At the little parties that her parents drag her to, Pansy doesn't quite fit in. She's too little, too shy, and the other children group off, shutting her out.

Usually, she doesn't mind being alone. Her parents are always too busy with work and wealth to bother with the child, so Pansy spends most of her days in her room with only toys for company. But it's a party, and no one is supposed to be alone at parties.

Pansy tucks her dark hair behind her ears, keeping her chin up. She won't cry, even if their rejection hurts, because Mummy says only babies cry, and, at six and a half, Pansy is a big girl.

A boy sits off in the corner, hidden in shadows, keeping his distance from the rest of the room. Once, her mother had pointed him out to her. Someone Nott. "Strange boy, but an excellent family," she'd told Pansy. "You'd do well to make friends with him."

The girl walks over to him, all shy smiles and nervous squirming. She's a big girl, a brave girl. It's what Mummy and Daddy expect of her.

"I'm Pansy."

The Nott boy watches her for a moment, his expression bored and maybe annoyed. "Aren't pansies flowers?"

Pansy nods excitedly, a broad grin stretching her lips. "Yup!"

"Flowers are s'post to be pretty. Why are you ugly?"

Pansy blinks, letting the insult sink in. Tears prick her eyes, but big girls don't cry. Big girls do, however, punch stupid boys in their stupid faces, and that's exactly what Pansy does.