn, and beauty. Her ambition never came out of hubris, rather out of truth she would argue. She’s quick-witted (argumentative almost) when it came to defending her opinions, but victory always looked best on her. Almost as good as her shoes that costed more than your house. A high achiever with high standards, she is pure elegance and ambition. Unlike her mothers, Estella is expressive having no issue with cutting to the point with sharp bluntness. Life was too short to be petty or indecisive. Though at the end of the day, Estella was the girl everyone knew, but never the girl anyone could truly ever have or understood. She was hers, first and foremost. Where’s the excitement if everyone knew all of her cards?
Special Talents
A prodigy of Herbology and Potions, she has improved her mother’s old potions recipes. Although she has no need for the money, Estella has started a small-scale business selling her potions to her classmates. All of her profits being donated to a charity of course. The support of her peers’ isn’t enough to support her exquisite taste after all, but it does win her points for Head Girl which was rightfully hers from the first day.
Who they like better
A question she refused to answer.
Who they take after more
She’s a lethal combination of both. Or a winning combination as she likes to say.
Personal Headcanon
Ruining Estella’s shoes is a death sentence. As revenge for ruining her shoes, she once tricked her aunt into taking away Draco’s toy broomstick. He was four.
Estella and her moms can’t ever stay in a small house, because they all take way too long getting ready. Thank god, they’re loaded and they each have their own bathroom.
She’s terrible with animals and avoids being near them so that nobody knows the truth.
She poisoned the son of the French Minister after he tried to grope her at a Ministry. Not that anyone can prove anything. Estella was always five steps ahead.
Amelia is still surprised her daughter’s a Slytherin.
If there was one thing Lily hated about her job, it was the lack of control. She had opinions and she was used to them being heard. Unfortunately, her supervisors at the Prophet normally didn’t give two shits about said opinions, and it wasn’t unusual for Lily to leave the office in a huff, like she had today. After losing a rather bitter battle over the direction of coverage for tomorrow’s issue (in which one of Ted’s hard-hitting investigative pieces had been tabled in favor of what Lily considered tabloid fodder), she’d decided to indulge in retail therapy at Flourish & Blotts.
If she’d been asked later why she’d done the thing she’s about to do, she wouldn’t have been able to answer. The pain of losing her argument had mixed with her strict moral compass to create an emotion partially altruistic and partially vengeful, one strong enough to apparently override the self-preservation instinct that told Lily to keep far away from the Black sisters. “Excuse me,” she marched up to Andromeda, thankful she’d caught her alone (at least for the moment). “Sorry. I just thought I’d give you a heads-up that there’s going to be a rather unflattering article about you in tomorrow’s Prophet.”
ISABELLA: what would the name of your autobiography be?
❝ Cynicism: The Art of Dick Jokes ❞
MARY: when was the last time you felt afraid?
❝ I’m not sure I have a valid answer to this question. About seven, maybe six. It was before my mother started to teach me the spells I used to defend myself from my father. ❞
REGULUS: you’re stranded on a desert island, what three people would you bring along?
Amelia tilted her head up from the letter they received to look at Andromeda. She looked at the woman before her, the one she developed a fondness for over the past months of late conversations and wine. An unexpected outcome, but one she would forever be thankful for. “Then we’ll fight them off till we reach the safe house.” She stretched her lips into the smile; the one reserved for Andromeda, a kindred soul in the war. “We’ll protect each other,” she barely registered her promise to Andromeda. She didn’t even hear it slip out of her mouth. Amelia only knew because of the alien weight of the words and the emotion following it. A now foreign emotion that belonged to who she was before her parents passed away and the war started.
“What gave it away?” he laughed, taking in the utter mess of his kitchen. The cake was supposed to be a surprise for Matthias’ birthday, however the burnt remains laying on the counter looked as appealing as dragon dung. “Normally, I would ask the house-elf to do it, but I then started wondering how hard could it truly be to bake a cake. This stays between us, Andromeda.”
"Don’t let me die"/ "What if someone catches us?” / "Why yes, I am as think as you drunk I am."
"Don’t let me die"
Flashes of that first night when he found her in an alley way came back into his memory. She was weak and cold, muttering something that would later come to light in a dark and sinister way. He had held her in his arms like he did now, but he was the one who whispered, I won’t let you die to soothe her. Ted brushed a strand of hair away from her face, caressing her cheek as he squeezed her tighter, ‘ I won’t. ’
"What if someone catches us?”
He let his head hang down in thought. What would he do if someone catches them? If someone found Andromeda in his home, knowing what information she could already have told Dumbledore’s forces, would he run? Fight? Cower for mercy? No, this was bigger than him and his sense of security now. It was war, and everyone has a role in it whether they want it or not. His was to make sure Andromeda stayed alive until the end. ‘ If someone comes, ’ he started, reaching out for her hand and looking at her with solemn eyes, ‘ I want you to run. I need you to run, to the Bones’ or Sirius’ or even to a villa in France where you can contact someone from the Order. And when you do, don’t worry about me. ’
"Why yes, I am as think as you drunk I am."
He laughed along with her, tilting the remaining contents of his glass into his mouth. Ted had come home to find Andromeda half a bottle of gin deep with one of his Bowie records playing. Her only response to what are you doing was better catch up, and with every pour she gave him, he knocked back with a slight wince. Their dancing had turned into conversation, her suggesting a game of sharing information with one another. ‘ Well, it sounds childish, ’ he placed the glass on the coffee table, ‘ but we might as well get to know each other if we’re to live together, hm ? ’
