Chapter 2: Eye for an Eye

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Every evening, Margaret Ravens endured a family meal. When there weren't any exclusive galas, parties, fundraisers or gatherings, she was to eat with her parents. Her mother critiqued her posture and her etiquette at every turn as if her tutors didn't do that enough during the day. By far the worst was her piano teacher. She was an utterly terrifying woman. She would perch just on the edge of a stool with her wand at the ready to cast a stinging hex at Margaret's knuckles every time she hit a wrong note. Margaret wasn't quite sure why she needed to learn piano when her parents could just as easily charm a musical instrument to play itself. Whenever she asked, her mother said it was good discipline and her father said he enjoyed hearing her play.

Her next least favourite lesson was Magical and Familial History. She could never stop counting down the seconds on the large grandfather clock that sat in the corner of her tutoring room. He was the dullest tutor of them all. It was as though he wasn't even trying to make learning anything about history fun.

One day, she asked about why Muggle-born witches and wizards have always been so bad, and he grew flustered. It was the most emotion she had seen out of the spindly wizard who looked like he had lived through everything she was learning about. Maybe not everything, but a fair amount, citing his thin grey hair and hunched figure. His eyes had darted about the room as though looking for eyes and ears on the walls, which wouldn't be out of the question, before giving a dull and generic answer.

"That's just the way it is." Quite a bore. It must have been an adult question, but at the time, Margaret didn't push to hear answers about adult questions and disadvantages. Not like she did today. Now that she was a young lady, she felt entitled to hear the real answers to the adult questions.

"Margaret, you're slouching, darling," her mother's voice intruded her reminiscing on her least favourite lessons. Margaret instantly pulled back her shoulders. This position was not good for digging into food. Margaret suspected that it was made so one would be forced to eat slower. Most likely intended to torture young ladies like Margaret who were hungry. She was not able to lower her chin or eat like a wild kneazle.

Her mother nodded approvingly, not knowing what was going through Margaret's mind. She wanted nothing more than to jump on the table and scoop all the food in her hands to shove it down her throat. But that was certainly in the category of bad and loud and un-polite. Or, rather, impolite. Saying impolite was, ironically, the more polite way of saying someone was un-polite. Quite ironic, indeed. That was one useful thing that Margaret learned from her tutors.

Ironic was now her favourite word.

She had almost forgotten about her absolute least favourite lesson that always made piano lessons feel like a blessing. It made her grip her fork tighter and angrily stab at her meat, causing her parents to look at her for being loud, their eyebrows raised in question.

Margaret gritted her teeth in a smile, cutting the stake with her knife politely.

Her least favourite lesson, which unfortunately occurred every day was The Keeping of a Magical Home. Since she was to marry a pure-blood wizard upon completion of her studies at Hogwarts, she would earn the prestigious title of 'Lady'. She would oversee all the important galas, events, fundraisers and gatherings. She would also oversee the house-elves and maintenance of the gardens and interior. And, most importantly, she was to care for her future children.

It made her want to wretch.

"A good home is only as good as the lady who runs it," her tutor quipped. While this tutor wasn't nearly as physically terrifying as her piano tutor, she was terrifying in her own way. She always had a close-lipped smile that appeared to make the woman's cheeks hurt, but she never dropped the strange smile once and she had her slowly greying hair pulled back to the point of stretching the skin of her face back into her scalp.

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