I always thought I had to have some degree of magic inside of me, considering how much I loved playing around my room, by myself, pretending to move things just with a thought. Until one day I moved the stuffed piglet I had laying in the bed. First, it jumped up, then it jumped off the bed, and last it started talking to me with the funniest of voices. I kept that a secret, even from my sister, because I was afraid they might think I was crazy. I was an odd child, always too quiet, everybody kept saying. Until my Hogwarts letter's arrival, and my parents skepticism was put down when I showed them all the things I've learned how to do. But my father wasn't very fond of magical things, and said that I couldn't go, or that I would only go after I've finished my muggle education, because "if one day, magic fails you, you will be able to fall back on a respectful degree." Buggers. I'm independent, now, married to a Slytherin and all, so I decided to get back on all the things I've missed. I'm also studying psychology in a muggle university, so I might be a little slow, and maybe only take a few classes at a time, but that's alright. I'm a patient person.
So, basically, weird muggle born girl, married, mother of Pandora, a wild cat, scared of the ocean, and sharks in pools.
My Ilvermorny house is Thunderbird.
My patronus is a Goshawk.
My wand is Black Walnut wood with a Dragon heartstring core, 12 1/2 inches and Unyielding flexibility.