Females are strong as hell
The women in your life define you.
You are born kicking and screaming, loud and angry. Your mother's pregnancy was not easy, was just as tough as your birth -- yet a year later you were welcoming a little sister, Meaghan, who taught you how to stand tall, be productive, be smart. But before their is your sister, there is your mother.
Your mother, strong willed and determined, the Chaser and Captain of the Pride's. She lead her team to two league cups, something that is never forgotten, something that is always brought up. Your childhood is full of purple and gold, full of wide eyes as you watched your mother soar above you. You don't want to soar like her however, don't want to soar like your sister does, no, instead you find your highs in the music that plays across the WWN.
Your father was a stout man, even from a young age you heard the whispers -- how could someone like Catriona be married to someone like him, someone so grounded, so logical, so quiet and reserved, someone who liked to drink just a little too much. Your mother was a hero, was a head above the crowd. Your father... was not.
You love your mother.
Yet you are nervous when you first bring music up to her, a young seven year old. Your mother laughs when you ask, but it is not to bring you humiliation, no, it was joy that had her laughter bubbling out of her, a pure delight that you normally only saw when she was high above you in the skies. Your music lessons started the next week.
Your father huffed and puffed about the extra expense, but your mother had a way with him, always did.
After that there were no further questions from your father.
Your mother taught you to chase after your dreams, was your biggest supporter in all things. She defines you before you took your first breathe, molds you to become a dreamer, a chaser, shapes you to be proud.
You are a year old when your sister arrives into your world, small and pink and screaming at the top of her lungs. She clings to your mother, does so even now at eighteen but not in a needy desperate way... Your mother is your hero but she is so much more to Meaghan.
There is a deep seated something that gives you the urge to protect her, stand up for her, watch over her, but she does not need it. She is strong and independent all on her own, has no problem fighting her own fights without your help -- and for that you are thankful because in all honesty you are much more a lover than a fighter.
(Tears sting your eyes after every argument, something that burns your throat.)
The closeness of your age means that you are both best friends and biggest enemies, that you are the tightest of confidants and the worst of competitors. Your sister takes after your mother -- she has the same urge to fly, the same extroverted personality that makes you stand back with wide eyes, awe shining bright.
Meaghan pushes you to be a better person.
She is eleven years old when you are sorted into Ravenclaw. It is one of the first things that you have in common with your father and the thought terrifies you -- but it is the same year that you met your best friend. Suddenly your sister is no longer your closest confident, instead Myron is at the end of all your jokes, all your whispered secrets, the one who you do not hesitate to tell everything to because although you have known each other for what seems like mere moments, the other is obviously the brother you never had, the brother you never knew you wanted.
Your letters home are filled with all the interesting -- and not interesting things -- that you are doing in class. Ravenclaw is not your father, it is far much more than that, and that... You start to flourish, even more so than you did at home. You find friends and dive even further into music; when the rest of your classmates flood into the quidditch stadium you sneak away below and let your fingers dance across the strings of the guitar you managed to convince your mother to send you.
(You save and you save and you save and when you are fourteen, finally old enough to go to the Hogsmeade trips, you grab Myron's arm, force him into the music store with you -- although is it really forcing? -- and buy your own.)
Ada is your first love -- your heart starts to beat faster when you look at her, a happiness blossoming throughout your entire body at the mere sight of her curves and strings.
She is your guitar, yours purely.
She is not perfect, is not the guitar of your famous dreams, but she will always hold a special place in your heart, your favorite instrument to play. Like the rest of the woman in your life, she is constant and steady and you would do anything to ensure that no harm befalls her. For years and years she holds a prominent place in your room, the same pride that shows when your mother, your sister, feels when they see their broom.
Like their brooms, you will come to spend just as much money on your little Ada.
In your youth you do not think that you will ever love anything, anyone, as much as you love Ada. As you grow older you learn what folly this is. You seem to go through puberty later than your classmates, something that is ironic considering you are old for your year, but you are nearly sixteen before you actively start to take an interest in dating. Before then it is simply about the music you can bring to life with Myron, with the select others who stick around while you babble excitedly about chords and notes and the right tone. Myron, Onsino and Heathcote are the lifelines you cling to desperately.
But then you fall in love. And you fall hard and fast, over and over again. You find your relationships do not last long -- you are young still, but your mind is old, you know there is so many bigger things out there for you. You love your girls -- and your boys -- but you will never love anything as much as you love Ada, as much as you love your music. In your sixth year, together with your friends, you form a band, and the quartet of you are happy. Your sound is not perfect, there are still things missing, something that the four of you can agree on, but you try and you work and you give it your all, more than your all. And despite it's imperfections you are happy.
That's when you fall in love again.
She is pretty and funny, and although your eyes always return to the music sheets, to the Weird Sisters, to Ada, it takes a little bit longer than it used to. And that's new. Oh how that is new. And in the blink of an eye it is your seventh year and she is there, saying words like pregnant and baby and yours, words that make your young mind spin, in the blink of your eye the castle is going up in flames, in the blink of an eye your world is changing, turning right upside down.
She doesn't want the baby, something that you understand, something that sometimes you think you echo, sometimes something you don't. With the attack on Hogwarts your entire life is thrown into chaos.
Yet in this chaos you find peace. Sure, you do not graduate school, but suddenly there is endless amounts of hour to devote to the Weird Sisters, suddenly there is nothing keeping the band seeking out the sound they so desperately want, so desperately need to feel right. Before you know it you are welcoming four more members into the group, before you know it you are welcoming the Weird Sisters and it feels right, feels good. Before you know it you are welcoming Cordelia into your life.
Suddenly you have another human being about that you care about more than you care about Ada. Music is still your life, still the pulse of your heartbeat, the blood in your veins, but now Cordelia is there, entwining like she was made just to fit right in. And even in the chaos of your life, you are happy.
The women in your life define you, shape you far more than the men ever could. For this you are thankful, proud. For this you would not change a thing.