What had started out as a quintessential defeat – resignation in the face of the overwhelming chasm between her and the world that had shown up on her doorstep, overwhelming fear at exposing that difference through the crime of asking questions - had somehow, through the power of Lavender and Parvati wielding hairbrushes and compliments, been turned into a victory. A retroactively claimed act of defiance. Look at me. I’m not like you. But I am so, so, fucking beautiful.