| 1863 | I was the third child born to my parents, and the second daughter. At the time, my father was the assistant head of some Ministry department or another, and my mother, his dutiful wife. We lived near London but not in it, as my mother did not care for the bustle of the city. All in all it was quite the ordinary existence.
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| 1866 | Three years later to the day, my brother came into this world and my mother left it. My earliest memory has me dressed for mourning clutching at my sister's hand.
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| 1867 - 1874 | The years that follow prove to be as ordinary as those that preceded it, punctuated by the occasional loss of an aunt on my mother's side (she had been the eldest of ten daughters; not a son in the bunch). Each of us children performed our first act of magic during this time, and it came as little surprise when I received my letter to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
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| Autumn 1874 - Summer 1879 | At Hogwarts, I was sorted into Gryffindor, and for the first time, my curiosity was encouraged rather than chastised by a well-meaning governess. I proved quickly to be a capable and enthusiastic student. In my third year, I added Ghoul Studies and Earth Magic to my roster of courses, but it was in Care of Magical Creatures that I truly found my passion. When my OWL results arrived, I received not a single grade below an E, and was eager to pursue my NEWT studies.
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| Autumn 1879 - Summer 1881 | It was three weeks into the start of term when it happened: my sister Patience, who had always been troubled, perished. It was handled sensitively by the school in that the other students were simply told she took suddenly ill, but, a keen potions student, she was not unfamiliar with simple poisons. It was at her funeral that I became aware for the first time: my father's side of the family, thriving. My mother's side, only my grandfather and some cousins with their fathers; not a woman over thirty-five.
When I returned to Hogwarts, I was... unfocused upon my studies. Instead, I poured my vigor for academia into genealogy, my late grandmother's bible and an overworked owl as my tools of the trade. Tracing back six generations, I could not find a single woman in my maternal line who had lived to forty. It was a revelation. It was one of my professors, Professor Darrow, who helped me to right my course at the end of the sixth year: for the first time ever, I had failed a class and would not be able to repeat the pattern in my seventh year. I had purpose now, though: if I could not live a long life, I must live a good life, and for me, that meant achieving.
I completed my NEWTs in much the same way as my OWLs and attended my first Season. Unlike my elder sister, though, I did not take a husband this year, though not for lack of an offer. I realized that, with only so much life to live, I must live it to the fullest.
So I left.
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| Autumn 1881 - Spring 1893 | In my travels, I indulged my love of magical creatures, working as a research assistant, a researcher in my own right, a (legal!) dealer, a translator. I planted my feet upon six continents, became an animagus, loved (twice), and wrote voraciously to my siblings, though I did not return to Britain for more than a decade. In the spring of 1893, however, I received the news I knew would come that year, but that I had dreaded nonetheless: Harriet had died. It was, of all things, a bee sting. She was to be thirty-six in October.
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| 1893 | Returning home for the funeral, I found that I had missed my family more than I knew. I was able to take a position for the coming term at Hogwarts, and would reside with my eldest brother in Hogsmeade until then.
I have, by all evidence, perhaps five years left. |
