In the midst of puberty and an influx of hormones, Ellie hated a lot more about herself than her new role as prefect. In the final hours before leaving Grimmauld Place, Ellie found herself staring into the Black family relic of a mirror which hung above her dresser. She wasn’t blonde like her mother or particularly fit like Rose and she didn’t have the personality which Molly had to naturally draw people in. She’d inherited more Dursley traits than she cared to admit. Awkwardly tall and gangly, a bit curvier than most other girls, and a mess of dull brown hair. Ellie had an attitude most other witches turned their noses up at, but she got along with the boys far better anyway. Those who didn’t know better, often mistook her for James’ sister. 