Despite how the legends seemed to paint Morgana Le Fay to be cruel and heartless, she truly did care for her devotes and followers. So much so that she had created a guild just for them.
The Sisterhood was known for its secrecy, power and for being...
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----------------------> THE STONED WALL WAS COOL TO LEAN AGAINST but Sofia didn't mind. As someone who had grown up in the little town of Mouthe, located in the Jura mountains of France; coldness, especially in the winter season, felt like second-nature to her. Hera and herself had ventured out of the Guest Corridor intending to explore Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry roughly three hours ago. Unfortunately, somewhere along the way, they had gotten lost and them being them, were stubborn and egotistical enough to not ask for directions.
Somehow, they had ended up in the dungeons, if the cool, dark and damp atmosphere was anything to go by. The corridor that they were on showed no signs of life beside them, making Hera frown. Just as she was about to cast a direction charm to shine some light on the labyrinth of twists, turns and hallways; light footsteps echoed along the walls of the nearly vacant corridor, making Hera and Sofia swivel towards the source— a young boy whose face contained all the bleak horror of a martyr.
"Where is he going?" Sofia asked curiously.
"To battle a dragon, based on his expression," Hera noted.
Sofia glanced at her through the corner of her eyes. "Do you want to find out?"
"Of course, I do." Hera stopped the boy as he neared them. He was pudgy, with blond hair and blue eyes who gazed at her with wide, fearful eyes. Smiling down at him, Hera spoke softly. "Hello, there. I'm Hera and this lovely lady beside me is Sofia." —Sofia tossed him a wave— "What's your name?"
"Y-you are p-part of the Sisterhood." Was what the boy stated, tone scared and hesitant.
Hera merely blinked. "Your name is 'you are part of the Sisterhood'? Now that's very unfortunate. Do you perhaps have a nickname that I can use instead?"
The boy flushed. "Neville," he mumbled and had Hera not have had a keen sense of hearing, she would have been unable to hear it.
Hera beamed. "Well, hello there, Neville! Apologies for stopping you and I hope you don't mind me asking, but Sofia and I were wondering why you were adorning such a...unique...expression while walking towards —what I assume to be— that room." she gesticulated with her head to a door a few paces ahead.
Neville's countenance was crestfallen. "Oh, I have potions class in twenty minutes," he answered, visibly grimacing. "I— I come here early so I won't be late."
Hera frowned. As someone who had grown up in Ancient Greece, her life had revolved around potions. She had many fond memories of learning the subject, discovering new quirks on it by herself and most recently, teaching it to her littlest sister. "I take it that you don't like potions?" she asked lightly.
Neville hesitated once again, swivelling his head around as if scared that someone would jump out before he responded in a low tone. "It's— It's not about whether I like it or not, I guess." he inhaled a breath, exhaling it as he continued to speak. "Professor Snape scares me. I don't think he likes me very much."
