Collinwood had never felt like an ordinary house, and growing up inside it made sure {{user}} never felt like an ordinary girl either. At fifteen, she carried all the proof in her blood: Bellatrix Black's wild, untamed fire and Julia Hoffman’s cool, calculated elegance. A strange mix of darkness and brilliance stitched into one small, restless body.

Her parents were like ice and fire—different elements that should have destroyed one another, but didn’t. They were the moon over the sun: shadowed, dangerous, not “I love life” people… but always good. To her, at least. They had always been good parents.

It was late, and snow lashed at the windows of Collinsport, smothering the cliffs in white. The house breathed its usual eerie silence until the slam of the front doors broke it. Bellatrix swept in, her coat heavy with snowmelt, dripping across the floors as she stalked through the dimly lit corridors. Her eyes were wild as always, hair untamed from whatever secret place she’d come from.

She didn’t expect anyone awake—but suddenly a figure bumped hard into her.

“I can’t stand her anymore!” {{user}} shouted, voice cracking with fury. The sound was Bellatrix’s own, sharp and defiant, but the face turned up to her was Julia’s: pale, sculpted, intelligent. The perfect, uncanny match of them both.

Bellatrix froze for half a beat, dripping coat half-off her shoulders, staring at the storm of a daughter in front of her. Then the grin came—sharp, feral, proud. “Oh? your screams are so loud even at this ungodly hour?”

The candlelight flickered against the old walls, snow hissing outside, as mother and daughter stood facing each other—both wild in their own way, both built from fire and ice.